Red Waste
Daenerys can feel every step of her silver make in the red sand. Every lurch and heave, every dry pants and neighs, even its tiredness and thirst. Like a Dothrakii, she knows her horse well, yet none of it gives her hope.
The air is drier than bones in the Red Waste, scorching sun and windless days with no signs of life. The only thing that grows here are bones and sand, though the occasional devilgrass gives her khalasar some reprieve. And with many dying each day, the Red Waste is not short of bones and flesh to feast upon.
And she watched them. She watched her people die one by one to starvation, to heat, to diseases, and to hopelessness. Yesterday, she followed a freed man at the back of her khalasar, slowly being left behind by the rest. She tried her best to save him, but even with the help of the Prince's sorceries it was of no use. When the man collapsed into the sand, Rakharo spared him from anymore suffering with his arakh. And his body was left there to be eaten by the dust.
Is it not her duty to see her people fed and protected? To understand their plight and suffering, their wants and needs, and to lead them to a brighter tomorrow? But here she is in the Red Waste.
There is nothing here but death, Daenerys thinks, pulling close the hrakkar pelt to cover her sunburnt skin. Was it a mistake? Is this simply a doomed trek, sending more of my khalasar into the herd in the sky?
This dreaded red expanse... It seems so long now when she counselled with her Queensguard and the Prince for their next movements. She vehemently rejected the idea of travelling into the Red Waste, citing it then as "suicidal." She'd been warned before by her sun-and-stars, Drogo, of the futility marching into the badlands. He told her then, underneath a sea of stars, that there's no treasures to be gained there for the land itself is foul.
But there was no other choice. What pushed her over the edge was the Prince and her knight agreeing on this grim trek. And with the help of the Prince, she managed to convince her khalasar to take on this arduous journey.
For they are following the shierak qiya, her husband's star riding through the great herd in the sky. Daenerys told them all, but mostly to herself, that her late husband Drogo shall lead them to their salvation. Yet she wonders. She wonders, she wonders, she wonders. Perhaps her husband is leading her into his arms, to join him and his great herd in the sky.
Or maybe the sun is starting to get into her mind.
She drinks from her waterskin, sparingly placing some on her hand and rubbing it on her scalp, trying to cool herself. But the water soon turns to steam, and she's left as dry as before.
She looks ahead beneath the blazing sun, seeing her Queensguard leading the way. Rakharo, Aggo, and Jhogo: experienced horse riders, yet she fears this desert shall make a fool out of them all. Ser Jorah looks half melted, sometimes clutching at his wounded hip and once nearly falling off his horse. They can't rest in the day for there is no shade for them to hide under. The Prince has been giving him medications, but sometimes Daenerys thinks if it's better to give them to the others in her khalasar...
"Prince Miko," she calls out.
The purple-caped figure slows her horse and turns to look at Daenerys, allowing a smile to cross her face. Yet, Daenerys sees none of the shine from when she first awoke. The dragon Futo climbs up to her shoulder, the rest sheltering under a makeshift birdhouse situated at the Prince's stallion. "What is it, your grace?"
"Please, if you can, survey the lands ahead of us again. It need not be anything large, even a small patch of devilgrass will do."
"Of course, Queen Daenerys."
This forsaken place is even threatening to break her, a sorcerer with no need for food nor drink. But even then she can still smile.
The Prince disembarks from her horse before surrounding herself with golden strings of light. Then, in a puff of dust, she takes flight with the dragon on her shoulder.
Even now Daenerys can hear praises from her khalasar, yet they're much weaker than that night before this doomed march. The Prince created golden orbs of light and took to the sky then, inspiring them all to follow Daenerys and her burning star. With the dragons spitting fires and the praises and songs all around them, the Prince looked like a god.
And that gives her hope, nearly as much as having those dragons. A sorcerer in my service... Not that traitorous maegi who can't even wake Drogo, but one who could wake me. But I wonder... How much of the debts do I still owe her? She worries for the fear of debts hang over her heads. Her brother Viserys had debts and look where it led him: a crown of gold on his head.
As she ponders what the sorcerer may want, she sees the shadow of a horse approach her. It's her handmaid Doreah, her fair hair glowing brightly in the sun. She looks much better now, the Prince having healed her fevers, though the Red Waste is kind to none of them. "Khaleesi, you must rest! The sun does no good for your health."
She refuses. "I'm khaleesi, Queen of my people. I'll stay atop of my silver till the sun sets beneath the sands."
"But you're a growing girl still," Doreah retorts before giving her a piece of dried horse meat and a nearly empty waterskin. "Take it, khaleesi. Good health is important when leading."
Though she refuses again, Doreah insists and places it into Daenerys' vest pockets. Her handmaid won't take no for an answer. Reluctantly, she eats the meat and drinks the water, suspecting it's been medicated by its sour and sweet taste.
"Better, khaleesi?"
"Better, Doreah. Thank you." Yet that small taste of morsel did not quench her hunger. It heightens them. Now her stomach growls, begging for more, but she knows she can't eat all the supplies herself. They're for her khalasar. Passing a few strands of devilgrass, she wonders if they would taste any good.
But before she could find out for herself, she sees the Prince speeding back onto her horse and galloping up to Ser Jorah. In that person's hand she sees... A branch? With leaves and fruits? Daenerys sees her giving her knight something before the bloodriders all race into the distance. Something's happening. Have our prayers been answered? Drogo?
"Your grace!" the Prince shouts, trotting up to Doreah and Daenerys. The golden shine is back in her eyes now as she shoves the branches of peaches to-
"Peaches!?"
"Yes your grace," the Prince smiles, Futo screeching in happiness along with her. "There's a city just beyond those red hills bearing fruits and freshwater. Grapes, peaches, and more!" She hands Daenerys a peach and another to Doreah. "Eat up. Peaches are the heaven's fruit and I'll not let your healing go to waste."
She takes a bite out of the peach, the fruity and sweet taste quickly filling her mouth and throat. As if the nectar of the gods was dropped right onto her tongue, she finishes it all in three bites, licking her fingers clean. Doreah does the same, not hiding her pleasure. "Fruiting trees and grapes... Were these gifts from their men?"
"From dead men, yes," she laughs. "City's all but dead and full of bones; I doubt you could even find fairies in there. Yet, it's our only chance to recuperate and rest in this wasteland."
"The Prince's right, your grace," Ser Jorah adds, riding up to her whilst chewing on his own peach. "Grass and water shall feed our men and horses. If we're to ever continue our trek again, we must resupply."
"Alright, Ser Jorah. Prince Miko, kindly give the rest of the fruits to Doreah. And Doreah, give them to Irri, Jhiqui, and anybody else that needs them. Us three shall ride ahead and see the city for ourselves."
With that, she commands her silver from a trot to a run, following the dust path of her bloodriders. She can hear the cheering of her people, no doubt from Doreah informing them of their salvation.
It takes a while for them to cross the waste and over the hills before setting eyes on the city. Ruined and dead, just like how the Prince described it. The broken towers and buildings itself look like bones, yet she sees splotches of green in between houses and walls. She sees Jhogo inspecting the area, occasionally directing the others to a direction. Their salvation. "Prince Miko, I give you my deepest gratitude in finding this city."
"Thank you, Queen Daenerys," she bows her head, the three dragons now out and about on he Prince. "Ser Jorah, does this city have a name?"
"It's not on any maps I've seen, no," he disembarks from his horse. "A city of bones yet soon to be filled with llife. Your grace, what shall the name of this city be?"
"It may be a city of life soon, but it's currently a city of bones. Vaes Tolorro."
"Vaes Tolorro it is then. Let us find some shade and have a good rest for once."
As the camps are set up and people are gathering water from wells, her khalasar slowly trickles in. Her bloodriders are riding back out into the Red Waste, making sure that no one is left behind so near to salvation. Ser Jorah directs and guards the gate while her handmaids are tending to the children and elderly. The Prince had disappeared somewhere between the ruins and Daenerys is left all alone to explore the city.
Like the Prince had said, the ground is littered with bones and pottery, left to dry and bake in the sun. How long have they been here? she wonders, but is soon interrupted by a cool breeze coming from between the alleys. Even here the wind is alive.
She pushes open the burnt door of the largest manse in the city. Looking up, she can see the blue sky from the caved-in ceiling of marble and sandstone. Ceramic tiling line the floor with images of queer things, but none of it disturbs Daenerys. She has a sorcerer and dragons.
Heading deeper into the building, she follows the sound of wind before coming into a secluded garden, a large peach tree growing at its centre. She can see a broken branch, most likely the handiwork of the Prince. Feeling hungry, she tries to jump up and reach the peaches but finds herself too short by a lot. So instead, she kicks the tree and a scorpion falls onto her shoulder.
But before she could panic, a hand picks up the scorpion by the tail and flicks it out of the garden. "Good grief," the Prince sighs behind her. "At least try to stay alive, Queen Daenerys. It was a LOT of effort to heal you."
"...You were following me?"
"And rightly so," the Prince smiles before sitting down on a dried-up fountain. "Heard a little whisper of desire to explore and tailed you just out of your vision. It's not wise to walk alone through a city, especially an unknown one."
"I thought you said everything's dead."
"Every man is dead. Said nothing of the scorpions." Tojiko appears shyly from behind the Prince's head before dashing out of the cape and climbing up the peach tree. They hear a few screeches and cooing here and there. "Scorpions hold good nutrition too, so it's not a bad food for the dragons," she chuckles.
Daenerys sighs before sitting next to the Prince, leaning and relaxing in the shade. The Prince's scent wafts over in the soft breeze, like a mixture of spices and steel. The two swing their legs, feeling finally able to relax. "You said you followed me from a whisper."
"Yup."
"Of desire?"
"Correct."
"What do you speak of, really? Some sort of sorcery?"
"In a way, yes." The Prince takes off that purple headwear of hers, uncovering her ears. "Desires are just that: desires. What you want, what you feel like you need, your wishes, your yearns... I can hear them. Was born with that skill, like listening in behind closed doors as my father would say."
The statement sounds... Confusing to Dany. "So you can read the mind?"
"Sort of," she sighs, her smile faltering. "Once I could talk and revealed this skill to my father, he threw me into a world of politics and hidden desires. I was barely out of my swaddle-clothes then," she laughs, but Daenerys notes it's a dry one. "Of course, listening all the time is a pain for I have sensitive ears; that's why I wear these."
"The purple headwear?"
"Noise-cancelling earmuffs, improved by kappa technology. Try it out."
Dany takes the purple earmuffs. As soon as it is over her ears, all the sound in the world dies. No wind, no cracks, no nothing. She sees the Prince speaking but is amazed when she can't hear any of it. "YOU CAN HEAR THROUGH-"
The Prince winces in pain before taking the earmuffs off of Dany and putting it back on, sighing in relief. "Yes, I can hear through these. But for the love of the gods, please don't shout when I have these off: sensitive ears, remember?"
"Oops, sorry."
"It's alright..." he Prince replies. Dany sometimes wonder if that hairstyle of hers is supposed to signify ears, or she's simply fine looking like that. Not that it doesn't look good on her, Daenerys thinks.
The two watch the dragon Tojiko crawl about in the tree, its mouth full of scorpions. Though Dany somewhat worry for their stings, it's clear that the dragon's scales are too tough for them to penetrate. They rest there for a while before Dany asks her next question. "You said that you can hear desires, right? Can you hear mine?"
"Will you allow me to?"
"You're already listening without me knowing, so might as well."
The Prince takes off her earmuffs before closing her eyes. This time, Daenerys keeps her mouth shut until it's all over. She watches the Prince's beautiful face, dappled in the sunlight. At the beginning it's all soft smiles, yet it slowly turns into a frown before turning to... Sadness? What is she hearing?
The Prince puts the earmuffs back on before opening her eyes and begins speaking. "You're... Daenerys Targaryen, last of the Targaryens and a little girl estranged from her home of Westeros. You have a lot of strong wishes and desires: the prosperity for her khalasar, the health of your people, and the freedom of those from slavery."
"That's easy enough to discern without mind reading," Dany laughs, but the Prince does not. "Any deeper ones? You said you have good ears."
The Prince sighs before speaking again. "You have love for your people, but you yearn for affection as well. You yearn for the warmth of your husband, Drogo, and your child, Rhaego. Yet both..." The Prince shakes her head. "I'm sorry, your grace. I shouldn't continue."
"No it's... It's fine, Prince Miko," Daenerys lies. She has been yearning for that affection her sun-and-stars always gave her. Yet every time she tries to imagine his embrace, all she can remember is the Pyre in the Dothrakii Sea. The burning star in the sky gives her no warmth in the night. She's been hiding it away since, hoping that it'll make her a stronger Queen, a better khaleesi. Yet... "Continue it, please."
"But-"
"Finish it," she hisses. What else has this sorcerer heard in her?
The Prince reluctantly complies with her demand. "A great desire... Is for you to reclaim the Iron Throne. The one where the Usurper had thrown your family and put them all to the sword. You wish to rule it, as Queen of Westeros and khaleesi of your people, to reclaim for what once was yours. To put a dragon back on the throne."
That part has been known to all who had witnessed her. Yet, deep in her heart, she knows. Daenerys knows that that's not all there is and the Prince is laying it all bare before her. She can ask her to stop now, to keep a secret safe and... What? What then? Deny it forevermore? Live on a lie?
"However," the Prince speaks, each word feeling like needles in Daenerys' heart, "a part of you desires none of that. What you want... Is to go back home. To... Fruit trees, to grass between your toes, to... Your brothers. A peaceful life, but none of them..."
Dany does not hear the Prince stop speaking as tears trail down from her face. She tries to stifle her cries but couldn't, soon finding herself leaning against the Prince and covered by her cape. The Prince pulls the crying girl closer, a warmth enveloping them both. The dragon chirps, the wind blows, and she rests there until the sun starts to set.
Dany feels her tears run dry, her breath still hitching. "I'm..." she whispers. "I'm Daenerys Targaryen, Daenerys Stormborn, last of my house, the last... But I'll be there." Her hand forms to fist, clutching at the Prince's cape. "For my brothers and husband and child... Fire and blood are my family's words. That... That I promise."
"Is that what you want?" the Prince speaks softly. "Is that what you truly desire?"
"Yes."
"Then I shall help you," the Prince says as she lifts Dany's hand. In the setting sun, her face looks bright and charming, full of love. "It does not befit a Crown Prince to see a girl cry before her and do nothing. And so," she kisses Dany's hand, "I, Prince Toyosatomimi no Miko, offer you my services, Queen Daenerys Targaryen. To see you be seated on a throne shall be my goal for as long as I remain here. You have my word."
Beneath a darkening sky and the burning star, Daenerys now wields a Sorcerer Prince, and the Sorcerer Prince now wields her heart as well.
Vaes Tolorro
Vaes Tolorro is a paradise in the middle of the Red Waste. Here, Daenerys' khalasar can rest and regain their strength after that harrowing journey through the badlands.
In this City of Bones, she can hear the laughter of children where there were none before. The bones of buildings and monuments provides shade, while the water and fruits provide them with life. The dragons grow large and happy in the Prince's care; they're now as large as small dogs, leaping from pillar to pillar, roasting and eating horse meat and scorpions. Daenerys even accepts the naming choice for them as the Prince proves herself capable of caring for dragons.
But this paradise will not last forever.
There's only so much fruit and vines to go around. And while the water is near everlasting, soon they will run out of food. And if that happens, then they will starve again.
Daenerys can't let that happen.
And so she sets out three plans into motion. The first is for Ser Jorah to begin storing fruits and other food materials for their inevitable journey. As she often saw him speak with Doreah, she assigns her to that duty as well. The second is sending her bloodriders into the South-West, South, and South-East, looking for anywhere or anything that may be of use. As they're with fresh supplies, it should last them for some time. The third, if all else fails, is to utilise the Prince's sorcery to grow fruits and trees. Daenerys once saw her making flowers bloom before giving it to a child, so it's possible that she may be able to force the trees to fruit.
And now, she waits. The supplies are still being packed, with the older ones being redistributed for her khalasar to eat. When she asked the Prince about making fruits through the trees, she gave her an odd look before saying "it's possible," or as Daenerys understands it: "I have yet to try it, so let's see what happens."
And lastly, her bloodriders. It has been a week now since their departure and they've yet to return.
In that time, she has taken residence in the broken manse with her handmaids, using the space as a makeshift home and court. Underneath the starry skies, she worries what would happen if they were to die out there. They're her bloodriders, blood of her blood, leaders of her kos. Would the other riders fight amongst themselves? Fight against her? Will those freed people be sold into slavery, like with the other kos that fled after Drogo's death?
"It is best not to worry, your grace," Ser Jorah reassures her, sitting beside the campfire and eating his share of the meal. "I've been with the Dothraki for quite some time, and I know Drogo's kos well. Those three are able to ride to the ends of the known world if given the order, so I'm sure they are safe and sound."
"Personally," the Prince speaks, drinking something fruity from a bowl, "I should have been the one to traverse the place. No need to eat or drink, and I'm sure your grace could take care of the dragons as well." The Prince gives a piece of roasted horse meat to Futo, the dragon chomping away at it.
"While you're more than capable, your sorcery is much more useful here in Vaes Tolorro than in the middle of the Red Waste, Prince Miko," Daenerys answers. At least she's glad that these two advisors are still here as she would not know what to do if any of them were to die.
As Daenerys continues to eat her meal of roasted meat and figs, she sees Jorah shooting a glance at someone. She turns her head and quickly sees Doreah averting her eyes from them, going back to Irri and Jhiqui. Oh my, Dany smiles, seems that my knight has taken interest in my handmaid. Even my old knight still has a fairy-tale love in him. But maybe I shouldn't press on, no need to cause needless conflict.
Dany quickly glances at the Prince, her hair shimmering in the light of the fire. Her sharp eyes and gentle smile are... Attractive? Perhaps here, yes, but she's a woman, not a man. Dany has to constantly remind herself of that, that this feeling she gets from her are nothing more than admiration.
...
Of course, this does not stop her from imagining what this Crown Prince looks like as an actual Prince. Not as tall as her knight in her mind, but maybe a hand taller than the Prince's current height. Lithe yet muscular, and maybe with flowing blond locks, braided or not. The dragons perched on the shoulders complete the image of this male Prince. She can't imagine how the male Prince would look with that strange hair style-
"My, my, like to stare much?" the Prince smiles at her.
Realising her mistake, Dany has to come up with an excuse. "Ah, no no, I wasn't- I was just wondering what you're drinking."
"Oh this?" The Prince lifts up her bowl. "It's peach liquor."
"Liquor?" Jorah asks, looking perplexed. "The only brandy we have left are for wounds."
"I made this myself with the peaches from the garden," she corrects him, sipping from the bowl. "Refined and purified, right up to my tastes."
"Heh, didn't think you're one to get drunk, Prince. Especially for someone claiming to not needing to drink."
"Even once in a while I like to get drunk, especially in celebrating our survival of that ordeal. I didn't become a Taoist Hermit just to stay sour and stiff like you."
"Alright, enough bickering," Daenerys interrupts them. I guess their kindness to each other only lasts as long as the Red Waste. "May I have a taste, Prince Miko?"
"No," the answer is immediate. "You're far too young, especially with something this strong."
"Strong? I bet I've tasted stronger wines at Bear Island than whatever water you concocted," Ser Jorah scoffs.
"Ho ho, is that a challenge? Here, Ser Jorah," she fills an empty cup with the liquor, "drink up if you dare."
"Oh, I dare. Us bears have strong stomachs unlike someone wiry like you."
Might as well let him, Dany thinks, tired of their argument. Maybe drinking will be their bond, though I'd rather not have drunk advisors at my court.
The knight takes the cup, which looks quite small in his hairy hand, and chugs it in one go. But as soon as he gulps, his eyes turn wide and he spits and hacks the liquid back out and onto the fire, making a multi-coloured blaze to light up the broken manse. Dany and the others lean away from the flame while the Prince laughs heartily, the dragons on her lap responding with their own flames.
"By the Old- What!? This is wound brandy!"
"You dare insult my liquor!?" the Prince exclaims looking quite offended by the knight's remarks. "Did you not taste the sweetness of the peaches? You must have an unrefined palate."
"The Bear Knight is now a hairy dragon, spitting fire," Doreah laughs along.
"Gah! Gods, I swallowed some of it! Who the hell would drink this!?"
"Myself, as you can see. My wives, my acquaintances, guests to drinking parties... It's not even a particularly strong drink, this one. The peaches must be of low quality. No, you know what's a strong drink? Demon killer. By the heavens, drink a cup of that stuff and you'd be drunk for a week!" Her eyes and expression looks drunk, and Dany slightly fears what a drunk sorcerer may be capable of.
"Or dead..." Irri adds. "Too much liquor kills a man, it is known."
"Well the drinking parties where I'm from lasts a full three days, so no use in telling them that," the Prince chuckles as she drinks again.
"They have a death wish if they're drinking that," Ser Jorah groans, standing up and taking the empty bowls and cup with him. "I think I've had enough of liquors and headaches for today. Will it be fine if I leave for my quarters, your grace?"
"No need to worry, my knight. I have the Prince here, after all."
"...Right. Goodnight, your grace. Doreah. Irri. Jhiqui." With a bow, the knight exits the broken manse.
With him gone, the Prince looks much more relaxed and the air feels soft. It's quiet now, the two not bickering anymore. Daenerys sighs, looking up to the great herd in the sky. It's a beautiful sight to see, sleeping underneath the stars. But due to the angle, she's unable to see her husband's burning star, just behind the broken roof.
Giving a piece of her own meal to the sleepy Tojiko, she hears some chatter coming from her handmaids. Looking over to them, she sees Doreah teasing the scared Irri and Jhiqui, laughing all the while. "What's the matter?" Daenerys asks.
"Jhiqui is scared of this city, it is known," says Irri.
"It is known that Irri is scared to wander alone to the latrine, even when she needs to," says Jhiqui.
"They think ghosts are wandering this city and are now too scared to go to the latrine by themselves," Doreah giggles at the two's scared expressions. "I can confidently say that any alleyway in Lys are much more treacherous than any old bones you find here. Ghost are like smoke and whispers, not men who are solid."
"While that is true," the Prince interjects, "ghost can be more troublesome than that. They can pass through walls, they can touch you, they can set fire to things, and vengeful ones can hunt and kill you as well."
The two Dothrakii handmaids whimper and huddle closer together. Doreah scoffs at the Prince's claims. "And how would you know that?"
"I know many ghosts! For example, my wife is one," the Prince smiles.
"Oh... I'm sorry to hear that, Prince Miko," Doreah bows her head. "I never meant to insult your late love."
"Late? Ah, you misunderstand. She's dead, yes, but now she's my wife as a ghost!"
...
"Pardon?"
"An accident," she says with a mouthful of liquor. "Wanted to do something, someone sabotaged it, and now my wife is stuck as a ghost. A beautiful ghost, mind you, not some mindless ghouls or spirits."
"...I think you have too much to drink," Daenerys says, snatching away the bowl from the Prince's hand against her protests. "You're just rambling about now, better get some sleep."
"I'm not rambling," she slurs with a thick smell of liquor. "My wife Tojiko is a ghost! Incorporeal body, but she'll let me touch her when we're intimate."
"And you're a woman," Daenerys sighs. "You wouldn't have a wife."
"I'm not so sure of that, your grace," Doreah says, smiling at the two. "In Lys, sometimes a courtesan or female proprietor may take a few female lovers with her. Besides, it's not that rare for a woman to arrive at a pillow house and demand whores to pleasure her, or did my grace forget of our night together?"
Daenerys blushes slightly. Doreah is right. And was there not a Targaryen princess who loved her companion more than her own husband, Rhaena Targaryen? It's not so odd then that this woman Prince may have woman lovers.
"Of course," Doreah continues, "marriage is another matter entirely. For all of the faith present on Lys, I've never heard of one marrying two women. Polygamy, sure, but there must be a man in the middle. Or are you of a faith I've not heard of?"
"Probably," the Prince smirks. "But like you said, the faith I was married in also did not believe in marrying women."
This confuses all those who hear it. "Then... Is she a wife in your eye but not of the gods?"
"She is my wife in my eye and the eyes of the law and heavens," she proclaims. "You see, I didn't always look this bright and gorgeous. When I got married with Tojiko, I looked more like Jhogo except with a beard, more fat, and far more self-loathing."
"Nonsense," Dany says, quite shocked at what Prince Miko is saying. "I've seen you bathe near the well and you had no cock on you, and neither are you a eunuch."
"You watched me bathe?"
"You watched her bathe?"
"Off-topic," Dany waves her hand. "You're a woman, not a man."
"Precisely!" the Prince snaps her fingers, the drunken tone of her voice slipping away. "The monks and priests thought I was a man, Tojiko thought I was a man, and at the time even I thought I was a man! That was the case until I had my own revelation with the help of a... Um, teacher. Say, Doreah, have you ever wished to have the body of a man?"
"Never."
"Well, I wished for the body of a woman. And I achieved it! I mean, look at me!" The Prince spreads her arms wide, displaying her clothed and jewelry-laden body for all to see. "With the hermetic and alchemical arts, I created a new body, far more refined and beautiful than the old. More functional, more fitting, more immortal. And now I look just like my soul: golden, divine, and pristine. No more beards, no more food, no more cocks, and no more loathing!" she proclaims, nearly waking the sleeping dragons on her lap. "The gods hate me for it but I challenge them to take my immortal soul from my immortal body."
All fall silent except for the soft snores of the dragons. This doesn't seem to be a drunken rant anymore, but closer to a madman, a priest, or a god. The gods...
"Careful," Irri peeps from behind Jhiqui. "When you challenge the gods, they shall come, it is known."
"Then let them come," the Prince grins, her voice loud and proud. Gone is the boastful and prideful Crown Prince who once comforted Dany in the garden of peaches. Here, her eyes shine like molten gold and she's draped in a sharp air of cunning; the Sorcerer Prince peeks out from behind the Crown Prince's glamorous curtains. "I've beaten the emissaries of hell and death before, and I will not hesitate in doing it again."
...
"I-I think we're diverting ourselves into a nonsensical topic," Dany stammers out, too scared of what else the Prince might inadvertently show her. All her handmaids nod nervously as well. "So your wife is a ghost. How... How is she?"
"Oh, she's prickly like she usually is," the Prince returns to her drunken aloofness, but at this point Dany suspects it to be a farce. "Brash and bold with her words, but she's the same lovely girl I married oh so long ago. Ah, I do miss her..."
Talking about ghost wives is, frankly, much more relaxing for them to hear. Well, Doreah and Dany; Irri and Jhiqui have retreated to their corners, not wanting to hear anymore talks of blasphemy or spirits. "She sounds lovely," Dany says dryly. "What about the other one, named Futo?"
"Similar manner of marriage: they thought I was a man, I thought I was a man... However, she's not a ghost."
"An improvement," Doreah chuckles.
"Hey, don't speak lowly of Tojiko! She may be a vengeful ghost, but she's a caring and lovely vengeful ghost. Anyway," the Prince continues, taking the bowl of liquor that Daenerys had put aside, "Futo! Such an eccentric one, that girl. Always speaking in an archaic manner, hyper-energetic, quite jumpy and lively-"
"She sounds like a puppy," Dany comments.
"AND more adorable than one, too! By the heavens, I really do miss them..." the Prince wipes a tear from her eye. "Even her pyromaniac tendencies I miss... I hope to see them soon. That's why I named the dragons after them, really."
"And Saki?" Doreah asks.
"Horse," Dany answers.
"A special horse," the Prince yawns, leaning against the marble wall with her eyes drooping. Even her hair is drooping as well. "I rode on her to meet Tojiko and Futo for the first time. Such a good horse... Shame she died so young..."
Dany is a bit soured by this talk of love. From the way the Prince speaks, her loves are all still alive, even if they're not here. Riding her horse to meet her beloved is a nice thought, if not a bit fairy-tale like for Dany. But where does that leave her? Her sun-and-stars is dead, her child is no more, and that maegi's prophecies make the prospect of her future grow even darker. Will I be the last Targaryen? she thinks bitterly. "Prince Miko," she whispers, "may I ask you something?"
...
"Prince?"
...
Dany goes up to the Prince and realises that she's sleeping, snoring softly like the dragons on her lap. Doreah mouths her to be quiet as the two lie the Prince down on some cushions. Dany takes her cape off and drapes it over her and the dragons, but prevent Doreah from removing the headwear; she'll probably be startled if that was removed.
As she realises that it's very late in the night, she bids Doreah goodnight before retreating to her cushions and blankets underneath the stars. The hrakkar's fur comforts her as she slowly drifts off into sleep, with dreams full of stars and a single golden sun.