Note:
I promised this would be a Dany chapter but I stalled a little. But I tried to make amends with you by throwing in Missandei's first POV instead. So sorry. We will have Dany next. I promise. Then Jon after her.
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Tyrion couldn't help but look once more to the window of his solar. The ravens are nothing but a blot now against the red and yellow horizon. Hundreds had flown that afternoon and one of them would have to fly farther than the rest, beyond the Narrow Sea. To Dragon's Bay, Daenerys Targaryen's seat of power.
It would ease up some of Tyrion's burdens if only they would send a messenger instead of a bird directly to Daenerys. Atleast they would be sure that she would get the message personally and make Tyrion knew once and for all if she really was in Meereen since their spies proved to be useless as their Braavosi employer.
Tyrion couldn't help but to shook his head in disappointment and annoyance. How useful Varys would be at this moment.
Tyrion has nothing against the Braavosi Lord but he just felt that Lord Aron was not fitting for the role he was currently in. How many times did he failed the King? First with the Queen's dragons. They were preparing for four full grown dragons since the Braavosi told them ten years ago that three out of the seven dragon eggs of the Queen hatched. Now, only a moon ago, he told them that all those seven eggs hatched after all and now fully grown. What would they do if all those seven flew with Drogon--a veteran of wars--with Queen Daenerys on his back? They were preparing for three or four dragons, but eight? Gladly Daenerys had no desire in conquering Westeros anymore or Tyrion feared they may not survive.
How many sleepless nights he had endured when he found out about those dragons? If only Lord Aron found out about the dragon eggs much sooner they would have destroyed it even before they hatched. Or maybe the dragons may serve a purpose afterall? But still, they were a threat. They were comparable to the wildfyres that used to be beneath King's Landing. An asset, yes, but a greater liability.
And now, another great failure courtesy of the great Master of Whisperers. He did not only fail to notify them of the departure of the Princess from Meereen, he also let her take Dragonstone. The most important island in Westeros as of to date. How hard can it be, really? To know when hundreds almost a thousand of ships sailed from Dragon's Bay to Westeros? Are the spies of Lord Aron blind? The spies in Essos he can understand by a fraction but the other spies in Westeros? The sailors?
Not only that. The dragons. Gods, the dragons in Dragonstone. As per usual the Master of Whisperers were late once more with the most important of news. Yesterday night, on one of their meetings, he revealed that two dragons had been seen flying around the area of the Targaryen seat. The Princess had taken her birth right six days ago, surely Lord Aron must do his job twice harder and efficiently than usual when the knowledge of Dragonstone's fall reached them. But no, no. He had to wait for almost five days before knowing that two dragons were but a few flights away from them. Lord Aron seems to be neglecting his responsibilities and that would cause them their lives. He had presented the issue to King Bran right after he finished his useless vigil in the godswood the same day they found the bodies at thte bay but the King doesn't seem to mind. He merely nodded at Tyrion as if Tyrion discussed the great weather they had. Tyrion knew the Master of Whisperers was aware of the idle talk he had made with the King thus explaining the smug grin on the Braavosi's face every time Tyrion would chance upon him in a corridor.
Tyrion would give up everything to have the pleasure of planting his fists--small they might be--to that man's pathetic face to remind him that the greatest accomplishment he had done so far was knowing the Princess's birth. And what good did that do to the realm? It only threatened the King, resulting him sending cutthroats to the Princess and in return pushing Daenerys to do drastic measures to protect her child causing the starvation of almost half the realm.
Tyrion inhaled deeply, controlling the anger that wells within him by just thinking of the man's mistakes.
Going back to his troubles with the Dragon Queen, a messenger wouldn't suffice since Daenerys' decree still stands in Essos and more so in Meereen: the Queen's capital. No Westerosi could ever step inside any city in Essos. Of course, they could hire an Essosi merchant to bring the scroll to the Queen, but would he agree? And even if he did, how sure can Tyrion be that that merchant would not be hailed as a traitor and then killed by his own countrymen if they found out he was carrying a message from the Westerosi King? Tyrion was aware of how the Essosi thinks of them and how loyal they were to their "Mhysa".
That point was moot though. The raven had already flied onwards and he cannot do anything to change that fact.
Tyrion knew it was wrong to hope against his King's wishes but Tyrion prayed to all the gods; both the old and the new, that the raven would die from strain for flying such a long distance and not reach his former Queen. Westeros be damned. They would have to make do with all the resources they had. They still need Dragonstone back though in whatever means necessary, but begging Daenerys? That won't work, he told the King so, just this morning.
Tyrion knew Daenerys. He knew her weaknesses and her strength. He knew as well what the Dragon Queen wanted most in the world; a child. A human child. And the King and his sister tried to take away that child. What reply did the King expect? But the King was desperate. Whatever he saw a week ago in the North convinced him that they would need the Dragon Queen's help and Tyrion couldn't do anything to convince the King otherwise.
What would Daenerys say if she got the message? Would she accept the King's invitation? And if she did, at what cause? Their lives? His head? These questions were always his constant companion for days now since the incident at Blackwater Bay when King Bran decided to send a message to Daenerys.
The same message King Bran wrote himself which did nothing to ease Tyrion's distress. In his paranoia he even convinced Samwell to open the scroll just to take a peek at the words and then to reseal it once more afterwards. None would be the wiser. Except the King. Or so the Grandmaester says and Tyrion reluctantly agreed. So, he watched as Grandmaester Samwell tied the uncharacteristically thick scroll on the foot of one of his strongest ravens and watched as he threw it away to the window of the Grandmaester's rookery. One thing was sure though, whatever was written in that scroll made the King so sure that Daenerys would go running to them.
Then the realization sinks into his mind. Gods, Tyrion hoped it does not involve Jon Snow--who, according to King Bran had the evidence they needed for the Lords of Westeros to believe them--for his letter too was written personally by the King. Although Jon's scroll has not been sent yet and currently in the possession of the King.
What was keeping King Bran from ordering Samwell to send a raven to his brother...cousin? It was wishful thinking, Tyrion knew, but the King might have some reservations against sending a raven to his cousin because of the verbal fight he and Jon had eleven years ago and not because of some greater scheme. He hoped.
Tyrion remembered it once more. Eddard Stark's remaining brood, quarrelling over the Princess's relation to their House and the possible implications of that truth to Queen Sansa and King Bran's rights over their crowns.
Tyrion shakes his head and reached for his goblet and drank deep the sweet Arbor gold.
He must really stop reliving that moment in his memory. What was done was done. Lady Arya and Jon sided with each other and never stepped at the capital or Winterfell since then. Even if it was the King's name day or the yearly celebration of his coronation.
Tyrion had made excuses for them to some Lords who are prying about the blatant rift in the royal family. Mostly it was Lady Arya's absence they would ask about. Tyrion would state the truth then, saying the girl was too free spirited to stay in one place. That after the lock down of Essos, she had been wondering the seven kingdoms like an adventurer. Or to the sophisticated Ladies, a rogue. Few would ask about Jon...Aegon. Some Lords and Ladies had forgotten he even existed at all but there are some who do and ask for mere entertainment. He was Rhaegar's son after all.
Tyrion sighed. The last legacy of Varys the Spider.
That was the part where Tyrion would lie since the King was always stoic and known to ignore some Lords when asked about his cousin. Tyrion became the mouthpiece of the King on those occasions rather than the Hand. Bronn would always tease him about that, calling him the mummer's puppet; the one who opened his mouth as per the wishes of the master.
Tyrion would tell the nosy Lords and Ladies then, that the son of Rhaegar was exiled to the North for his crimes, to appease the armies of the Mad Queen and leave Westeros for good. Mostly the Lords and Ladies were glad the barbarians and the eunuchs the Mad Queen had brought to their lands were all whisked away, never to return. Some were unsatisfied by the King's treatment to Jon's trial. Kinslayers don't deserve to live a normal life, some would say. And then some would wish for his death, since sinners like Jon were frowned upon by the gods and may cause a calamity to the realm.
They would say that as if Tyrion was not a kinslayer himself.
What the realm doesn't know though was Lady Arya and Jon's resentment towards King Bran and Queen Sansa. Lady Arya was angered that her siblings would kill a child. A child with Stark blood, Jon's blood. And it did not help either that Sansa and Bran hid the truth from Jon. Jon was more than furious by the fact that his own cousins whom he treated as siblings hide his daughter's true identity from him. That the daughter Daenerys had given birth to was his and not from some other lover like he was made to believe.
Tyrion always find it both amusing and sad that Jon, of all people, believed the lies he had made. Jon must have clinged to the idea that Daenerys had other lovers and one of those got her with child. It must have been easier, resenting Daenerys, rather than admitting to himself that he killed his own flesh and blood while it was just a quickening in his lover's womb. Tyrion could never comprehend the thoughts that must have ran on Jon's mind and the hardships he must have faced when the truth had finally been brought to light, it must have crumbled the man's world into pieces all over again.
Jon wouldn't even know the truth at all if it wasn't for Lady Arya who, on her travels, managed to meet the Princess and the Queen and then decided to tell Jon. If it was any consolation, atleast Lady Arya had some sense in eluding from Jon the greatest sins her siblings had made. That Jon's cousins tried to kill his child for the sake of power.
My brother already killed the woman he loved and their babe with her. But they're alive and he is not the kinslayer he believed he was. I don't want him to truly become one.
It was his fault, he knew. The words he said to Jon for him to commit such an atrocious crime. The lies he made to keep the Princess's parentage a secret. All his fault.
Tyrion sighed and tried his best to ward away the guilt. His thoughts turned to the things the Small Council had discussed earlier instead just to hide from his own sins.
The Small Council rarely agreed on one thing but they concurred all together that Dragonstone's fall must be kept a secret. They all knew the Lords of Westeros were easily dissuaded especially if their lives were on the line, the gifts they sent ten years ago to Daenerys to appease her was enough evidence.
Who would not say that those cravens wouldn't run to the Dragon Queen for help the moment they found out that the items needed to save their lives were all currently in her possession? It would not do to lose some Lords and their army to the Dragon Queen and her daughter before they even planned the expedition North. And Tyrion was far too aware that some Lords and kingdoms were very much willing to bend their knees to Daenerys. Especially those who were not satisfied by the King's accession and his current governance.
Lord Aron, despite his failures was doing his best to regulate the whispers coming from some sailors who came near Dragonstone and saw the dragons and ships docked by the bay. If the crown did not confirm Dragonstone's demise then the truth of what the people saw would remain nothing but a rumor. The soldier's of Dragonstone whom the common folk saw laying dead at Blackwater Bay was said to die in an epidemic. The bodies were given back to the families but inorder to keep their lips tightly shut when they saw their relatives wound marks, the crown has to give them twice the normal compensations.
Tyrion wiped his face with the palm of his hands.
Expect Daenerys to make things complicated. She did not only take the dragonglass from them, she made sure they would lose an ample amount of gold as well and some Lords to boot if they got wind up on what was truly happening.
Not only that. The King revealed to them that he cannot See Dragonstone. Tyrion was familiar with the King's magic but he would not presume to say that he truly understands it. Tyrion only knew that when King Bran's eyes were white it means he was not only on another place, but on another time as well. He can see the past, the present and some glimpses of the future. The present being blocked to the King, Tyrion knew all too well. It happened before with Daenerys and now applying with the daughter as well. Tyrion had suggested to King Bran to simply look into the past just for them to know how the Princess did what she did and for Tyrion to know as well the Princess's character.
Her weaknesses, her way of fighting, just to prepare themselves incase she invaded Westeros. Did the Princess charged in the van or just delegates? Did she prefer to ride on a dragon's back like Daenerys or fight on land with her soldiers? Tyrion did not even knew if the Princess can use those wings he kept on hearing about. The whispers of the Princess's successful expeditions varied as well, it cannot be relied on. Tyrion needed a substantial proof, a...a witness of some sorts and what better way to abuse the King's powers to their advantage? But sadly he can't.
King Bran had tried to look the very first day they found the bodies at the bay. He tried Seeing but only saw the soldiers the night before the attack on the hall of Dragonstone, having their dinner. Then, nothing. That concludes the Grandmaester Samwell's theory though, that the men were killed in the morning or at midnight. Midnight it was. But knowing the time of the Princess's invasion did not answer their questions. That was deeply worrying for Tyrion. The mother he understands but the daughter seems to be an entirely different kind of dragon, and not knowing what kind terrifies himl.
A dragon at their doorstep was very worrying. Under normal circumstances a Dragon in Westeros--whether a person or a beast--would be the top of their priorities but with the coming storm in the North it became the least of their worries. Tyrion knew he must focus on the greater problem on their table.
How would they win the war in the North?
Tyrion had sent a raven to Queen Sansa and to Lord Gendry in advance, telling them of the realms'...predicament and the coming Great Council. It was Lord Gendry who replied first. Some of the weapons he made in Winterfell was still in his possession but it was not enough for the war. A hundred axes, three thousand arrows and fifty swords. That was all he managed to collect after the war sixteen years ago. Tyrion had shown more promise in Queen Sansa's reply though since Lord Gendry affirmed on his letter that some of the weapons were given to him by the Queen in the North. But Tyrion was greatly disappointed. The remaining raw obsidian that was left in her possession was melted in to a great bonfire years ago and the ones intact and in good condition were the ones she had given to Lord Gendry.
Foolishness and madness. Sansa must have burned the dragonglass to show her hatred towards the Dragon Queen or her superiority or maybe to show her independence, Tyrion would never know and he wouldn't bother to know. Regardless, it was madness what she did and such a waste. For Sansa's part, she was doing her best to unearth the said molten dragonglass beneath a pile of snow. But it does not matter if she managed to find the glass or not, they were still as good as dead if they did not managed to mine the dragonglass at Dragonstone. And the King could have warned him about the stupidity his sister had done if only he looked into the past. Tyrion's hopes wouldn't be so crushed now if only the King was helpful enough.
The King proved to be uncaring as well by the fact that the Red Keep cannot possibly house all the Lords of Westeros. Tyrion proposed that they held the Great Council in Harrenhal since it was vacant as of the moment--the King kept it at that, despite Lord Tully's arguments, since the castle would be reward for the assassination of the Princess years and years ago--and it was easily the biggest castle in the seven kingdoms. The King proved to be quite willful. He insisted that he will not leave the Red Keep and he, Tyrion, should make do with the situation.
Tyrion sighed and organized the parchments on his desk. He so wanted to scatter those pieces off his sight. He was not only losing his temper, he was losing his patience as well. Hand of the King he might be, but it felt like he had to shoulder all the burden of the realm alone while his King had his eyes rolled up, looking at the past or whatever it was that Tyrion knew was not relevant to their problems at all. If these continues he feared he would lose a few feet more from the sheer weight thrown upon him.
He can only imagine; over a hundred major Lords and two hundred of their vassals, the knights and soldiers of those Lords would come as well, no doubt in that. Over a thousand would come, how in the seven hells would they manage to accommodate such a huge population in the Red Keep much less in King's Landing alone? Tyrion had suggested a minor solution in that, no thanks to the King nor his other council members who proved to be as useful as broken goblets. The Great Council would only consist of the major Lords while the vassals were "tasked" to protect the lands in the absence of their liege Lords. It was the major Lords that needed convincing after all. The vassals would follow after them. The number of the knights would be regulated as well, twenty soldiers or knights per Lord. But still, they wouldn't manage to accommodate all inside the Red Keep.
Thank the gods for Bronn who proposed that the soldiers would be sleeping on inns or erect a tent at the castle grounds if need be much like when the crown was holding a tourney on the King's name day. And it would bring gold to the capital as well, making the gold they just spent on the soldiers of Dragonstone's family return to the crown's treasury. That was two of their problems, solved.
Tyrion looked outside once more, the sun had set and darkness were upon the realm. Tyrion wished he hadn't noticed it, but that was the disadvantages of a sharp mind.
Winter is coming.
In that, the Starks were always right.
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It has been far too many years since she had been at this place. The stumps were still standing, it seems. They were the only reminder of what once a holy place for the children of the forest.
She looked around at the leveled ground. She felt nostalgic just looking at it.
It felt like they were sitting there in front of her, forming a circle around a campfire. There was Anguy, and Hot Pie, and Ned, the Lord Dayne as he was called now. Lem was there as well with his piss-yellow cloak, Thoros of Myr beside him sipping on his wineskin and Tom Sevenstream plucking at his lute and singing for the small ancient woman with red eyes. And Gendry, the new Lord of Storm's End.
Gendry.
She does not know why she was here at all. It was far too near Riverrun, the place she was supposed to go to be with her family only for them to be slaughtered...butchered at the Twins. Does she still regret it? Not dying beside her brother and mother? Not being with them when they draw their last breaths? Probably.
She looked once more on her surroundings. She remembered staying here twice as a child, with the Brotherhood. The first they camped overnight, they were looking for Beric if she remembered.
Arya closed her eyes remembering the death of the man in Winterfell. She opened it and looked at the floor she sat once when she was a child. And the one where Beric sat on when he was with them on their second stay at the place.
Since Daenerys decided to spare her life, she had never left Westeros. Essos was forbidden anyway and she must admit, she cannot bare to look at the innocent eyes of her niece without feeling the guilt weighing her down.
Little Missandei, Jon's daughter whom she was helpless to shield against her siblings' knives. But she had rectified that. She saved her. But it was not enough.
Arya had been travelling around the seven kingdoms for almost eleven years now. Unsure of what to do with herself. But everytime she happened to pass a place she spent as a girl, she would stay there and reminisced of a long, forgotten past.
There was the Ruby ford where she threw Joffrey's sword. The Darry holdfast where she stand in front of the former King, the one who was friend to her father. The forest where she hid when the Lannister men came looking for her and Nymeria. The woods where Yoren and the other brothers of the Night's Watch and her once camped. The old keep where Yoren and the rest died, and where she freed the man named Jaqen H'ghar. The cave of the Brotherhood without Banners. Harrenhal where she noticed all the horrors men can inflict upon his own kin. The hills near the Vale where the Hound fought with Brienne of Tarth, the same place where she left the man to die. The Frey towers, where she avenged the death of her mother and brother.
And Hot Pie. Thank the gods for Hot Pie. Every now and then Arya would visit him in the small inn he now owned with his wife and children. There was Arry who was a girl of seven and the boys, Lommy and Gendry, five, they were twins and as pudgy as their father. Sometimes she would teach them swordfighting using broomsticks and branches. Then she would go once more to her endless travels with her bag full of bread all made to look like direwolves.
There are other times she would wonder around the Riverlands, just listening to the howling of the wolves thinking that her old friend might be near. But she never came out. Sometimes she would visit Jon, but she would not last for a day in his company. She would have only look at the sad, dead eyes of her brother and it would make her leave knowing she played a part on the pains her brother was enduring. For years she blamed Daenerys for Jon's pains, she still blamed her. She would always blame her. But not so much that she wanted to kill her for she knew now she was but a victim as well.
Arya would leave Jon then, to his people and only visit him once a year. Until then she would come back to her usual wanderings and her reminiscing.
That was her only use it seems, to remember things that happened.
The hill of High Heart was one of the three places she was trying to avoid over the years. The Crownlands were the first on her list then Winterfell. The last two she tried to avoid for not wanting herself to truly hate her siblings for what they did, but this place? She tried to steer clear off out of fear.
"Took you long enough to come back here, girl who reek of death," said the voice behind her.
Arya turned around fast and pulled her dagger from her waist.
The old woman walked past her--not in the slightest bothered by the bare Valyrian steel--and sat on a rock beside a great white stump of what once a weirwood tree. Her gnarled hand rested at the tree stump as if petting it. She put across her knee the crooked cane she always carry. She looked the same as Arya remembered. Small, with white hair reaching to the ground, eyes red and old. Ancient as the tree around them.
She must commend the old woman. Very few people can hide their presence to her and made her jump.
"I can't believe you're still alive," Arya said putting the dagger back to its scabbard.
Arya noticed the old woman's disturbing red eyes following the dagger. Arya sat on the ground right in front of the Ghost of High Heart.
"You knew I would come back?" she asked after a long silence.
The old woman just nodded.
"Do you want to hear the future?" The old woman said with a grin that made Arya shiver.
Arya scrunched her nose.
"I can't sing."
She vaguely remembered Tom singing Jenny of Oldstones. It was the Ghost's favorite as she recalled.
The old woman only grinned wider.
"I know you don't, but this one will be free..." the Ghost said brushing her hands on the top of the stump. "...if you gave me the dagger."
Arya was always unsettled by the Ghost, she remembered being afraid of her as a girl, she was not glad to know that after all she had been through she still is.
"I'd rather let the future be, I want surprises after all." Arya stood up, preparing to leave.
"The Raven made a mistake, death girl."
She looked at the old woman who was shaking her head repeatedly in what seems to be in disappointment.
"Dragon's blood had been offered to the old gods. The blood of fire to ask for early summer. He did not know what he did, he cursed the land by shedding the blood of the Red God's champion."
Arya looked at the Ghost who stopped moving her head and looked at her in the eyes.
"You played a part too, didn't you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," Arya replied coldly.
"You could have stopped him. You could have stopped all of it."
Arya was about to open her mouth and retort once more then she remembered. Daenerys. It always comes back to Daenerys. And Jon. She could have stopped him with the right words.
What's my father like?
Missandei's foolish but adorable grin flashed in her mind.
Arya looked back at the old woman who was staring back at her deeply. She was about to say something when she heard a familiar caw. She looked up and a raven with a scroll on its feet landed on a stump beside her. She went to the raven and took the scroll, as she did the raven flew away. The scroll had a seal of wax, the direwolf of House Stark. Sansa or Bran?
Dark wings, dark words.
She broke the seal with trembling hands and read its contents.
'Greetings, Lady Arya of House Stark
King Bran of House Stark, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Six Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, would like to inform you that you must ride with haste to King's Landing to attend the Great Council that would begin two moons from now. A great storm was stirring once more at the Land of Always Winter. Your presence would be expected.'
Arya read it once more. The letter was short but it took her a long while to understand what was written. A great storm...
"No, the Night King is dead..."
I killed him, with this dagger. She would like to add. She read it once more then she felt the dread of what this must mean. Her other siblings were in the North. The other, the brother she loved was beyond the wall, nearer to the threat.
Jon.
She tried to swallow her dread but there was a huge lump on her throat. Fear.
"You killed one man that was turned by the guardians of the forest, but not the Great Other's children. You helped him prepare this battle, death girl."
The Ghost said with a mocking smirk on her lips.
"Your Raven King made a gamble. One cannot choose between ice and fire. There must be a balance. He chooses to destroy it. And risked the life of the Red God's lover," the Ghost mumbled to herself.
Arya did not understand the gist of what the old woman was saying. But she does remember someone mentioning a Red God and a lover.
Yes. Asshai.
"He asked for this. Now the realm must pay with him."
The Ghost turned to her then, staring at Arya's gray eyes deeply. Arya stepped back at what she saw in the old woman's red eyes. It was wide with fear and something dangerous she cannot explain that made her reach for Needle.
The Ghost bowed her white head then jumped down from her stone and started to walk away. Her small form disappearing in the shadows.
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It felt great flying up in the sky but it always made her wonder. What does the other Targaryen ancestors do to recreate this feeling of...exhilaration when they lost their dragons? Was that the reason why most of them turned mad? A Targaryen was born to fly, her mother used to say when she was a child. We are dragons and fire is in our blood.
Missandei touched the sides of her sister, Nissa Nissa. Her smooth blue scales shined and glittered in the sunlight. Of all her mother's children, her Nissa Nissa was the most beautiful and graceful. She was the smallest, the runt of the litter but she was unique. Special.
This one is for you, my small dragon. The boy's gentle voice entered her thoughts once more.
He was no older than her, she remembered, but he was already speaking fluently that greatly impressed the then four year-old her. The pretty boy took a small dragon egg out of the sack he was dragging then handed it to her. Missandei remembered how beautiful it was and how heavy despite its size. It was relatively smaller than her mother's other dragon eggs. The dragon egg she held was blue and white, like the color of the sky, and it glittered.
A small dragon for a small dragon. The boy smiled at her and then put the egg back to his sack.
She lied to her mother. She remembered some things on that day. She remembered following a boy with long white hair, so long it was that it drags at the bricked street of Meereen like the long, white, silk cloth of the seamstress who came to take her and her mother's measurements. He was the one who gave her the three dragon eggs that was now Willem, Neferion and Nissa Nissa. But it was their secret, the boy and her. Their bond, exclusive only for the both of them. Her mother wasn't allowed to know.
Nissa Nissa's soft purr beneath her distracted her from the memory of the past.
Missandei looked from her sides and watched her dragon's wings flapped, brushing away some clouds on its wake. Nissa Nissa's wingspan are bigger than a normal dragon of her size. It was almost as huge as Drogon, which was unusual because her body was much too small for such enormous wings. But that only made Nissa Nissa the greatest flier amongst their siblings. Even Drogon cannot compete with her sister even if she had their mother riding him.
She leaned her body forward and it was as if Nissa Nissa can hear her thoughts, she flew up, faster than a normal dragon. Missandei laughed as her sister treat her with a spiral in the air as they flew higher and higher until they stopped and Missandei was breathless from her incessant laughing. They were so high now that she knew that they would look like nothing but a small dot in the sky to a man below, but that was if he can stare directly to the sun like her mother.
Missandei looked down and marveled by how small and irrelevant the islands were on her seat. There was Dragonstone on her right, guarded by Willem who refused to fly with them and decided to hunt for whales instead. And at her far left, although she can only see the shadow of it...Westeros.
King's Landing. She only stayed there for few hours when they give the bodies back and it was not the way she expects it to look. Or smell.
Missandei takes a deep breath savoring the clean air. That unhygienic city was the place where it all ended for her mother. Or should she say, where it all began?
Not for the first time she wondered. What would become of them if her father...the man named Jon Snow did not stab her mother? If he had loved her the way she was supposed to be loved?
If he only didn't believe the lies of his dwarf friend and came to them instead, Missandei knows deep in her heart her mother would have forgiven him, because she would make her do so. But that was before. Before everything. Before all the words she heard.
Missandei caught herself and felt disgusted by her thoughts. She pushed her doubts away and the foolish dreams of a perfectly happy family from her mind before it soured her good mood.
She looked around her and distracted herself by remembering what she was thinking before she interrupted herself with such rude thoughts.
Ah, yes.
How she felt so powerful and omniscient as she continued to look at the wide blue expanse of both the sea and the sky.
She breathed in deep the smell of the clouds once more.
When she was small--too small to be allowed to fly atop Drogon or to fly with her wings--her mother would tell her the sensation of flying. The scenery, the feeling of the wind on her face and the smell. She would always laugh whenever her mother told her that clouds indeed had a distinctive scent. She would ask if they smelled sweet like candied fruits or like cakes or if they smelled sour like lime. Her mother would laugh with her and tickle her stomach relentlessly until she forgot what she was asking in the first place. She never got the answer to that question, probably because even the eloquent Daenerys Targaryen cannot explain the scent of the mesmerizing clouds in the sky. Neither can she, for that matter and she had been flying since she was five or six.
Gods, I missed her. Missandei bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling.
You would be six and ten soon. Stop acting like you're six. She scolded herself.
But she can't help herself from being emotional. It was the longest time and the farthest she was away from her mother. Well, except that one time when she was five? Or six? She believes she was gone for almost a month.
Missandei tried to brush that traumatic experience off of her mind and instead focused on the days she was conquering the Free Cities.
She remembered her mother was always a few flights away from her on those times and that she would always reunite with her after a few days or so. But now was different. Sure, she had seen her mother on the flames riding the fastest ship she had, accompanied with five other ships with her soldiers in it (the entirety of their army was left in Meereen to keep the peace with Irrina, Aeryk, Aegor and Neferion). Drogon and Rhaeko, the baby dragons and the two remaining dragon eggs were with her mother too. Her mother was near at their meet up point now but Missandei still can't help but long for her.
Nissa Nissa made a sad sound. She must have felt Missandei's emotions. Missandei sniffed and patted the sides of her sister. She tried her best to keep her emotions uplifted.
We would see Mother soon, one more week and we would fly to meet her near Tyrosh then we would sail together. She tried to convey to her sister to placate her. Then they can decide what they would do with Westeros afterwards.
If Mother wanted it, then she shall have it. After all, she had made a careful but effective plan to make that come true. She did not stay in King's Landing for nothing.
Missandei and Nissa Nissa flew for a while longer above the clouds before Missandei wished to go lower which Nissa Nissa swiftly obeyed. As they were flying amongst the clouds Missandei noticed a lone ship. It seems to be a long ship of an Ironborn. Her flame watching seems to be getting better by the day. Kinvara would be pleased. Oh, she cannot wait to reunite with the priestess as well. She had a lot of fun things to share with her. Especially her visit on King's Landing, no doubt her Kinvara would be amused.
But focusing on the matter at hand, she looked down once more. Following the slow movement of the small ship below.
Her mother had told her lots of stories about the men of the Iron Islands and how they were similar to their Dothraki. They followed the strong and resented the weak, they both consider the sea their home, although both of them had opposite definitions of what a sea was. The Dothraki had their horses for their Great Grass Sea while the Ironborn had their ships.
Missandei smiled. Her mother had given her specific orders before she left Meereen to make friends with her former allies if they happened to come to her. And if the flames this morning was right, the former Queen of the Iron Islands was riding that ship.
Missandei stopped Nissa Nissa's descent so as to not startle the sailors below of their presence. She learned years ago that dragons flying too low in the sky often scares people and tend to make arrows rain upon them. She wouldn't want to be peppered by projectiles early in the day even if she was wearing her Valyrian steel armor. It was particularly vexing, hearing the sound of breaking steel when it made contact to her breastplate.
Such a great waste of good metal.
She squinted her eyes to see better the sigil on the sails of the ship, it wouldn't do good if she greeted the wrong ship. Black were the sails and gold was drawn on the center of it. It resembled a squid. She felt her stomach grumbled as she thought of how she would cook that particular seafood. Would she cut it and make a stew? Or would she grilled it and stuffed it with herbs inside? Gods, she was starving. She hoped the Ironborn had some food with them since she just missed her lunch for waiting for them.
She whispered a command to her dragon to stay above the clouds as she would be greeting the sailors below. Missandei closed her eyes and then let herself slip sideways from her dragon's back. She was falling headfirst, then Missandei opened her folded wings.
Missandei's wings resembled that of a dragon's. It was leathery and strong and it can carry her just fine. It was approximately six feet in length and wide enough that when it was folded it can cover her body like a cloak. It has the color of black, red and gold, so was the scales in her back.
Her wings, though her burden, was also her pride and joy. Nothing can beat the sensation of flying beside a dragon and playing with them as opposed of just sitting on their back. It made her feel like she was one of them, like she belonged.
She felt her opened wings caught the wind like sails of a ship. Her descent had slowed down. She opened her eyes and glided in the sky before flapping her wings to control where she would land. It wouldn't do to land in the deck where brawny men were working with the ropes. She can easily ward them off with her ancient short-sword and knifes if she wanted, but she felt it was far too early for a bloodshed. Besides, that would defy her mother's orders to make friends. And the Ironborn were most likely not to share their food if they were dead and it would bring ill-luck to steal food from the deceased.
She decided to land at the beam of the huge sail instead. Right below a sickly looking scrawny boy--who seems to be more likely to vomit on her than to stab her--who was sitting atop the mast. The sound of her wings had alerted the boy and his mouth hang opened as he watched her fly lower.
Missandei smiled in what she hoped is a reassuring one and landed right below him.
"Hullo--Oh!"
The boy with his eyes wide, started standing up but since the top of the mast was not as spacious for such rash movements, the moment he stood up, his feet missed. The boy started to lose his balance then fall with his arms flailing in the air. Fortunately for him Missandei's reflexes was fast. She managed to dive in time and grab the boy by his flailing arms.
"Oof, heavy..." Missandei grunted.
She was not used to carrying people around with her wings and she was not amused by the experience at all. Her wings can barely lift them up, it was only by her sheer will and stubbornness that kept them from crushing down.
She had no choice but to fly down now. That or let the boy go, let him deal with a broken leg or an arm maybe. It won't kill him. But she decided not to. She was, after all, the reason why he fell on the first place. It won't do with her conscience if something bad happened to him now.
She breathed a sigh of relieve as she discarded her heavy cargo on the deck of the ship.
The boy, seemingly weakened by the experience, kneeled and looked up at her with his eyes and mouth opened wide.
"I mean no harm," Missandei started slowly, trying to calm the boy who was now starting to gasped for air fast as if he was having trouble breathing.
But the boy clearly was on a state of panic for the moment Missandei folded her aching wings behind her back the boy started screaming while pointing at her.
"Shh! Shh!" Missandei tried to quiet the boy down but she was too late.
And besides she landed on the most crowded place on the deck and she knew the only reason the men did not tried to kill her already was because of their surprise over seeing a fully armored girl that came from above.
"Monster!"
She heard someone scream behind her. She rolled her eyes and face the men who was now preparing to murder her, their swords bare on their hands, some even had arrows knocked at their bows.
Missandei sighed. Yes, my usual effect towards men.
She raised her hands and smiled as sweetly as she can.
"Not a monster, my Lord, but a messenger of Queen Daenerys Stormborn."
Xxxxxxxxxxx
Yara was at her cabin below looking at the map on the table.
Dragonstone.
One of her captain had said he saw not only one, but two dragons flying around the Targaryen seat. Not only that, hundreds of ships were docked at the beach of the old seat of the Dragon Kings. All of them had their sails painted in black and red.
The Dragon Queen was back and she would like to see it for herself.
Yara rolled up the map and sat back to her chair. She remembered the day the world had known that Daenerys Stormborn was alive. A miracle.
What is dead may never die but rises again harder and stronger.
She had chosen the right queen, she knew. She heard years ago of how the Dragon Queen had taken Dragon's Bay once more and the Dothraki horde fighting for her again, screaming her name as they strike the slavers' head off their bodies.
Yara grinned. Even the daughter was a conqueror as well. The Free Cities bowed before them almost effortlessly. The Mother of Dragons and her winged child. Or so the rumors say, at least.
She awaited for her Queen to come back to Westeros, to make herself be of use once more to the Mother of Dragons. She awaited for a message, a sign, but none came. She did not want to send a message herself for the fear of being executed for treason. She knew she was being closely watched and all the Dragon Queen's former allies by the Braavosi's spies. One move and their heads would roll to the ground like pebbles. Especially with whatever sorcery the Broken King was using, none of them were safe.
Then her Queen finally made a move.
Yara almost laughed loudly remembering the three years of starvation Daenerys had brought to the realm. Well, her people did not starved, her Queen remembered her still and her allies.
On the first year of the Queen's decree of shutting Essos's ports to Westeros one of her captain met some pirates on the sea. They took all of their hauls for the day and every valuable they could find. The unusual part was the pirates did not hurt any of the crew, they intimidated the fools by pointing arrows and showing off their numbers and the cravens surrenderd without a fight.
Yara almost spat at that memory. It still gave her satisfaction remembering the crunch the captain's nose made when she punched it. They were the ones who take! They were Ironborn! They paid the iron price! She shouted in her mind.
Yara does not know what was more humiliating: their things being stolen by pirates or her men surrendering their haul without a fight.
She then took her best ship and her most ruthless men and chased the pirates until they reached an inhabited island near Naath. There the truth was finally revealed. What was waiting for them at the beach was provisions she knew that would last for a year or more. She didn't get the stolen things from the ship back but it was a small compensation from what she got in return. There it was, a message from her Queen in a form of a letter: I did not forget.
Ten years had passed since that day and her Queen's wrath only lasted for three years but Daenerys still had not forgotten her and Dorne as well. Even now, their ports were one of the few that the Queen allowed for her merchants to trade with. By doing so, the Iron Islands became valuable to the crippled Usurper. They would have starved if Yara had not opened her ports to the merchants of King's Landing and Lannisport. Dorne did the same as well, now they were getting richer and richer for some merchants feared to venture beyond the Narrow Sea for the fear of "pirates" and traded with them instead.
The Dragon Queen might have given orders to stop their ravings but she had given them something in return.
Yara scoffed in amusement as she unsheathed her knife and twirled it in her hands. Daenerys had grown more clever by the day. She did not only cut down the numbers of Westerosi merchants and potential spies at her ports, she also made sure her allies remained loyal to her by making them rich.
And now a test of some kind was brought upon them.
If the rumors were true, Dragonstone flies once more the banner bearing the Three-Headed dragon of House Targaryen. Her Queen had made her greatest move yet against Westeros. Will her allies come to her aid if needed? Will she take the Seven Kingdoms afterwards?
Whatever the reason of taking Dragonstone back, Yara would still follow Daenerys, the Queen among Queens. The dead who lived and now harder and stronger than she ever was.
And some say even more beautiful.
Gods be damned, she wanted to see her personally, just to speak to her and to see if the rumors were true about her...newly found beauty. But Yara knew she can't. She needed to be careful. She was of no use to the Dragon Queen dead.
She does not know how the King's sorcery works but it was said he can see the present, the past and even the future. Even by some miracle she managed to evade the Cripple's sight and reached Mereen like she wanted to for so long, she knew the spies would report it back to the Braavosi and the king's pet dwarf. She needed to be careful, even now, she needed to make sure that their routes were different from the one they usually take when they sail near Dragonstone, to make it look like they were but sailing towards Tyrosh or any of the Free Cities to trade.
She only wanted a glimpse, that's all. Just a sign that the Dragon was indeed back to its proper place.
Yara frowned as she heard some commotion outside her cabin. Someone was running and in haste, then a loud knock at her door as if rushed made her stood up from her chair. She opened the door and it was Urel with his big face, pale as a porridge and eyes round with fear. He opened his mouth to say something but it was interrupted by the deafening sound of a flapping of wings and a screech so loud she felt her ears rang. The ship started to sway as well as if it was being ravaged by a huge wave.
Dragon.
She pushed Urel away and ran as fast as her body can despite the sway of the ship caused by the creature's flapping wings above them.
The dragon must have been huge. Was it the black and red one of her Queen? Or one of the new dragons Yara heard her Queen now had?
She awaited for a horn to sound but none came. That boy!
She had ordered for the boy to look for dragons and warn them. He had one job.
Unless he was eaten?
When she reached the deck the creature was already flying away, but Yara saw clearly what it was. It was really a dragon. A different one from her Queen's, far more beautiful and smaller. But its wings, its huge.
Yara watched the dragon fly away, its blue and white scales seems to be glittering against the sun's glare. The dragon fly higher and higher and hide itself in the clouds.
"Who among you is the captain?" A sweet voice said.
Yara felt her neck snapped by the fast motion she did when she leveled her stare, looking for the owner of the voice.
Yara was familiar with that voice. She walked forward and the crew parted as she did, showing the one who asked for her.
It was a small girl by the looks of her. She was wearing the most terrifyingly beautiful armor she had ever seen. From the breastplate to the clawed tips of her sabatons, to her gauntlets. Even her cloak were fashioned to make the girl resemble a dragon. Yara looked at the face of the girl but she can't see much for she was wearing a helm shaped to be a dragon's head.
"M'lady...s-she came down from above and she--" One of her crew whispered at her with trembling voice.
"She, has a name," the girl said and smiled at them.
Yara was surprised.
The girl was a bit far and she knew no one would have heard what was whispered to her in that distance. Yara watched as the armored girl sat on a barrel and played with her long, tightly braided silver hair.
"I am the captain," Yara said moving forward. "And who might you be?"
The girl stood up and walked. The boy whom she ordered to be looking out for dragons was now cowering behind a barrel, shuffling farther away from the girl.
Atleast he was not eaten.
The dragon girl stopped walking and stood a few feet away from her and her men.
"Ah, I thought it was pretty obvious who I am Queen Yara. You are Yara right?" The girl tilted her head and by doing so made her helm catch light.
Valyrian steel. The girl was wearing valyrian steel from the tip of the horns of her helm right to the sharp talons of her sabatons. The armor was dyed black and red but the ripples still showed and almost blinded her when the sunlight touched the girl's body. Even the girl's skin was glowing as if sunlight runs beneath it.
"Ah! I must have forgotten."
The girl lifted her hands and touched her head seemingly realizing only then that she was wearing a helm. The girl took it off then gave her a very beautiful smile, showing off her perfect white teeth.
Yara knew that face well. That ethereal beauty, that smile.
"Valyrian steel, so light I didn't even know I was wearing one," the Queen chuckled and then shakes her head.
Yara kneeled. The men knelt as well, a little reluctant.
"My Queen--"
"Queen?" Daenerys asked almost shouting, then she scoffed in annoyance.
Yara bowed her head lower, fearing that she had offended the Dragon Queen.
"I apologize my Queen, you may not have taken back Westeros but--"
"But I'm not the Queen, Yara...can I call you Yara?"
Yara lifted her head then stood up from where she knelt, the men followed her. She felt them looking back and forth from her and the woman in front of them, confused.
"I'm not the Queen. Well, not atleast for years and years yet, that's for sure." The Queen who was not, shrugged her shoulders and smiled at her once more.
She looked intently at the girl in front of her. She surely had the Queen's face but she seemed younger and...warmer. She was grinning mischievously at them, Daenerys wouldn't smile like that. Every smile Daenerys showed was calculated, part of a plan to derail an enemy or charm an ally. The Dragon Queen was not...carefree as this girl was showing to be.
The grin from the girl's face made Yara sure the girl was enjoying the mistake Yara had made.
As Yara looked at the girl longer she finally noticed the difference. The girl's smiling eyes were...unusual. Yara cannot discern the color of it but she was sure it was not the dark purple color she remembered the Queen had. Even the long braided hair were off. Dark silver like ashes and not the silver-blonde of the Targaryen Queen.
Yara frowned and then she realized who was standing in front of her.
"The winged child," she muttered. Shocked to see that the rumor was not a rumor after all.
The girl just smiled at her, then as if to prove identity, the Princess opened the huge cloak on her back and curtsy at them. The cloak behind the girl was not a cloak, it was wings.
She heard gasps and some of her men gripped their swords tightly, preparing for a fight. Yara stepped back and instinctively gripped the knife that was still on her hands tightly. She was stunned and if she was completely honest, afraid.
"Missandei Fyre, natural daughter of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen. My enemies call me the Gargoyle and some fanatical priests and mages calls me the Bringer of Light or whatever it was in the common tongue anyway. But, you can call me Missandei."
Yara watched as Missandei folded her wings once more on her back.
They were all too shocked to make a move or utter a word. Yara had seen plenty of unusual things, but this? A winged girl, wearing valyrian steel--the most rarest of all items in the known world--was something she did not expect when she came looking for her Queen.
The Princess's smile faltered as the silence stretched further.
"And the one who rudely interrupted us from a fight was my sister, Nissa Nissa." She said to the men apologetically but also to break the uncomfortable silence.
"We should talk," Yara said, finally finding her voice.
"Oh, yes," Missandei nodded vigorously then walked towards her, her sabatons making clinking sounds when it made contact to the wood of the deck. "We should eat as well, I'm famished. Do you have squids?"
Note:
So so so, sorry for my late update. I was busy getting a job. I just graduated from college and all and I badly needed to be employed to pay the rent...so...*shrugs*. While I was waiting for the calls, I tried my best to write. So here it is. Not my best...a little bit confusing but you'll know more on the next chapter's ahead.
Btw. I was a little reluctant on including Arya's POV in this chapter coz it might confuse some of you. But then I remembered, it's my fic I can do anything with it. Screw the doubts and hesitation.
Arya's POV was based in the books. So, sorry if some of you are confused since the Ghost of High Heart was not included in the show. I'm a little nostalgic writing Arya, remembering her adventures and hardships.
I know Arya's POV had some confusing parts other than the Ghost. But I promised all will come to light later in the chapters. *Now you know why I'm reluctant on including this*
Arya and Missandei met? Wait for the next chapters. Just saying there was this theory that the world of ice and fire was round, just like ours. In the Fire and Blood book there was an Elissa Farman who travelled west of Westeros, just like Arya. Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake saw what was left of Eilssa's ship docked in Asshai. So it was more likely Arya managed to do the same and end up in Asshai. We will see more about Arya's time in Essos maybe three or five chapters after this and her confrontation with Bran and Sansa.