Jon
Jon was glad to change the hot climate of Qohor to the pleasant climate of Braavos. When he first came to Braavos he hated the constant rain and fog, but now he felt savoured the cool breeze coming from the sea. The campaign to Qohor had taken him much longer than anticipated and he hoped that Dany will not be too angry with him.
Braavos was still the same busy place, but Tito admired everything with awe and wonder. His friend's mouth stood open as he saw the numerous canals snaking their way through the city. The inhabitants intrigued Tito even more and once he mistook one of the fabulously dressed Braavosi men for a whore.
Arriving at Ragman's Port Tito wrinkled his nose.
"What is this smell?" his friend asked as they passed a peddler selling salted herring to a Seawife perched in one of her beautifully-decorated ships. The woman was a great beauty, graced with black hair and jade eyes.
Jon felt almost embarrassed by the way Tito stared at her. He looked as if he had never seen a woman before.
"Don't stare!" he chided his friend and pulled on his arm, leading his friend along the cobbled street toward Mella's home. It was not hard to miss the building. Not long ago Jon painted one of the doors in a bright crimson colour.
"Why?" Tito asked. "Where I come from women are flattered if you stare at them."
"This woman is no common woman," he explained. "She is a Seawife and belongs to the Sealord of Braavos. They cost a fortune."
Tito laughed and patted Jon's shoulder.
"Are you speaking out of experience, friend?" Tito asked, though Jon told him in great detail about Dany. "Is that the reason you joined the Second Sons? Did one of these Seawives take away your coin?"
"Believe me…I have no need of Seawives," he answered as they made their way up the steps leading to the entrance. Suddenly, Jon realized that it was barely midday. He doubted that Dany would be home at this time of the day.
Thus he wheeled around and pulled Tito up another staircase, decorated with several painted pots and flowers.
Jon didn't know why, but it felt as if something was amiss. Normally, Shala would come to greet him or Mella would dry the clothing on the roof. Yet neither Shala nor Mella could be seen.
Brushing those fearful thoughts away he knocked at the door. A moment passed, before the door finally opened. It was Mara, Mella's oldest daughter.
Instead of a smile he received a look of utter shock.
First the young woman gasped, then she clapped her hands together.
"Gods you frightened me," she whispered and squeezed his arm. Then she smiled. "We thought you dead."
Jon was stunned.
"What?" he asked, trying to hide his discomfort. "Why would you think that? Where is Dany?"
"She is not here…," Mara replied vaguely, her eyes coming to rest on Tito, who was trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible, though that was harder than expected. Graced with copper skin and garbed in his dark worn-out leather armour he stood out among the brightly-dressed Braavosi."Don't you want to introduce your companion?"
"Oh, yes. Forgive my negligence," Jon apologized quickly. "This is Tito…he hails from Lhazar. He is a friend."
"Well met," Mara replied and brushed her braid of red hair over her shoulder. Then she stepped aside as if to indicate for them to enter. "Come inside…I will explain what happened."
Jon frowned and stepped inside. Tito grinned at her, but his smile earned him no warm reply. Mara was always cold towards strangers, especially men.
She led them along a narrow corridor leading to the kitchen, where dough was placed on the wooden table. Jon looked around, searching Shala, who was usually responsible for this chore. She often brought them fresh bread, but she was nowhere to be seen.
"Do you want a cup of tea?" Mara asked him and then Tito."Tea…Do you know tea?"
Tito continued to grin.
"I like tea," Tito answered and Jon was surprised that the Sheepmen know tea, but then he hardly knew anything about them. Tito gave him only bits and pieces of information.
"Very well," she replied and started to heat the water while she explained Dany's absence. "As I told you…we thought you dead, because my Father heard about the defeat of the Second Sons. Many things happened during your absence. My mother and sister are dead."
Jon felt as if someone hit him and he had to balance himself on the table.
"How did it happen?" he asked and winced when he heard how raw his voice sounded. "And where is Dany? Please tell me!"
"Don't fret…Dany is well considering the circumstances," Mara assured him and handed the cup to Tito, who eyed the substance curiously and wrinkled his brows in confusion.
"It is hot," he stated matter-of-faculty.
"Of course it is hot," Mara answered and ruffled her hand through her loose strands of red hair. "It is tea…tea is hot."
"I know tea, but we don't drink it cooked," Tito explained and earned himself a look of disbelief from Mara.
"Fuck the tea!" Jon interrupted their silly conversation. "Where is Dany?
Mara gave him a surprised look and shook her head in understanding.
"She is at the Temple of Light," she finally gave him the piece of information he was longing for. "She is well, though I don't trust these priests."
"Temple of Light," he muttered and tried to make sense of Mara's words. "Why did she go there and where is Ghost? Did she take him to the Temple of Light?" And you have yet to answer my first question…What happened to your mother and sister?"
"Brutes entered our home and killed them…Dany helped me, though she was heavy with child. I brought her to the Temple of Light for protection and that is where she is now…with your child."
Jon stared at her with utter disbelief.
Tito laughed and patted his shoulder.
"Congratulations, my friend!"
Jon didn't even register Tito's words and continued to stare at Mara like a witless fool.
Finally, recognition showed on her face.
"So she didn't tell you?" the young woman asked, her brows wandering to the top of her head. "No wonder you are so surprised."
No, she didn't tell him and he understood why. He wanted to smack himself.
I am a fool. I shouldn't have harped on about the bastard thing again and again. She was probably afraid that I would be angry with her.
"Why didn't she return here?" he asked, still unable to understand why she chose to stay at the Temple of Light. "Was she afraid?"
Mara shook her head and took a sip from her cup.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you the truth," she replied, a smile curling on her lips. "You have to see it with your own eyes to believe it."
Jon didn't know what to make of her words, but was prepared to accept this answer.
"Can you at least show me the way to the Temple of Light?"
Mara nodded her head.
They left an hour later after Tito had emptied his cup of tea and Mara had finished kneading the dough. Jon was barely able to sit still, but he had the feeling that Mara took pleasure in torturing him. It felt as if she was punishing him for his long absence. At least that is what he deduced from her sharp remarks about his adventure to Qohor.
It was late evening when they arrived at the Isle of the Gods. The streets proved busy at this time of the day and it was hard to move through the crowd of people.
He recognized the Temple of Light. Both the walls made of red-coloured bricks and the priests garbed in their silken red robes stuck in his memory.
Jon doubted the priests would have allowed him and Tito to pass if they hadn't brought Mara with them, who demanded to see her younger sister Hadi.
The younger girl appeared moments later, her eyes wide in wonder as she saw him standing there, alive and mostly unharmed.
"R'hllor be blessed!" Hadi whispered and touched her amulet. Then she smiled and lowered her head in reverence. "We thought you dead and gone…another miracle."
"Maybe," Mara replied sourly. "Where is Dany? Your priests spent enough time swarming around her."
Hadi frowned, anger glinting in her blue eyes. "Dany is a honoured guest."
"Honoured prisoner would be the better term," Mara replied and jerked her head at Jon."Dany told me the eggs belonged to him. I think he has every right to see what they brought forth."
"What Dany brought forth," Hadi corrected her sister and shifted her attention back to Jon."But I am sure it will ease her heart to see you. Please follow after me."
Halls and corridors followed, lightened by numerous torches, the flames shining like stars on the black surface of the walls.
The acolytes eyed them with great curiosity. One of the higher-ranking Priestesses stopped them and only allowed them to pass after Hadi had explained their purpose.
At last Hadi opened a door, which led to a large curling corridor ending in a wooden staircase. Upstairs they found sleeping compartments that were solely occupied by women.
Not that Jon cared. He only wanted to see Dany, to hold his child and to apologize for his delay.
"Here," Hadi said and pointed at a wooden door, but gave both Mara and Tito a sharp look. "I think they deserve some privacy."
Jon didn't recognize Dany when he laid eyes on her. Her silver hair was no longer than the length of his little finger and garbed in red robes she looked indistinguishable from the other acolytes. Yet her change in appearance was not the most astounding thing, though Jon finally understood Mara's strange remarks.
The creatures swarming around Dany shouldn't exist. The last dragons perished more than hundreds years ago, but here they were: dragons reborn from his father's eggs.
One dragon was as black as the night, his scales red like crimson. Another one was blue like the summer sea, his scales shimmering with a golden glimmer. The last creature sported a rich green colour flecked with gold on his neck and back.
Yet even the sight of the dragons was nothing compared to the whimpering bundle sucking from her bared breast. He saw only a thatch of silver hair, but he felt as if his heart wanted to jump out his chest.
He wanted to speak, but it felt as if he lost the ability to speak.
"Dany…," he stuttered, his voice strained and distant to his ears. When she didn't react he raised his voice. "Dany…"
Dany froze and lifted her head, her purple eyes wet with tears.
She didn't answer for a long time, her body trembling as she continued to rock their babe in her arms.
"They told me the Second Sons were defeated," she said, her voice barely about a whisper. "I didn't think…" she trailed off, her voice drowned out by the whimpering child.
"I was lucky," he replied, lacking a better answer. Then he swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the black dragon, who had hopped on her shoulder." How did it happen? How did they hatch?"
A small smile washed her sadness away.
"I don't know," she replied weakly. "I don't know how why it happened…I only know that I stepped into a burning pyre and emerged unharmed."
Jon was stunned to silence. For the blink of a moment he thought she was joking, but on her face he found no hint of amusement. It would also explain her short hair, but it was still hard to believe.
"Do you want to hold your son?" she asked, breaking the silence that had settled over them. She regarded him with wide eyes as if she was afraid of his reaction.
"Of course," he replied in a trembling voice, feeling the urge to reassure her. He had always feared to father children, not wanting to condemn them to the life of a bastard. And yet he felt only joy."What name did you choose?"
Relief was palpable on her features as she lifted the child into his outstretched hands. For the blink of a moment he wanted to tell her to keep the child, fearing to drop him. It was a silly notion. He held all his younger siblings when they were babes. Yet he couldn't help it.
"You fought Dothraki and yet you pause to hold your child," she remarked, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "His name is Aemon."
"Aemon," he repeated the name of his son. "A Targaryen name."
"You are of Targaryen blood," she replied firmly and smoothed her hand over the child's head. "And you told me that you wanted to be like Aemon the Dragonknight. Besides, I don't know many Stark names."
"No," he assured her and eyed the child once more. He looked like most babes. Pink-faced and blue-eyed, his silver hair his only striking feature. "It suits him…he has silver hair like you. Speaking of silver hair…Could it be that you have Valyrian blood? Maybe one of your ancestors descended from the Blackfyre line?"
She chuckled as if he made a particularly funny joke.
"Why Blackfyre? Why not Targaryen?"
"My doomed Father was the Last Targaryen," he replied, confused by her sudden change in mood.
"He was not," she replied confidently. "Prince Viserys was smuggled to Essos and so was his younger sister, a mere babe…Daenerys Targaryen."
"Daenerys Targaryen," he repeated the name, all pieces falling into place. "So that is your true name?"
Her smile was as bright as a star.
"It is," she confirmed and stroked the dragon's head. "But I prefer Dany. Daenerys is quite a mouthful, don't you think?"
"I like it," he said and moved closer, her face inches away from his. The dragon's crimson eyes regarded him curiously. Then the dragon hopped from her shoulder and joined his two brothers. "Do I have to call you Princess?"
It was meant as a jape, but her sad smile made him regret his words.
"No," she answered and brushed her hand over his cheek. Then she leaned closer and placed a kiss on his lips. "Nobody can know. The dragons are small and fragile. We shouldn't risk their safety. We need to leave Braavos."
"Aye," Jon agreed. "And I have been wondering…Where is Ghost?"
"Outside," she told him quietly, a hint of guilt showing on her face. "The other girls are afraid of him, but I made him a nice sleeping place in the outer garden," she continued to explain and led him to a door hidden beneath a colourful drape. She pulled the drape aside and pulled down the handle, leading him out into a round courtyard, littered with trees and vines.
Moments later Ghost's white-furred head appeared behind one of the long smooth pillars supporting the roof of the terrace. Ghost's eyes met his and Jon hoisted Aemon back in Dany's arms.
His wolf made no sound as he trailed to his side and licked his hand.
"Did you miss me?" he asked, though it was silly to expect answer from an animal, no matter how clever.
"He has grown lazy," Dany joked. "Another reason to leave Braavos."
"Aye," he agreed and brushed his hand through Ghost's soft fur, an idea blooming in his mind. "Dany…Would you care to meet a friend of mine?"
"A friend," she repeated, curiosity glinting in her eyes. "A friend of yours is a friend of mine. Of course I want to meet him."
…
Arya
Riverrun's godswood was barely able to harbour all the guests paying witness to her brother's wedding to Lady Roslin Frey.
Lady Roslin was the kind of girl that makes men go mad, graced with a pretty face and soft brown hair reaching to her waist. Her dress was exquisite, made of a pale white seam, so shiny Arya thought it flowing water. Her hair held little decoration, only a few white daisies littering the braids keeping her hair out of her face.
Sansa would have sighed and admired the beauty of it all, but Arya winced at the scratchy feeling of her dress. It was made of grey pale lace and some sort of silken collar that turned her skin red. Her Lady mother spent all evening braiding her unruly hair.
Her Lady Mother even called her pretty and for a brief moment she was very happy. Jeyne Poole used to call her Arya Horseface, though next to Walder Frey's weasel-faced daughters everyone would look pretty. How someone like Walder Frey was able to father a beauty like Lady Roslin was a mystery to her.
Arya was happy for her brother, for he seemed to like the girl he is going to marry, but the there was something that stirred her bitterness. The presence of her supposed betrothed, a plump Frey boy graced with freckles and a shock of red hair.
Elmar Frey.
Elmar, she repeated the name to herself and gave him a sideway glance. He was standing among his many brothers, picking his nose. Elmar the Nosepicker, my future husband. Never. I rather marry Theon Greyjoy.
She brushed those bothersome thoughts away and shifted her attention back to the pair..
The bride was led by one of her elder brothers, forced to stand in for Walder Freys' absence. Robb was relieved when the grim old lord announced his absence, but the man leading the bride looked like all the other Freys; weasel-faced and grim.
Robb walked at his Lady mother's side, for their Lord father was gone, banished to the Wall. Robb was dressed in grey and white, Greywind forced to observe the ceremony from afar.
"Who comes before the gods this night?" her Lady mother's soft-spoken voice broke the silence that had settled over the crowd.
"Lady Roslin of House Frey comes here to wed…a woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods," Stevron Frey answered quietly, no smile showing on his lips. "Who comes to claim her?"
"Robb of House Stark, heir to Winterfell," her brother replied clearly. "Who gives her?"
"Stevron Frey, heir to the Twins," the old man replied and placed Lady Roslin's hand into Robb's. Then he looked down at Lady Roslin."Do you take this man?"
"I take this man," Lady Roslin whispered her reply. Then Robb pulled her cloak from her shoulders and replaced it with his own, sewn out of warm pelt and embellished with a grey direwolf.
"You may now kneel and receive the blessing of the gods," Her Lady Mother added and hand in hand her brother and his bride knelt down before the tree. A moment of silence followed and then the bride and groom kissed.
The ending of the marriage ceremony was accompanied by clapping and soon the guests made their way back to the Great Hall. Her Lady Mother was seated on her left side and Elmar the Nosepicker was seated on her right side, gulping down a piece of chicken.
Arya tried her best to ignore him, but this proved difficult when he was making these annoying noises. She had the urge to kick him, but that would displease her Lady Mother and she promised to behave.
Thus she endured it and focused on her food.
Now and then Elmar the Nosepicker mumbled an incoherent sentence and Arya continued to ignore him.
Yet then the minstrels were called forward and the dancing began.
At once the guests rose to their feet and started to crowd the dance floor. Robb was no great dancer, but he tried his best, probably to please his bride.
Several songs followed, before her mumbling betrothed asked her to dance with him. She only agreed, because she promised to behave. Thus she danced with him, fearing for the pretty slippers her Lady Mother gifted her as the clumsy boy continued to stumble over her toes.
"Can't you be more careful, stupid!" she chided him quietly and at last she was freed from her obligation. Limping she returned to her seat, a warm smile playing on her Lady Mother's lips.
She leaned down and kissed her cheek.
"Thank you for behaving," she whispered in her ear, her warm breath tickling her cheek. "I know how hard it is for you."
You know not, she wanted to say, but then she recalled how happy her Lady Mother was when she returned. She had wept for hours, nearly choking Arya to death until Robb separated them. You had our Lord Father…not Elmar the Nosepicker.
"I am fine," she assured her and decided to eat her cake.
The rest of the night passed quietly until a particularly drunken Lord called for the bedding.
Happily, the drunken horde of men lifted Lady Roslin in the air and carried her out of the room while the pretty ladies, most of them Roslin's relatives, pulled a helpless Robb out of the Great Hall.
It was no surprise to her that her Lady Mother sent her to bed, though she asked to join the other ladies. She always wanted to know why people make such a fuss about the bedding.
Even late into the night she heard the sounds of the celebrating guests. Somewhere between midnight and sunrise she woke, the taste of blood lingering in her mouth.
That night she dreamed she was a wolf, running freely through the woods.
Sadness filled her as she pulled on her cloak and slipped out of her chamber. She had spent the last weeks exploring the castle and knew how to avoid the guards. Lucky for her, the drawbridge was lowered and it was not hard to mix among the small folk to make her way out of the castle. Her Lady Mother wouldn't approve, but Arya longed for the smell of grass.
Only an hour of freedom, she thought and hopped through the green meadow, daisies and daffodils lining the muddy trail leading to a small wooden area not far from the castle.
She didn't know what caused it, but she started to tremble. Someone was there, watching her from the distance.
Slowly, she turned around and gasped.
Familiar golden eyes stared back at her, though by now her beloved wolf had grown into a massive beast like Greywind.
"Nymeria!" she shouted and bridged the distance, burying her tear-stricken face in Nymeria's tousled fur, so much like her own hair. "You came back!"
…
Daenerys
"You didn't lie when you said that your woman is beautiful," Tito remarked and dipped the bread in his bowl of soup.
Dany smiled and continued to rock Aemon. He was a quiet child, but the presence of so many people made him fuss. Only the rocking movement of her arms helped to calm him.
"There is no need for flattery," she replied warmly, her gaze flickering back to Jon."But I thank you for helping Jon. He told me that you took care of him while he was wounded."
"I did," Tito replied and broke apart the rest of the bread. "But I am sure he would have done the same for me. He impaled a Dothraki Khal for our dead friend Busco."
Dany gasped in surprise and gave Jon a curious glance.
"You killed a Khal?"
Jon blushed in embarrassment and put his empty bowl away."I didn't know that he was a Khal. Tito is just trying to flatter me."
"You are far too humble," Tito replied and bared his teeth. Then he put his empty bowl away and gave Mara a curious glance. She had been silent throughout the whole exchange, but now she decided to speak, her blue eyes coming to rest on Dany or better said on the black-winged dragon perched on her shoulder.
"I know I have no right to ask this question," Mara said, her voice barely above a whisper. "What will you do now?"
Dany nodded her head in understanding.
"We can't stay here…the dragons can't stay here," she explained. "Though I fear what the priests will do if I try to leave."
"You don't have to worry about that," Mara replied determinedly."Hadi will help you. Getting away shouldn't be much of a problem, but one question remains: Where will you go?"
"I have already thought about that," Jon declared and brushed his hand over Ghost's head. Then he turned to look at Tito."Lhazar is a wide land…big enough for growing dragons. Tito is prepared to offer us asylum."
Dany felt a gust of sympathy washing over her.
"And this is not too great of a burden for your people?"
"No, on the contrary," Tito replied and gave her knowing smile. "My Mother is going to love the dragons."
"And we won't have to depend on them," Jon added, a seldom smile curling on his lips as he pulled a clinking bag of coin from his vest. "All we need is your people's friendship."
"The fact that you fought Dothraki should win them over quick enough," Tito explained and tightened his cloak around his shoulders. The night was cold and a breeze was coming through the open door leading out to the garden. Outside she heard the whispering of the priests, ringing softly in her ears like a lullaby. They were generous to her, but she didn't trust them.
"Whatever you do," Mara whispered softly. "You should leave as soon as possible. The longer you stay the harder it will be to get away."
"True," Dany agreed with a heavy voice. "Will you come with us?"
Sadness was showing on Mara's face as she shrugged her shoulders.
"My father has need of my company," she explained. "Do you understand?"
"I understand," Dany replied, though she felt disappointed. Another friendly face would have made the long travel more pleasant. "And I am going to miss you."
…