Mhysa

Winterfell

The first thing that Bran heard was the sound of leaves crunching beneath his feet. He walked through the Winterfell courtyards, as a light snow fell. Above the courtyard, he saw his father, and his mother. They were watching from above. Beyond them, the sky was a deep blue, as blue as his mother's eyes. Bran thought, they were the blue of Tully eyes, just like Sansa's. He didn't have the Tully eyes; he had his father's grey eyes; the furtive grey eyes of the Quiet Wolf, like the sky after a storm. Sansa and Robb always had the Tully look-The look of his Lady mother. His mother . There she was above him now laughing, and talking. Her hand was placed gently on his father's chest, as if to steady herself, as if she were laughing so heartily that she might fall over if she did not hold on to him for balance. They always shared small moments like that.

She began walking now, and Bran followed her. She was walking back to the castle. Every now and again she would idly pat her stomach. As Bran walked through the corridors of Winterfell he noticed that he didn't see any children wandering about. His mother looked so young. She was walking now into the large rooms that she shared with his Lord father. She smoothed her skirts, and sat down on a richly embroidered chair, plump with goosefeathers. She pulled out a piece of her knitting, and began to work on something that looked a lot like hat for a baby. Was she with child? A young boy, no more than three, ran into the room, he had thick reddish brown hair, and he came toddling towards his mother, tugging at her skirts . "Robb!" She said, and she put down her knitting. She scooped him up into her arms, kissing his fat, pink cheeks. "Where is your nurse?" She said in a sing-song voice. " Roslyn ," she called out, "Come and get Robb, he seems to have escaped you." She kissed him again, smoothing out his hair. A young woman with dark hair, and a plain grey woolen dress appeared at the doorway.

"Pardon me m'lady, he's a quick one." She cuddled Robb up into her arms, gently, and took him down the corridor. Bran watched his mother still, as she sat there in her rooms alone. She rubbed her stomach idly, and for a moment he thought that she looked at him, directly in his eyes, and her eyes made him think of Sansa. He could almost hear Sansa's voice.

"Bran!" There was a knock on the door. "Bran!" He could feel his mother's face slipping away from his vision. He would never see his mother again except in these visions. Bran sat up in bed. Sansa was banging hard on his bedroom door.

"Yes, what is it?" He replied, and his voice sounded foreign to him.

"There's been a raven. We have a raven from King's Landing."

"Yes," he called to her, "Sansa, open the door." She walked into his room, and took a seat at the corner of his bed, near his feet.

"What does it say?" He looked at her, waiting.

"The city is burning. Tyrion told me that I could trust her, but she burnt the city."

"Yes, what else?"

"What do you mean what else? Did you hear me? She burnt the city-to the ground-killed innocent people-and Tyrion told me to trust her-"

"Sansa...what else?" Bran stared at her, looking deep into her eyes, waiting for her to say it.

"Jon is King. He is setting up a ruling council…"

"And he has asked me to come to King's Landing."

"Yes," Sansa looked down at her hands now, turning the raven scroll between her fingertips. "He's asked for you."

"But there must always be a Stark in Winterfell…" He watched her face.

"Yes." She reached out her hand, and caressed his cheek. "Are you going to go?"

"I must."

"But do you want to?" She watched his face carefully.

"It doesn't matter what I want Sansa. You have to let me go. You have enough to think of now."

A blush colored Sansa's cheeks.

"Have you told Tyrion?" Bran waited for her answer.

"No. He doesn't know. I've only just found out...Maester Wolkan tells me it's still early yet."

"Don't worry Sansa. I hate it when you worry." She grabbed Bran and hugged him hard. He wanted to hug her back, but he felt paralyzed by her show of emotion, so he just surrendered himself to her embrace.

"Send me Maester Wolkan. I need to send Jon a reply."

Dragonstone

Viserys stood frozen in a scream, molten gold streamed down his face, coating and cauterizing the skin as it went, running into his mouth, molding itself to his head. He fell to the ground with a heavy thud. Her brother. Her protector . But he was no such thing. He died. He died with a scream frozen in his throat. He threatened to harm her child, to cut it from her stomach. He was a fool. He was cruel. He was no dragon. Fire cannot burn a dragon. How she had feared him. But he was nothing. Daenerys watched as he fell to the ground, a joke of a man, a mummer's dragon, and knew then that she would rule. Her moon and stars had given Viserys the only crown he was fit to wear, and he had earned it.

The dragon has three heads.

He was no dragon.

She stood now in the temple of the Dosh Khaleen. She was surrounded by her people, the people she would one day come to rule. Her hands and arms were covered in a thick, dark sheen of horse blood. She could still taste the metallic tang of blood in her mouth. She could still feel it in her belly. Her son. She would have a son. She had eaten the horse heart. A promise had been given. Now it would be fulfilled. The dragon was inside her. This time, no witch would take away what was hers. No one would. She had paid the price. A life for a life. Only death can pay for life . She had paid.

She had fallen. That is the one thing that Daenerys was sure of. She had fallen. She had fallen and he had caught her. He would always catch her. Jon Snow. He loved her. She loved him. They would rule together. She saw the right of it now. They could rule together. She did not know how long she had been asleep. She looked around the room now, and saw that there was a chair facing her bed. No one sat there now. But someone had been there. She had felt their presence. There was still an indentation in the pillow that sat atop the chair. Maybe they had not been gone for long. She tried to move. Her body felt weak. When was the last time she had eaten? She wondered. She tried to move her legs and saw only a slight ripple in the bedclothes. She wanted to cry out, but her mouth felt so dry. What would she even say?

"Missandei! Missandei!" She screamed.

She could hear a small chorus of feet running towards her door. The door opened, and in walked Missandei of Naath, Jon, and Tyrion.

"Your grace," Missandei said, "you have to rest. Don't strain yourself." She stepped back and leaned against the wall, as if for support. Grey Worm soon appeared in the doorway. He smiled as he saw that Daenerys was awake.

Jon stood still, his eyes wet, and he watched her, his eyes never leaving her face.

Tyrion stood before her, his eyes surveying her, "How do you feel?" He asked.

"Weak, and...hungry." She said.

"Well, you've been asleep for about a week. All you've had in that time is honey and water. You may want to start with something simple to eat."

She watched as he called for a servant, and when the servant arrived, Tyrion ordered them to bring her bread, and wine.

He took a seat on the chair that sat before her, and Jon walked over to the bed, and sat next to her, placing his hand on her leg. He looked into her eyes and inhaled deeply. "Dany," "what do you remember?"

"I fell." She said. "I fell off of Drogon's back, and I woke up here."

Jon rubbed her leg, idly, as he spoke, "What do you remember before that?"

"We were outside the city gates," she said, "I saw the Red Keep, and I urged Drogon on towards it. The Lannister soldiers fired arrows at us, and the Scorpion almost clipped Drogon's right wing. I was able to evade the Scorpion and I remember feeling the rage as I looked at the Red Keep. I flew towards the Red Keep, where Cersei slept. I wanted to be rid of her forever."

"Do you remember anything else?" Jon asked.

The servant appeared with a platter of bread, and a flagon of wine. Tyrion waved them towards the table that sat to the left of her bed.

"Yes, thank you, Lyara. That will be all." He said to her.

"Your grace, I don't want to alarm you, as you are still weakened, but once you have eaten, we need to discuss what exactly you remember about the battle in King's Landing." Tyrion said, his brows furrowed.

Burn them all. Daenerys heard a whisper, almost like the voice of a shadow. Burn….them...all. She looked into the darkness for phantoms, but she saw none. She saw only the worried faces of her advisers and friends.

Burn.

Them.

All.

The voice whispered in her ear. She closed her eyes, and she could feel herself falling back into a cloud of smoke. She felt the heat of fire against the side of her face, and felt the heat of Drogon, like living breathing flame, beneath her.

Burn.

Them.

All.

She was flying through the clouds, her black wings cutting through the wind like a knife through butter, and the cool air whipping around her. She was a dragon. Fire cannot kill a dragon . Beneath her a sea of flesh wailed and cried, hands outstretched and covered in blood and ash. She was saving them. She saved them from themselves. She kissed them with flames. She kissed them and they were reborn in the service of the realm. She watched as they danced in the flames, spinning, flickering and warming her face like kindling. They held out their flaming hands to her, a mass of flaming hands, and shouted with one voice "Mhysa! Mhysa!"