Vaes Tolorro

Rakharo is the first to return from the Red Waste, his sweat and dust-covered body reflecting the light of the rising sun. "Khaleesi," he disembarks from his horse, kneeling before her with a cloth-covered object in his hands. "The South has nothing but the Waste and the Poison Water. However, during my ride I came across the bones of a dragon, so immense that I rode through its skull. In your name, I have taken this as a gift for you, blood of my blood."

Daenerys steps forward, taking the object in her hands. It's heavier than a sword, nearly longer than her arm. "Thank you, blood of my blood. Rest your weary head and cleanse yourself with the cold water of the well. You deserve it."

"Thank you, khaleesi."

"However," Ser Jorah interjects. "May I speak to you in my tent? I want to hear details of this Poison Water you speak of."

Rakharo glances at Daenerys before answering the knight. "That would be wise, Jorah Mormont. I'll see you after I take my share of fruits and meat."

"Aye. I'll leave now, your grace." With that, the knight and her bloodrider enter the city, disappearing between a myriad of tents and waking people.

The Prince yawns beside her, her golden eyes sporting dark circles below it. Her hair looks even worse, not at all combed to the points she's used to seeing. "Poison waters, huh," she comments, wiping eye-sand from her eyes. "Sounds treacherous."

"Unlike your liquor, not really," Daenerys chuckles, remembering the Prince drunken sleep last night. "Poison Water is what the Dothrakii calls seawater, mostly due to the water being undrinkable for horses. We have no use for it now; we don't have ships, after all."

"Ah… I see," the Prince nods, though Daenerys thinks it might be to keep herself awake so early in the morning. "By the way, what did he gift you?"

"I don't know, so let's see…" As the two walk back into the city, Daenerys begins unwrapping it like a child that has been given presents for their name day. Under the morning sun she can see the blackness of the dragontooth beneath the cloth. She raises it up high, the tooth shining like onyx mixed with charcoal.

The Prince whistles in admiration. "My, my, what an interesting material. What shall you do with it, your grace?"

"A dragontooth… It may be used as a sword or dagger."

"A sword!?" the Prince sounds quite shocked. "What a waste of material! Surely there must be better use for them?"

"Dragonbone can be made into bows as well, like the one I gave to Aggo. They say bows out of dragonbone will fly the farthest out of any known bows."

"Bows… Not bad, but not optimal. Ah," the Prince steps in front of Daenerys, stopping her in her tracks. "May I take that tooth off your hands?"

"What? Why?"

"You see, dragon bones and teeth and scales are all valuable materials in the art of alchemy and in many different types of sorcery. If I may experiment with this foreign dragon bone, I may be able to concoct even more powerful healing potions and spells. So," the Prince smiles, "what do you say?"

Daenerys is unsure of this offer. The tooth was gifted to her by Rakharo, blood of her blood, and she should cherish it in his name. However, the prospect of healing items for her khalasar outweighs any sword or bow that can be created using the tooth. Why take a life when she can save one? "Only if you promise to let none of it go to waste, Prince Miko."

"That I promise, Queen Daenerys." She bows to her before taking the tooth. "Quite heavy, isn't it?" she chuckles as the two walk past a group of playing children. Some of the Dothrakii and freed people greet them, and she with the Prince wave back at them. It's a beautiful sight to see her khalasar so happy and lively in the morning. However, something nags Daenerys from the previous conversation.

"I heard you said that this type of dragontooth is foreign to you. Tell me, are there different types of dragons?" She heard before legends of sea dragons in the Sunset Sea or frost dragons at the Shivering Sea, yet none of it has been proven to be true. Only the dragons of Old Valyria are real, at least the ones she's aware of.

"Well, the fact your dragons looks so different to the ones I'm familiar with, then I must say yes, there are different kinds."

"Fascinating," Dany smiles at the thought. There's more to dragons than she'd ever known. "What do they look like, if I may ask?"

"Well, the ones I'm familiar with looks like this," the Prince flourishes her cape, billowing dust to some passerby. On the cape, Dany sees a long serpent-like creature with horned heads and four legs, ending with a furry tail.

It has no wings, Dany notes, and it has whiskers like a catfish. "Does it swim or crawl like a firewyrm?"

"They can swim and crawl, but they're far too prideful for that," the Prince chuckles before continuing their walk.

"Prideful? Dragonriders and dragonlords are prideful, not their mounts."

"If you try to mount one of these, they may either blast you with lightning or lecture you for hours on end."

Lecture? "Are we still talking of dragons here? Dragons are incapable of speech, Prince Miko."

"Wait, wait," the Prince stops in an empty road on their way to the broken manse. "What do you mean your dragons are unable to speak? I'm sure they'll learn human languages as they get older; Saki, Futo, and Tojiko are still hatchlings after all."

"Dragons of Valyria are unable to speak," Dany sighs for the Prince does not seem to understand this simple fact. "Do they speak where you come from?"

"Yes! A lot! Wait," the Prince stands back, now looking apprehensive. "Can Valyrian dragons cast magic?"

"Magic? You mean the dragons themselves?"

"Yes. Do they?"

"No, they- Wait, are you saying those wingless serpents of your land can cast magic?"

"Of course!" the Prince exclaims. "They're intelligent beings on par with the gods. Though that does not mean someone like my acquaintance can't keep a young one as a pet."

Keeping a dragon as a pet… Didn't all dragons die during my family's reign? Or is it because of that serpent creature, which does not look at all like a dragon, that people like her thinks that dragons are still alive? "You jest."

The Prince shakes her head. "My acquaintance, Kasen Ibaraki is her name, uses hers to ride in the skies all the time when she feels lazy."

"That serpent can fly?" That's really the most surprising thing of all to Daenerys. "How? It has no wings!"

"Sorcery."

…

Now that she thinks about it, that does makes sense. The Prince flies using sorcery, so if what she says is true of intelligent serpents, then perhaps they could fly too. And maybe that's why they're seen as gods. A part of her screams that this is all a lie, a farce made by the Prince to trick her gullible mind. But her shock looks genuine and I know that she can fly. "So, your dragons are seen as gods where you came from."

"And you're saying yours are nothing more than weapons of war?" the Prince raises her brow.

"Dragonblood flows through my veins, Prince Miko. Us Targaryens have a history of riding and using dragons for war; they're more intelligent than they look, but a far cry from the intelligence of man."

"…How disappointing," the Prince sighs. "And to think I can show them off later to her…"

Daenerys grows tense at her words. "Were you thinking of taking them? Taking my dragons to wherever you came from?"

"I was, but now I change my mind after realising that they're nothing more than glorified siege weapons. I mean," the Prince floats off the ground. "I already have magic for flight, and I'm sure my magical and divine powers are better than some fire."

"Dragonflame is not some flame. It can melt steel and rocks with ease."

"That's neat," the Prince nods. "But having a dragon that only breathes fire is a downside for me."

"Good," Daenerys answers sternly. "While I enjoy your company and advice, I will not hand over those dragons to you. You may have the privilege to name and ride them in the future, but they shall remain mine to conquer the Iron Throne. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, yes, you made yourself quite clear, Queen Daenerys. Let's get you back to the manse, shall we? You've yet to eat breakfast."

…

Their walk feels quite sour, especially after Daenerys' outburst. But how can't she not be angry at the Prince? She was trying to take her dragons away from her, the eggs that she was gifted all that time ago during her marriage. By all rights, the dragons should be with her, not the Prince! She's a Targaryen, blood of Old Valyria and the dragonlords of old. The dragons are her children, her keys to win back the Iron Throne!

Yet… The dragons, ever since they were born, have been with the Prince. Daenerys was far too focused with her duties as Queen and khalasar that the responsibility of raising those baby dragons lied with the Prince. And she must give it to her: the dragons grow larger everyday and they look happy as well. If she thinks she's the one to own the dragons, is it not my fault then? Do they not hiss or scurry away when I try to caress them? Would I truly blame her if she starts riding them like the dragonlords of old? I know nothing of that, yet she has knowledge of dragons from her lands…

Before they walk up the stairs to the broken manse, Dany grabs the Prince's cape. She turns to her. "What's wrong?"

"Prince Miko, may I ask a favour from you?"

"A favour?" she breaks into a smile. "Now, what might the Queen be asking from a Crown Prince? Must be something quite important. But worry not!" she declares, flaring her hair and cape. "I am here to help!"

"Can you teach me sorcery?"

Vaes Tolorro

Aggo is the second to return from the Red Waste, three days after Rakharo's return from the South. This time, it is not Prince Miko who is deathly tired but Daenerys, half-asleep with bags under her eyes. She nearly glazes over Aggo's introduction but she manages to keep herself awake and aware.

For now, at least.

"Khaleesi," Aggo kneels before her, his hands holding out another gift. "The only thing that stands in the South-West are ruins and death. However, I managed to salvage this piece from a broken city. Take it, blood of my blood, and let it adorn your beautiful wrist."

"Thank you, blood of my blood. Take it easy and rest in the shade; you've done well." Daenerys also wants to rest in the shade, but she knows she can't do that. No, she has work to do with the Prince.

"Prince Miko," Aggo says as he walks past the Prince, whose complexion now looks lively. The dragon Saki screeches back in its own mock greeting; Dany wonders if the dragon truly understands speech, like the dragons that the Prince knows of.

"Now," the Prince approaches Daenerys, "what's the gift this time?"

Daenerys unwraps the cloth and finds an iron bracelet hidden within. Set into the black iron is a fiery-red opal, like a frozen flame in glass. "Beautiful," she says, holding the stone up to the late-morning sun. The light emanating from the rock looks as if a swirling fire. "Fitting for a Targaryen." She puts it on her right arm and admires its beauty.

"Ah, an opal," the Prince speaks from behind her. "A rare and precious stone, also useful in alchemy, but not as much as the dragontooth."

"How is your experiments going with that?"

"Oh, splendidly! Never doubt my abilities, your grace, or else you'll find yourself far outpaced!" the Prince laughs, twirling with her cape. "How about you, Queen Daenerys? How goes your experiments and trials?"

"Please don't remind me," Dany groans.

On the day that Dany asked to learn magic, the Prince had given her a lengthy and somewhat nonsensical sermon or lecture that lasted nearly until sundown, leaving her both thirsty, hungry, and utterly confused. It doesn't help matters that the Prince sometimes ignores questions that Dany might had, especially the ones concerning the idea of Taoism and other such strange manners. She's very much not a good teacher.

That was day one. Day two is the day of actual training. At the time, she took off and said to Ser Jorah she would be training with the Prince in the broken manse. He didn't look too happy about it but she received no vocal complaints. However, Dany did complain about her first practice with magic. When the Prince said that her first magic practice would involve fire, she was ecstatic. Dragonblood flows through her veins, so she was sure that she could do some form of pyromancy, or calcination as the Prince calls it.

At least that was the case until the Prince revealed that she's supposed to turn the fire into water.

What sounded like a plausible practice for her now seems impossible. The Prince showed herself doing it, transforming a cup of burning spices into water, but no amount of burning Dany does turned the ashes wet. She always told her to remember the points of her lecture, but in truth Dany remembered absolutely none of it. The training lasted till sunset with occasional breaks to eat between, but she was deathly tired by the end of it; accomplishing nothing absolutely drained her.

And now it's the third day. As they walk back into the broken manse, Daenerys sees her handmaids waiting at the doors, looking quite anxious. "Good morning," the Prince and Saki greets them. "You seem to be looking for something. May I ask what for?"

Jhiqui is the first to speak. "Um, it is known that sorcery is powerful. We wonder if… You can teach us as well?"

"Teach?" the Prince's eyes light up.

"Yes," Doreah speaks. "As we're always by her grace's side, we want to make sure that we're able to defend her should it ever come down to it."

"Oh ho… Ha ha! New pupils, yes! Alright, let's all go inside," the Prince ushers them into the manse, not asking Dany whether this is a good idea or not. When not around, the handmaids would usually help around in preparing food for the khalasar or distributing the Prince's medicines, but Dany guesses that it would be good to take a break once in a while.

As Dany goes about preparing the bowl of dried leaves, she hears the Prince talking in great lengths and details about… Ah, she's doing her sermons again. I'm so sorry Irri, Jhiqui, Doreah. You guys have to listen to it all like me. But the thought of them experiencing the same frustration she did brings a bit of comfort.

Saki sits on the makeshift pillar-table with her. Dany carefully pushes the bowl to the dragon who quickly sets the leaves aflame. This is easy enough for Saki to follow, Daenerys thinks, but when will I be able to make them breathe fire with commands? At least by being with the Prince, I can spend some time with the dragons, Dany smiles.

She goes through approximately seventeen bowls of leaves before growing tired. The sun is now high in the sky and the Prince is still going on with her non-stop talk; she does not look tired at all. The same can't be said for the handmaids, who all look pleadingly at Dany. She smirks, but she's not so cruel as to leave them there. "Prince Miko," she interrupts the sermon, "may I ask you something?"

"Sure, what is it?" the Prince turns to her to the relief of the others.

"Where did you learn all this sorcery and… Alchemy? Certainly you were not born with this knowledge."

"Of course not! You see, I had a great teacher to teach me the ways of the Tao and of alchemy and other sorceries. She's extremely skilled in hermitage as well, and the reason why I'm like this," the Prince claims proudly.

Something nags in Dany's head, especially regarding this Prince's record with other women in her life. Like the tales of her wives or the illicit relationship she has with a priest of a rivalling faith… "Is she also your… Paramour? Like the one-"

"No."

Oh, that was quick. "I'm sorry if I've brought forth unnecessary ghosts, Prince Miko."

"It's alright… Just keep with your training. If you're still unable to do it, meditate on my sermons."

But I do not remember your sermons …

By sunset, Dany has no progress except in creating a pile of ashes. The Prince takes them, saying that it'll be useful in creating medicinal herbs and poultices. As the Prince leaves with Saki and the ashes, Dany and the handmaids sighs in relief before succumbing to a fit of laughter. I guess doing it with others is more enjoyable, huh?

The next day, Jhogo has yet to return. So instead, she continues her magic training with the Prince and her handmaids. However, Doreah asks to be excused on the first lesson. Irri and Jhiqui whispers to each other that Doreah is most likely meeting with Ser Jorah. The thought of her handmaid with him is… Funny, but certainly heart-warming. At least there's some love that blossoms in this city… Dany thinks, glancing at the Prince before continuing with her burning.

Futo is far too excited with their dragonflame, setting ablaze to more than just the leaves in the cup. Though her flames are smaller than Saki's, it feels hot all the same when it brushes with her fingers; luckily it doesn't burn her.

And again, the day ends with failure. She's slowly growing tired of this repeat. And so, when the Prince gathers the ashes, she asks: "Am I simply unskilled in magic? Is this simply a useless act I'm doing?"

"Nonsense!" the Prince answers. "Your aptitude in magic is quite good."

"How? I've made no water."

"But you feel tired, don't you?" the Prince smiles. "Someone who burns normally will not feel tired from such an act. Here, you're actually feeding into the flames, trying to turn it into water. There's progress here, you simply are not seeing it."

"But how much longer then?"

"Patience is a virtue, at least that's what my friend told me."

"The monk?"

"Just continue what you're doing and you'll be fine," the Prince says, taking the ashes and dragon.

As supper is being served, Doreah arrives looking quite happy. She hears a few giggles here and there with her handmaids, but Dany is too tired to hear much of it. She sleeps early that day.

Waking up with the sky shining, she realises that she has woken up late. Dany still feels quite groggy from yesterday, but at least she has energy to-

"Your grace!" Ser Jorah bursts into the broken manse. "We've spotted riders coming from the South-East."

Riders? Her knight's words slowly awakens her. "You mean Jhogo? Has he returned?"

"Please see for yourself, your grace," Ser Jorah answers before dashing off towards the gate.

Curious, she tells her handmaids to change her into her best Dothrakii vests, trousers, and leather sandals before heading to the gate with them. When they arrive there, she sees the Prince already awake with a hand at the grip of her sword. Though smiling, she looks ready for a confrontation.

In the distance, she sees her bloodrider leading the group of riders. It seems that he has brought not gifts of trinkets, but people. Then there must be something to the South-East, a city or settlement.

But what catches everyone's attention is not Jhogo but the creatures their guests are riding. They're not riding on horses, no. Daenerys has never seen anything like it, and from the looks of Ser Jorah and the Prince's faces, neither have they. They have tall legs, its yellow fur and skin is accompanied by a long, upright neck sporting a head smaller than a horse's. But the thing's massive, taller than even Ser Jorah. But the strangest of all are the humps on their backs, the riders sitting between two of them like a saddle.

As they all stare in awe at the beasts, the first guest comes forward, descending from the creature and bowing to Daenerys. The man has a bald head and milky-white skin, his nose with jewels set into them. He looks rich like a royal, with cloths of spun silver and gold. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Queen Daenerys Targaryen, the khaleesi of her people," the man speaks, his voice courteous and careful in the Valyrian tongue. "I am Xaro Xhoan Daxos, a member of the Thirteen of Qarth. I've come to bring her grace and her khalasar into the city, where she may live a more splendour life than here in the Red Waste."

Qarth, I 've heard of that before. The legendary city in the East, far from the eyes of Westeros. Are we truly setting our eyes on there?

The second to descend from their beasts is a strange woman, draped in a black silk robe and wearing an ornate, lacquered-wood mask. Its red colour makes it stand out even more. She bows her head to Daenerys before introducing herself. "I am Quaithe of the Shadows," she speaks in a whisper, yet spoken in the Common Tongue. "I've come to see the one with dragonblood in their veins."

"Then you've come to the right place," Daenerys answers.

"Oh my, what do we have here~?"

Daenerys turns to look at the one speaking, a woman astride the strange beast. Like Quaithe, she looks queer as well. But instead of red and black, the woman is dressed all in blue. She wears an ornate blue dress exposing her left breast, though most of it is covered by strings of gold and jewels. A gold-and-silver necklace hangs from her neck, each circlet punched with large holes. But strangest of all is that, like the Prince, she has an odd hairstyle: two circlets behind her head held by a large ornate hairpin. They look to have been dyed sky-blue.

"Dearie me," she speaks, her voice sounding as sweet as a courtesan or lover, yet strangely enough Dany can't pinpoint her tongue. "Is that you, Crown Prince? I never expected you to be here~! How have you been?"

Crown Prince? "Do you know her?" Daenerys asks the Prince, but she looks half-angry and half-scared, gritting her teeth as if ready to run away.

"No, your grace."

"Of course you do, silly~" the woman giggles, taking out the large hairpin from her hair. "Oh, where are my manners? Let me introduce myself." The woman descends- No, she's floats down from the beast, her blue silk shawl billowing behind her like clouds. "My name is Seiga Kaku the Wicked Warlock Hermit, owner to the House of the Undying."

Qarth

Their departure from Vaes Tolorro was met with some resistance from the riders and freedmen. However, Jorah's ample supply of fruits and water made sure that none of them goes hungry in their journey towards Qarth.

"We shall follow the shierak qiya through the Red Waste," was what his Queen declared. "Drogo, who rides through the night sky, shall lead us to our salvation. So onwards, my khalasar."

At times, Jorah does wonder if there is actually a great herd in the sky. He's still quite faithful to the Old Gods, but there's scarcely any weirwoods here in Essos, and least of all the Dothraki Sea and the Red Waste. Yet, the burning star in the sky feels more than just a coincidence. If you are there, Drogo, I hope you can see how much she has grown. I hope whatever sign you give shall lead her to prosperity.

Jorah rides along as Daenerys' Queensguard, with Doreah, irri, and Jhiqui in tow as well. But it does not comfort him for the fact that the fraud prince is riding closest to her, often speaking things to her ears. Corrupting things, Jorah reckons.

And sure, while he must commend her for helping the sick and starving, he saw it. He saw her expression when they met with the Qartheen delegates; she knows something. Especially that warlock, Seiga Kaku. From what Doreah has told me, their relations was that of teacher and student, yet she suspects far more. And I the same.

The only question then is "what?" The only interaction between those two have been quite confusing for Jorah. Each time the warlock approaches his Queen or the fraud, the fraud would move away from her. She's not aware of these camel beasts nor about the existence of a city called Qarth. Are they working together then? Or are the relations between them have ended in the past?

Even then, he still puts no trust in them. Better be careful than sorry, yet all it gives him now are near-sleepless nights.

Once they near the city, Jorah can smell the scent of salt in the air. Irri and Jhiqui are uncomfortable from it. The sea… It's not far from here. Qarth may have ports then, and a way to sail West.

It surprises him greatly that none in the khalasar have perished in the journey. He gives thanks to his Queen's planning.

As they ride through the morning sun, Jorah sees a company of men riding atop camels approach them. Warriors adorned with golden spears and curved helms, but their beasts are even more generously adorned. He reckons them to be even finer than any Lords in Westeros. They exchange a few words with the delegates before creating a column for Daenerys, leading them towards the city.

And when they see the city…

Jorah hears gasps from everyone present. A great city of awe and majesty, an oasis of the Red Waste. Three sets of walls guard Qarth, stretching far to the East and West and guarding the green from the desert. The first gate opens through the red sandstone wall, decorated with depictions of beasts and dragons. The second is white granite with images of war and bloodshed. The Dragons spit their flames at the sight. And lastly, the tallest of the walls made in black marble. Images of men and women engaged in the seven sighs and sixteen seats of pleasure graces the khalasar, and his Queen blushes at the sight.

The last gate opens. As they all flinch from the bright sunlight, Jorah is caught by surprise from the sudden fanfare of trumpets and gongs and flowers. Cheers and praises erupts from the city's inhabitants as the khalasar enter its grounds.

Setting his eyes upon the city, now he sees why it's been deemed legendary. He's been to King's Landing, yet the seat of Westeros does not look half as lively and colourful as Qarth. Buildings are painted and as colourful as rainbows, sometimes with jewels adorning its walls. Narrow and colourful towers rise high into the sky, statues of serpents and men lining the pillars. Even there he sees women with one breast bared throwing flowers and trinkets from the balconies.

As they pass by an arcade of marble statues, Doreah rides back to him, breaking his wide-eyed wonder. "Doreah," he speaks softly, careful of sharp ears, "how goes our Queen?"

"Like you, she's quite enamoured by everything she sees," she snickers, brushing her silver hair from her beautiful eyes. "She's still a young girl, like Irri and Jhiqui by her side, but sharper than them. However," she glances about nervously, "I fear we're being played a trick by the Qartheen, Jorah."

"How so? I have my own suspicions about this city."

"Indeed I as well. I see tattoos marked on the greeters' breasts, arms, and face. I fear they're nothing more than slaves, at least most of the ones present here."

Sure enough, upon a closer inspection, they all bear those markings. He recognises a few tear drops and other things on the Qartheen, but some are also plain. "A mummer's farce," he hisses. "To soften us before this city devours our Queen whole."

"We can still gather supplies here," Doreah adds, "but we will need to leave soon after for our safety."

Jorah looks up at those camel riders, or camelry as he calls it. He reckons he could strike the beast down with a good swing to the legs, yet he fears that the spears have a greater reach than him. It'll be hard to take them down, and even more so within the city walls. Hope my armour shall not come to use. "What of our little golden fraud? Has she said anything that may be of use?"

"She speaks fluently in different tongues it seems, but nothing else of late," she confesses, reining her horse as she nears one of the camels. "Khaleesi is still close to her, lending her ear whenever the woman speaks."

"And learning sorcery as well," Jorah groans. "That will do her no good; if anything she should be learning how to rule, and none of it should come from the lips of that fraud. Nothing more on those two's relations?"

"I apologise," she lowers her head. "Though the warlock loves to speak sweetly, the Prince's mouth is shut on the matter."

"Is that so…" Jorah watches his Queen riding in between the three delegates, her bloodriders leading the way. He sees the black dragon astride on her while the other two are on the fraud's mount. Some of the Qartheen are greeting them in their melodious language. "Do you know anything of Qartheen language?"

"Little, Jorah."

"What are they shouting then?"

Doreah takes a moment to listen in. "…They're calling her the Queen of the Dragons, and some the Queen of Qarth."

"Who? The Queen with one dragon or the fraud with two?"

Doreah stays silent on the matter, simply frowning.

"Alright then, we've stayed idle for too long. Keep your watch and earn Irri and Jhiqui's trust. I'll ride up ahead with her grace."

"See you later, Jorah." The handmaid gives him a quick peck on his cheek and leaves for the back of the khalasar. He touches the remains of the kiss. Jorah knows that this is nothing more than a play to fool anyone curious, and that his love still lies with his Queen. And yet…

Jorah shakes those thoughts away. No, he must focus on the mission at hand. Who else can I bring against the fraud? he wonders. Even Rakharo, who has put trust in Jorah to keep the Queen safe from that fraud, may not be able to carry the same sentiment to his riders. If anything, they may see it as an act of betrayal and treason, something so grave and taboo especially as bloodriders.

And there's not much trust to be gained from the freed slaves, he thinks. They sing praises to that fraud and is enthralled by her, so it's not possible for them to see her as a traitor. But luckily, they're not the ones with bows and arakhs. Irri and Jhiqui… Perhaps if they feed our Queen with distrust for the Prince, she-

Jorah pauses for a moment, looking down a road to the right of him. He sees the sea at its end, its water bright blue like the sky and as expansive as the Dothraki Sea. There's a few ships down the port: he recognises the shape and sails of Tyroshii slaver ships, swan ships from the Summer Islands, but what catches his attention is something surprising.

Tied to one corner of the port are a few cogs, surrounded by flying black birds in the air. He recognises the ship design to be from Westeros, yet he does not remember the coat of arms on the sail: a black raven with wings spread and a pair of golden eyes in its wings, perched atop a blue skull with black eyes, all on a sail of white and red. Is that a new house from my absence? Or has my exile well and truly rotted my memory? Either way, the next goal is clear: find information on Westeros.

Realising he's being left behind, Jorah rides back up to the head of the caravan, careful of passing by the masked-woman's camel. He's still unsure of that one as she rarely speaks of anything. As the group passes beneath an arch of bronze snakes and jade roses, he overhears a conversation from the merchant. "-and everything in this city shall be yours, O Queen of dragons. Whatever you fancy and whatever your eyes are set upon."

"Oh, no need to listen to those pretty words, Queen dearie~" says the warlock, lying or floating atop her blue-draped camel. "You don't own Qarth, and neither does the sparkling Xaro here. That prestige goes to the Purebloods, but even they are vying for power with many curious people. The Tourmaline Brotherhood, the Thirteen-"

"I'm a member of the Thirteen," Xaro interjects, but the warlock ignores him.

"-the Ancient Guild of Spicers, and of course, yours truly~" she giggles, crossing her long legs and facing Daenerys. Jorah spots strange papers tied to her ankles. "Why, it's a wonder no blood has been spilled yet~!"

"The words of warlocks are as good as dust, O Queen of Dragons. It is best to heed my advice instead and head to my palace where your khalasar shall spend their time in luxury in their own decorated rooms," Xaro smiles. "And we shall shower you with gifts beyond your imagining, and in no time will your people be adorned with silver and gold." Jorah doesn't like his demeanour, that politeness feels far too fake on him.

"While I accept your offer for a place to stay, what I want is simple. I want King's Landing," she declares to all who's present. "I want my rightful seat on the Iron Throne across the Narrow Sea. If you plan to give me gifts, give me swords and ships, Xaro, Lady Seiga, Quaithe."

Such brashness, Jorah frowns. I fear if you state it like that, the Qartheen-

"Oh my, is that what you truly require?" asks the warlock.

"It is so," his Queen answers with a dragon screeching on her shoulder.

"If that is all, then allow me to give you these things, Queen dearie." The warlock waves her hand and lets a piece of paper to land on her hand before giving it to Daenerys. "Follow my perfumes to the House of the Undying and you shall find not only ships and swords, but men to hold them as well~!"

"I'll see to your offer then, Lady Seiga."

Jorah and the fraud prince takes this time to intervene. "Your grace," Jorah calls from behind her, "may I have a moment with you?"

"Yes, I need to speak to you as well," says the fraud.

The three slow down and let themselves be joined with the freed people of the khalasar. "What is it?"

"Your grace, we should not put our trust with them," says Jorah in a low tone. "All are planning to take advantage of you."

"I second that," the fraud prince speaks to his surprise. "Seiga… She's as wicked as she claims to be, and I can attest to that, your grace."

"Ser Jorah."

"Yes your grace."

"As my trusted advisor, I always listen to your opinions on matters beyond my reach. I understand your concerns; these people may not be the best to put my trust in. To follow willingly into their homes. But know this: who are we to gain help from, then? We need ships for Westeros, swords to cut that usurper and murderer of my family, and men to hold them. We need help, and I'm not so blind and stubborn as to refuse it when it's offered to me. Is that clear?"

"…Aye, your grace," he bows his head.

"And dear Prince Miko-"

Dear.

"I wonder if your worries truly stem from her untrustworthiness, or is it perhaps from a foul relations you had with her? Your heart is your burden, not mine. So tell me, with her by my side, will she be useful?"

Jorah glares at her, yet the fraud's face looks as if ready to give up. "Yes. With her by your side, we will be strengthened. But I wonder if it is truly worth the sacrifice, your grace. She's wicked."

"But I must make compromises. Wicked men have their use, and your words only strengthen my resolve," the Queen smiles, still looking as young as the girl Jorah met so long ago at Pentos.

The fraud's meekness is a great enjoyment to Jorah, though he never lets it show on his face. Even when she sometimes look sharply at him. Such an effect… Perhaps I can create a falling out using the warlock? But that is for later. "Your grace, I spotted some ships from the Qartheen port. Westerosii ships. We may-"

"Ah, those ships?"

Jorah is caught by surprise of the warlock's sudden appearance on the rump of his horse. "What the!? Get off you-"

"I'm just here for a bit, no need to be so angry~" she giggles. "Ah, those ships. They sailed from the West and landed here, saying that they wanted to establish good trade connections with Qarth. An interesting lot, they are, and one of the reason why I consider helping you."

"What's happening in Westeros?" his Queen asks, ensnared by her words.

"Oh my~" the warlock grins, shining the pearly white teeth beneath her dark-blue lips. "Haven't you heard?"