As far as she remembered, Renly Baratheon was the uncle to the man who had taken her from Pentos. She vaguely remembered a man in his twenties, with jet black hair and blue eyes, like the one who saved her, but more handsome, always smiling and laughing, generous to others, although he was often out of her way, by either design or chance, she didn't know. No more than she knew him, but he must have been quite a man, for the people of the city mourned for him, despite him being a traitor.
"Joffrey will be pleased," Sansa told her one day. "The first time I met him, Renly laughed at Joffrey." Joffrey didn't like being laughed at, but he was no doubt angry that he couldn't do the deed himself.
He was a man who didn't fear then, no one laughed at Joffrey now. Not unless they wanted their heads cut off, or worse. "Neither knight or knave feared to laugh under King Robert," one of their serving maids had told them when they brought the food, "now to laugh can mean death or torture unless his grace wishes it."
But they were safe in their tower. Lord Loren's guards were loyal to him and there were always four on the door and more stationed throughout the tower, and they protected a precious haven from the king, fools danced on tables for their pleasures, ladies, be they servant or noblewoman enjoying the Hand's protection or hospitality, gossiped and giggled, worried for their sons or husbands or the state of their lands in the war.
Despite this being the Tower of the Hand, the Hand seemed rarely present, awake before the others and back in bed after them, once a week he was able to take dinner with one guest or other, the two of them had yet to experience that, there were far more important guests for the Hand to flatter and soothe than them.
There was a knock on the door to their shared chambers then. "Lady Sansa, lady Daenerys, are you presentable?"
"We are," Sansa replied.
The door opened and a red cloaked guard entered. "Lady Sansa, my lord requires your presence, please come with me, lady Daenerys, you are to remain here."
Sansa looked at her confused, unaware of why Loren needed to see Sansa, but there was nothing to be done. She nodded that she would be okay, they had had to come to understand such gestures in Joffrey's court where words were weapons to beat you with, and Sansa left with the guard, the door clicking shut behind her.
She sighed and sat back down on the bed. She had hoped that there would be those that remembered her family when she arrived at King's Landing, but if they did they only remembered the Mad King, not the generations of greatness that had come before her father. Well, that wasn't entirely true, a few did, Ser Aron was one, and she had seen the eyes of others who looked at her, looking with pity and respect rather than contempt and scorn. But they were a minority, and only Ser Aron had approached her to speak, but she hadn't seen him since he took her down to the cellars to see the skulls of the dragons of old.
As she was contemplating this, there was a soft knock at the door. "Who is it?" She asked.
"Septon Morigold, my lady," came a deep voice thrumming with heavy undertones. "May I enter?"
Dany opened the door cautiously, not knowing of any Septon Morigold. She knew that Lord Loren had a Septa in his service, but not this man. Still, if he'd gotten past the guards, he must be a known figure. When the wooden door was pulled back, she saw a thick man with a completely shaved head, a large paunch stretching his folds of white and silver cloth. Around his neck was a length of leather with a gleaming crystal set into a gold base swinging from the end. "My lady," he bowed low and respectfully.
"Y-yes?"
He smiled at her warmly. "Long have I wished to talk with you, and now I have my chance." Dany didn't like his tone at once, she'd heard it on those who leered at her and those who saw her as a prize. "May I please enter?"
"What do you want?" She asked, sternly, not budging, though with his weight he could almost certainly force his way past her if he chose to.
"Only to talk, my lady, but I fear my legs are not sufficient to support this" he slapped his belly, "for too long, please, may I enter?"
Cautiously she stepped aside and allowed the septon to waddle past her. Without invitation he took the wooden chair at the vanity as his and set himself down upon it. He sighed with relief and stretched out his legs. "I thank you, my lady," he said, happy to be off his feet.
"You wanted to talk to me, what about?"
Septon Morigold leant forwards, peering at her with a keen eye that made her even more wary. "Many things, lady Daenerys, the future is that which interests me, yours most of all."
"My future?" Were the guards outside her door? Could she call them in time? She should never trust people who spoke of the future, her brother had, always and constantly, a future with him on the Iron Throne and everything right with the world. Now he was dead in a harbour and she was a prisoner here in the Red Keep. "What about it? My future is here until the King says otherwise. I know that."
"And so it is," the septon replied, nodding his agreement. "But that may not be the case forever."
She stepped back, glancing around for something, anything that could be used as a weapon. "Who are you?" She whispered.
He continued as though she hadn't said a thing. "There is soon to be a battle at the capital, you know this, as well as I, and there are many who remember a day before good King Robert ended the Targaryen dynasty, before the lions of Casterly Rock brought the city low with steel and fire. Many who would help you, and you are not the only dragon left in the world."
The backs of her legs collided with a vanity, knocking over something on it. "The day of the battle may be the day of your salvation. Keep a good head about you, tell no-one of this, and others will find it in their hearts to help you. Some already have. Remember this, we shall speak again." He got to his feet with a vigour that shocked her considering his size and his walk from earlier. "Seven blessings upon you, lady Daenerys." He waddled over to the door and without waiting for her approval, left her alone.
She was frozen for some time, so when a guard poked his head through the door, she was still pressed up against the vanity. "My lady? Is something wrong your door was open."
She coughed and shook her head. "No, I'm fine thank you, my apologies."
He nodded. "It's no concern, shall I shut the door for you?"
"Yes, thank you – wait!" She asked suddenly and the guard paused, his hand stretching out for the brass door handle. "Who was that man who I saw earlier?"
"Man?"
She nodded. "Yes, fat man, dressed in silk, had a sort of crystal on his necklace." Using the name might be a bad idea, she didn't know enough yet, and if he did mean to help...
"Crystal necklace and fat... sounds like a septon to me, I'm afraid I don't know any septons around here, I'm from Lannisport."
"I see," she replied. "Thank you ser."
He nodded and closed the door with a click.
She sat back down on the bed, wondering what to make of the visit by the strange Septon. He seemed to want to help her, but did he? She'd known many people who were eager to "help" her and her brother, but in truth they just wanted the last Targaryens in their custody for reasons of pride or future opportunity, but had cast them aside when they realised that her brother's dreams were impossible or that they would receive no return on their investment. She could offer no more than he could, and surely a Septon would barely be able to take her anywhere safe. She had seen one or two septs in Essos and they were barely shrines, built for the visiting sailors from the Seven Kingdoms.
But it was the comment about the dragons that got to her. What did he mean by that? Not every dragon was dead? He had to mean Targaryen by dragon, surely, her brother had called himself a dragon plenty of times and she'd heard Lannisters call themselves lions. But the Targaryens were all dead bar her. Her family had been the last branch, with Her brothers dead, and Rhaegar's children as well, there was nothing and no one left, only her. Was he a spy perhaps? trying to get her trust so that she would try and escape only to fall into the arms of her laughing captors who considered it sport. The Hand of the King and his dwarf brother seemed kind enough that they wouldn't indulge in such a thing, but Joffrey...
That was probably it. Just Joffrey being Joffrey.
She wouldn't fall prey to this trap, she told herself, but a small flicker of hope remained inside her that perhaps this was something. Either way she would not do anything, not yet, except that which she had been doing since she had been brought to King's Landing.
Watching, waiting and trying to survive.
A/N: A short one I know, but I'm fine tuning the next chapter as we speak and it should be up within the next couple of hours.
Also, just to clarify Lyonel and Shireen - not twins
Naruto9tail - thanks for the advice, I'll check it out
