Daenerys
They left before the sun had risen above the horizon. A chilly morning greeted them as they passed rolling hills of Lhazar. The grass was wet and muddy, the sky above covered in dreary clouds. The sun was nothing more than a distant blur of light trying to pass through the thick clouds.
Now and then the light was dimmed by the dragons circling above their heads.
Their sight never failed to comfort her, but she still had a nasty foreboding. Common practice of the Lhazareen would have dictated to they call for an assembly, but this attack was different. The attack came all of a sudden and several towns near Kosrak were attacked and put to the flames.
Come quickly, the carrier of the chief of Kosrak had asked in his letter. Thus they hurriedly gathered three-thousand mounted men. Jon advised against hasty actions, but she also understood that chief Mallor wanted to act as quickly as possible. The more time passed the more towns would fall victim to the enemy.
Daenerys faced the Dothraki only once, but this confrontation was enough to know that they are not pleasant people.
We have dragons, she reminded herself and angled her head to look at Jon. He was riding a few paces ahead of her, Ghost not far behind him. Both Jon and his wolf held their heads raised and watched out for potential enemies.
Before them stretched hilly landscape of pastures, but far off in the distance she spotted small forests, a glimmering river and the pale violet outlines of the Bone Mountains.
They had ridden for hours, but they have yet to find the villages in question.
"Are you sure it is here?" Tito asked the carrier. He was a small, stocky man with peppered hair. His face was littered with scars and his dark eyes narrowed against the sunlight bursting through the clouds. Daenerys tried see what he was seeing, but it proved impossible for her. She saw nothing, but the blurry lines of the horizon.
No wonder they call him Hawk's eye.
"You must be blind, boy," the man grumbled and pointed at the sky. "Can't you see the smoke?"
Daenerys tried again and saw nothing. Jon seemed share her feelings and shrugged his shoulders. Only Tito's brother Hibal seemed to see the invisible smoke.
"Finally," He said and brushed his hand over the tip of his spear. "We found their trace."
Tito jerked his head at the forest looming ahead.
"We should ride through the woods…to shadow our approach, though I doubt the horde is still here. They probably moved along the road passing Kosrak. It is the only passable street broad enough for carts and baggage trains.
"That will slow us down," Hibal countered unhappily, but chief Mallor seemed to agree with Tito's suggestion. "We shouldn't act hasty. We will do as Tito suggested. Let's move."
The woods proved dark and chilly. High pine trees loomed over them and threw wide shadows behind them. The cold breeze coming from the mountains made her shiver beneath her wool cloak trimmed with white hare pelt.
"Are you cold, Princess?" Ser Barristan asked. He decided to ride behind her, Larsha and the other women to keep an eye on them. She knew he meant well, but it made her feel like a child. This was the first time she was riding to battle and she wanted to prove that she was one of them.
And yet she couldn't help but to smile at the elderly knight. She never had a grandfather, but Ser Barristan was the kind of person every child wished for.
"I am fine," she assured him with a quick smile. "Have you ever encountered Dothraki, good Sir?"
He shook his head, his white hair fluttering around his weather-worn face like feathers.
"I have not, but I heard enough of them to know that they are not to be underestimated."
"We have the dragons," she assured him and he nodded his head in agreement, though she noticed an expression of doubt washing over his face.
"We have dragons," he confirmed quietly and followed after her.
The sun stood high on the sky when they finally left the dark woods behind them and found the muddy trail Tito had been searching for.
The street was not particularly broad, but good enough to move with mounted men. Next came a ragged landscape of yellow grass and foliage. It looked as if someone decided to paint the entire landscape yellow instead of the green pasture so common to Lhazar.
Soon the landscape gave away to dry hills and dusty valleys. Occasionally she spotted a fig tree or sheep grazing on the dry hills. They looked lost and several of them bled heavily.
The smell lured Viserion from the sky. Quick like a snake he snapped the animal from the ground. It didn't take long, before Rhaegon started to quarrel with his brother. They had them before their departure, but it seemed they were hungry for more.
It took a lot of shouting on her side, before the dragons stopped their childishness and they were able to move on.
"There!" Larsha exclaimed as she reached the top of a high ridge overseeing a narrow valley. "Smoke!"
Daenerys' heart sped up when she heard this and led her horse up the hill to join Larsha's side. Black plumes of smoke rose from the ruins of a town. Even the fields and the animals were unable to escape the slaughter that befell the town.
It was a grizzly sight, but she tried to hide her shock. I am the blood of the dragon.
"I think the flames have been burning for a long time," Jon remarked to the other men and narrowed his eyes against the bright sunlight. "When do you think did the the attack occur?"
"Yesterday," Hawk's eye replied. "They probably attacked yesterday.
Then he craned his neck and pointed at the churned up earth, leading away from the ruins of the town.
"They moved west towards Kosrak," he remarked and frowned."But this was a small horde…maybe two-thousand mounted men and no carts."
"They probably split from the main horde to come here," Tito suggested.
Jon nodded his head in agreement.
"Could be…that would also explain why they were able to attack this quickly."
Tito frowned and pulled on the reins of his horse, slowly leading it down the hill.
Jon followed after him and Daenerys followed suit, Ser Barristan close at her heels.
The elderly knight frowned as well, his hand smoothing over the hilt of his sword.
Daenerys herself felt the anticipation rising inside her as they drew closer and closer towards the town.
More and more dead sheep littered their path. Most of them died from arrow wounds, though some of them looked as if someone cut their throats with a blade. Soon they also found the first human corpses.
Daenerys had seen corpses before, but this was different. Most of them were cut down like pigs for slaughter. Among them were children, women and elderly people, who presumable guarded the sheep herds. She also noticed Dothraki among the dead littering the outskirts of the town, but they were like a single drop of water in a wide desert.
I am the blood of the dragon, she whispered to herself. I am the blood of the dragon.
Behind her back she heard Larsha curse. The other women appeared equally tense, their dark eyes glinting with restrained anger. Even the dragons seemed affected, their loud roars echoing over the ruins of the town.
They can smell the blood, she knew and averted her gaze when she spotted the body of a dead woman. She couldn't be much older than Daenerys herself. An arrow stuck in her head and her clothing was tattered. Numerous cuts littered her naked skin and teats.
Yet that was only the beginning. The worst came when they passed through the destroyed gates. There was hardly anything left from the city walls, but a carcass of blackened wood. Only a few stone houses were left, black and devoid of life.
The sheer amount of blackened corpses on the ground made it almost impossible move forward. Daenerys clung to her horse and was torn between looking away and facing the horror.
There were so many of them that Daenerys soon stopped to count. She wasn't even able to say whether they were female or male. The heat shrank the bodies to small black figurines not bigger than children.
She was used to the smell of burned flesh, but this was different. These corpses had been lying here for a long time. Most of them were covered in maggots and other animals known to feast on human flesh.
The sweet and rotten smell forced her to cover her mouth with her cloak, least she vomited out her last meal.
They had nearly crossed the town they came across the ruins of a temple. Almost every Lharzareen town had such a building dedicated to the Great Shepard, though here was nothing left of the statue, but a heap of ash. Only the walls of the temple were left, black and papered with dead corpses, pierced by pikes. Among them were elderly man, children, babes and women of all ages. Their faces were pale, blue and grey. Some had no eyes or breasts, some lacked fingers and others even their heads.
It felt as if they were thrown in a nightmare.
Shaking violently, she stumbled from her horse and emptied her stomach on the ground. Her body was wracked by spasms as she tried to block out the terrible smell.
"Dany!" Larsha called out to her and smoothed her hand over Daenerys' back. Ser Barristan followed suit and Jon stumbled from his horse to join her side.
"Breathe…Breathe!" he whispered to her.
Daenerys tried, but it felt as if her throat was in knots.
She exhaled deeply and closed her eyes for a moment. It felt as if an eternity had passed when she opened them again.
Larsha was holding her and Jon was grouching before her, his face awash with concern.
"Better?" he asked gently.
She nodded her head.
"I think I can breathe again…," she assured him and pulled herself to her feet.
"Ser Barristan…," he addressed the elderly knight, his grip tight on her hand. "I think it is best if you go back to the woods. We have been riding all day…we will soon make camp. We will take care of this."
Deaenerys knew what he meant to do. Burn the dead.
"Sonarys will be of help," she told him and frowned. She hated being treated like fragile maid, though she knew he meant well. "And I am well."
"You look like a ghost," he told her in a tone that left no room for discussions. "A bit of fresh air and you will feel much better. I know what I am talking about…I vomited at Theon's boots when I first beheld an execution. You don't have to feel ashamed," He assured her and brushed her hair out of her face.
"I agree with Jon," Ser Barristan added and graced her with a grandfatherly smile."Allow me to escort you."
"Very well," Daenerys agreed shakily and swallowed hard. "I will do as you say."
As promised, Ser Barristan led her away from the town. She didn't want to admit it, but the fresh air helped. It didn't take too long, before she was helping to set up camp. It gave her something to focus on.
Once she was finished with the basic tasks, Daenerys, Ser Barristan and Larsha chased a handful of sheep down the hills towards the dragons, who had started to build their sleeping place on a distant hill.
It was no late evening and the sun stood low on the distant horizon. Streaks of violet and red dotted the sky. It was reminiscent of a purple wound.
"Princess," Ser Barristan interrupted her moment of silent contemplation. "You should rest. It has been a long day."
She wanted to refuse, but she felt the weariness in her bones.
"You are probably right," she replied and fastened her cloak tighter around her shoulders.
Silently, she followed Ser Barristan back to the camp and settled before the cackling campfire. The flames swirled before her in colours of red, yellow and orange. The heat tickled her skin and helped ease her nerves, though she was unable to banish away the grizzly sights swirling through her mind.
"Is it always this terrible?" she asked Ser Barristan, who sat on his velvet cloak. She envied him for his calm composure.
"War is always terrible, Princess," he explained and gave her sad smile. "There is always pillage, death and rape to be found in times of war. You would have a hard time finding an army that never committed such acts of violence as you saw today, though I admit…this was rather nasty. It didn't look like common pillage, but more like an act of revenge."
Ser Barristan's answer alarmed her more than she wanted to admit.
We gave them a harrowing defeat. Was this the way of the Dothraki to take revenge for it?
"The Dothraki like to kill…it is all they know," Larsha added in broken Bastard Valyrian."But he is right. This was an act of revenge. They butchered them to pay us back for their defeat."
Daenerys accepted her words in silence and angled her head to search for a sign of Jon and Sonarys.
The sun had disappeared behind the horizon when Jon and the others finally returned.
They looked grim and pale, but that was no surprise to her. Burning the dead was no pleasant task.
"You look much better," Jon remarked when his gaze came to rest on her. He even smiled a little, though she couldn't help but to notice the glint of anger in his eyes. "You have my thanks, Ser Barristan."
Ser Barristan gave him an accepting nod and continued with his work. He was sharpening his blade with some of stone.
"And what will we do now?" Daenerys asked first Jon and then Tito."Will we fight?"
"That depends on my brother," Tito grumbled angrily and jerked his head at the chief, surrounded by his men. "And what the scouts are going to tell us. We shouldn't act hastily, though I want nothing more than to crash a few Dothraki skulls along the way."
"I agree," Jon added and grimly. "This was different than Qohor."
This roused her interest.
"How was it different?"
"They killed the majority of the women, but there is a great lack of boy children among the victims," Tito explained.
Daenerys didn't know what to make of this and narrowed her eyes in confusion.
"What are you trying to say?"
"That they were taken for a specific purpose," Tito returned and gave Jon a sideway glance. "The Masters of Astapor are always keen on boy children. They need them to build their armies of Unsullied."
Unsullied, Daenerys repeated to herself and searched her memory about these Unsullied. They are slave soldiers of the finest sort and bound too strict obedience. That is what she had read in one of her books a long time ago.
"But why leave the women?" Daenerys asked and wrinkled her brows in confusion. "They could have earned a lot of coin by selling them to the slavers, unless this was really just an act of revenge."
"It seems so," Jon agreed through gritted teeth. He looked very tense, his jaw tight like a bowstring. His dark gaze rested on the dragons circling above the camp. "They came here to take revenge."
It was hard to deduce Jon's feelings by the expression on his face, but his anger was palpable by the way he was flexing his hand. He took an arrow wound in his first battle and whenever he overstrained his arm the wound started sting. Flexing his hand gave temporary relief, but only the cooling pastes of Tito's mother were able to remove the pain completely.
Yet it wasn't so hard to understand what he was thinking.
He thinks this is the result of our past actions, she believed and felt the sudden urge to pull him aside to speak alone.
"Jon," she said and forced a smile over her lips. It was hard to smile with those memories still lingering at the edge of her mind. "The dragons seem anxious. Maybe we should pay a visit to them. Would you care to join me?"
"A good idea," he agreed and lifted his head to meet her gaze. "Then let us go."
Ghost trailed after them as they climbed up the hill to join the dragons. Rhaegon was sleeping while Viserion was circling above their heads. Sonarys was feasting on his supper, but started to throw plumes of smoke in the air when he noticed their presence.
"They look calm enough," Jon remarked quietly.
She stepped closer and grasped his arm.
"I lied," she added with a wry smile. "But I wanted to speak alone. It isn't your fault…you know. It is as Larsha said…this is the way of the Dothraki."
"It is not," he replied grimly and tightened his grip on her hand. He didn't look at her, his gaze fixed on Sonarys. "They usually take prisoners. They acted this wantonly because we gave them a harrowing defeat. I always expected they would come back, but I didn't expect they would retaliate this brutally…I even thought they might stop their attacks temporarily... I was a naive fool."
"You are no fool," she assured him. "And what was the alternative? Should the Lhazareen just tolerate their behaviour?"
"Of course not," he replied and nodded his head. "But I still don't know how far I want to to go…"
…
Sansa
Sansa tried to hide her feelings of shame behind a passive expression. Highgarden proved as lovely as promised, but she took little pleasure in the lavish gardens and the towers of marble touching the blue sky.
A lady knows her courtesy, she told herself and made her way to the aisle. Throughout her childhood she only knew her mother's small Sept. Not long ago she had the privilege to visit the Sept of Baelor, but this Sept was not less beautiful. It showed the wealth of Highgarden.
This wealth was the reason Joff broke their betrothal. She loved him once with all her heart, but now she felt only hatred for him. Just thinking about him made her ears burn.
Lord Willas will be my husband, she reminded herself and met his gaze. I have to do my duty.
She met him a few days ago and hardly saw anything of him since. He was much older than her, though quite comely. He shared Ser Loras' soft-featured face, golden-brown locks and honey-coloured eyes. Yet he lacked his fit built and his twisted foot was an ugly sight to behold. Not even his beautiful silken cloak could hide his ailment.
My brother is also a cripple, she reminded herself not for the first time. I ought to have pity for him. I must try to love him.
Yet she still felt the tears burning in her eyes as she took his hand. It was good that her face was hidden by a thick veil trimmed with baby pearls.
The Septon's singing voice lulled in her ears as her betrothed lifted the white garment. He didn't smile, his face a mask of seriousness.
He is serious. That was her first impression of Willas Tyrell. So very serious.
She didn't know what to make of that. Joff was always trying to impress her and showered her with lavish gifts like fine silks or jewels, but Willas Tyrell only gifted her an old dusty book that chronicles the history of his family.
To get to know your new family, he had told her in a gentle voice. It was a pleasant voice, but she would have preferred a kind word or a compliment.
The marriage vows come easy to her mouth. She knew these vows by heart. She had dreamed of this day so often, but now she felt only bitterness.
They used me, she knew and stifled a sob. The Queen and Joff. They used me. All of Joff's flattery was a lie.
Once the vows were spoken she removed her maiden cloak, made of the purest white, a grey direwolf embellished in the middle. Her husband wasn't able to do it as he had to lean on a crutch.
It isn't meant to be like this, but she knew and felt the heat in her cheeks.
Doing her best to keep her composure, she turned around to receive a chaste kiss.
It was the clapping of the guests that called her back to the present moment. She was the only Stark here, a wolf among roses. Again she felt the sharp sting of loneliness. She longed for her mother's kind words, Arya's silly japes, Bran's scary stories, Rickon's complaints and…father.
I must play my part, she reminded herself again and forced a smile over her lips as she met her husband's gaze. She noticed now that there were specks of green in his golden eyes.
He is not as handsome as Ser Loras, but he has pretty eyes, she decided.
He gave her a hesitant smile and took her arm, allowing her to lead him out of the sept to the feasting hall.
Even from the distance she heard the sound of music. Sansa loved dancing and felt the urge to join the festivities, but being mindful of her husband's disposition she forced herself to forget about it and took her seat next to him.
The food rich, but she could hardly stomach anything. She knew what was expected of her, but just thinking about it left her with a queasy feeling in her stomach.
"Is the food not to your taste, my Lady?" Lord Willas asked her after a long moment of silence had passed between them.
She couldn't help but to blush. I need to get a hold of myself.
"I am just excited," she apologized sweetly.
A hesitant smile passed over his lips and he called for one of the page boys.
Going by his golden-brown eyes the boy was a relative. Lord Willas whispered something in his ear and the boy grinned from one ear to the other, before rushing off to fulfil whatever task his Lord gave him.
Scarce a minute passed, before he the boy returned with a silver plate.
"The Queen was kind enough to inform me about your tastes," Lord Willas told her and jerked his head at the lemon cakes.
Sansa was taken back by his gesture, but she couldn't help but to remain mistrustful.
Joff gave me nothing but lies. I need to be careful.
"I thank you, my Lord," she replied and nibbled from a piece of cake. It tasted heavenly, but she could take no joy in it."I thank you."
The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Most of the guests were deep in their cups when one of them called for the bedding.
Sansa froze in fear when she heard this.
I must be brave, she reminded herself, but her husband seemed to sense her fear and sent the men away.
Silence spread between them afterwards as she undressed. Lord Willas did the same, though not before her. It seemed he felt just as ashamed as her.
It made her wonder if he was ashamed of his twisted leg or just shy in front of ladies. He was twenty, a man grown. It was hard to believe that he never bedded a woman.
Trembling and only dressed in her nightgown she slipped beneath the covers, to seek warmth. She never thought the south could be this cold.
It made her long for the hotsprings. She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining the heart tree and the steaming pools of water.
It was the sinking of the mattress beside her that called her back to the present moment.
"My Lady…," He mumbled quietly and his golden eyes met hers.
Then he leaned over to squeeze her folded hands.
"I wish I could wait…but my Lord Father commanded me…he commanded me to do this..," he said in a low and insecure voice.
Sansa was flabbergasted by his answer.
"Am I not pleasing enough for you, my Lord?" she asked, a bit insulted by his lack of interest.
He blushed and lifted his hand to touch her cheek.
"That is not the reason…you are very beautiful, but you are half a child. That is all."
This answer was even worse, but she tried her best to hide her feelings.
"I am a woman flowered. I am not afraid."
A moment of heavy silence followed, before he finally moved and joined her beneath the covers. His breathing tickled her cheek as turned to lay on top of her. His body felt warm against hers. It was not unpleasant.
She expected of him to do it quickly, but he proved more than cautious. Ever gently, he touched her cheek, her neck and the curve of her shoulder. He slowly brushed the underside of her breast, before moving his hand further down to come to rest on her hip. His other hands skimmed along her other thigh and slipped between her legs.
She didn't expect that and gave an unladylike gasp. She closed her eyes, a strange feeling washing over her.
He seemed to sense her feelings and leaned down to kiss her cheek and then her lips. He tasted of the wine mixed with honey essence. It was a pleasant taste, but the knowledge of what was to come dimmed her pleasure.
She grabbed the sheets as he pushed inside her. It left a stinging feeling between her legs that brought tears to her eyes.
She must have cried out, for he stopped immediately, one of his hands touching her face in a soothing gesture.
She touched his neck and placed a kiss on his mouth. It was meant to encourage him.
He returned her kiss and moved inside her, the pain giving away to a dull ache of pleasure. Shortly after, she gasped in his neck as he spent himself inside her, his breathing hot against her cheek.
It took him a good while to entangle himself from her body, his eyes of molten gold staring down at her in a mix of sadness and warmth.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked her and brushed his fingertips over her hand resting above her head.
She shook her head and meant it. She imagined it worse, though for a brief moment she wondered whether Joff would have asked her the same question.
"I am well," she assured him and he finally smiled. It was a sincere smile devoid of pride.
"Then I am pleased, my Lady. I assure you…we can wait as long as you want until we do this again…you are still so very young."
"I told you before," she replied and squeezed his hand. "I am a woman grown."
…