Flashfoward

The city is called Qohor

they are best known for their swords

their origins are guarded close

many woes to those who know

for the secrets they are tragic

of the blades spell-forged with magic

Many colors melded in steel

many layers stacked and sealed

and its said to be near as good

as the dragonsteel of old

very few have dared to know

why the blades for less had sold

But the trade guilds had lost much power

when the river trade had soured

And they combed the river Royne

for the one who snatched their coin

But no one's seen the guilty since

and they've never seen the face

they won't settle for recompense

so on goes the vicious race

and the poor hero is dead

...if they ever find her head

Dany

Daenerys Targaryen opened her eyes to bright red streaks of dawn. Looking around, she could see the rising sun shining its first light on the rolling hills of grass, that seemed only endless.

Is this what the nightlands looked like? It reminded much her of the Dothraki Sea. That she was dead, she did not doubt.

Part of her just wanted to stay on the dew moistened ground. Something about death made her feel numb, though she was gone, she somehow just didn't feel it yet. She had been killed by the waters of Riverrun, when she fell from her dragon and landed in the frozen river.

Dany thought of all those who had died before her time. Her parents, one who died in childbirth, and another who fell at the blade of one of his own trusted white knights. She thought of Willem Darry, the closest thing she ever had to a real father. Thoughts of Viserys flooded her mind only to be replaced by those of his killer, her own sun and stars.

The names and faces in her mind continued to change, as she stayed on her back, in the moist embrace of the wet grass. Would any of them be here? Would she meet her own ancestors who went before her time?

Finally after some time, she got to her feet. Below her at her feet, was small chest painted red, which was now only chips of red paint. It was as if she had not noticed it until now.

She lifted the latch on the chest. The rusted metal frame was warm to her touch. When Dany opened it, a plume of grey smoke left the chest, and below was the remains of some fire that burned out for want of air rather than fuel. A good many scrolls had been in here, but many were now burned or least partially burned.

At the top of the unburned pile, was a scroll wrapped in a thin ribbon crimson silk, and stamped with a plain seal of black wax.

Daenerys Targaryen picked up the scroll, and broke the wax seal on the scoll.

The clouds overhead suddenly blotted out the stars, and the rising sun gave an eriee light to the land.

Her surroundings changed, and she saw herself looking out the balcony of a two story house. She was in a city, a beautiful and prosperos one as the streets showed. It had a great stench though that reminded her of squalid Mereen on a hot day.

As she watched her surroundings, voices called out in unison, voices that sounded like thunder. "Come!" Four men on horseback came into view, their voices like thunder.

The first one rode a weary white destrier. His rider was a fat man with a great black beard, and carried a great warhammer on his back. Those in the streets went about their business, as his the old warhorse worked its way down the street. Some bowed to the rider, but most showed indifference to him.

The second one came on a great blood bay and took the peace that she saw from below. Those who stood too close to his path were cut down by its rider, a thin man, who wore greater finery than the last and carried a mighty sword that gave him great authority.

The third rider came down, with a harp his hands. Black and simple was his clothing and black was his palfrey. His voice was solemn when he sang a song about a night that ended. Dany felt a stray tear at the sound of the harp, but to her surprise, few below looked upon rider with any sense of interest, but those that did could only weep.

When he had gone, the fourth horseman came. Its horse was covered half in ice, and it looked just as much of a corpse like its rider. The sky overhead darkened, and winds blew cold as knives.

She could only see ten people left in the street, who watched the horse and the rider but could only stare. Before he passed, three of the ten had fallen dead.

The falling snow all around fell heavier, and heavier still until she could barely see in front of her, and heavier still until she could barely see in front of her.

The storm then faded as quick as it came. The veil of hard falling snow gave way to Fine yellow dust. As far as could be seen, long and level sands covered far and wide, and in front of her was a boy. He was young boy, not a day over five and ten namedays. His garments were of fine wool, and seemed out of place in the desert. Covering his head, was a wide-brimmed straw hat seemed to drop down and obscured her eyes. In his hands was a spade which was half buried in the ground.

A rumble was heard in the Earth below, and A rumble was heard in the Earth below, and the ground began to shake. The spade slipped from the boy's hands. "run!" he cried, " We have to run!" But the sands were giving way beneath their feet. When the boy tried to scramble from the hole, its crumbling sides gave way and collapsed. Dany saw the sands wash over the boy, burying him as he opened his mouth to shout. Acting on instinct, she tried to fight her way to him, but the sands were rising all around him, pulling him down into the grave, filling his mouth, his nose, his eyes . . .

Images raced through her mind, as she fell. It was almost like her visions in the House of the Undying, but these visions were different.

She heard a gasp, as she opened her eyes, her own gasp, and a childlike one at that. Daenerys Targaryen, turned and felt the gravel around her form.

They were in a abandoned shed with a low ceiling, somewhere with a layer of gravel over the Earth.

"What's wrong sister? There had better be something wrong, because you just woke the dragon with your noise."

The sound of his voice stunned her far more than any words he could have said.

"Viserys?" She asked with disbelief.

"Who else would it be?" His face came into view, he was only a little younger than she remembered. Dany didn't know what to think upon seeing his face. He was cruel to her as a child, but he was the only family she truly had. It felt strangely bittersweet to she him again.

Light hit his face and she saw his angry lilac eyes, angrier than she remembered. They seemed disappointed too. He wants to see fear, she realized. Dany had no fear to give however, she was a dragon, truer to the family name than he was.

Viserys was killed by fire, but she had been killed by ice, humanlike ice. The thought brought irritation to Daenery Targaryen. Success after success before Riverrun had made her bold, she took big risks, as her advisors pointed out, but she won big.

"Sister, be quiet when sleep you sleep, you made a lot of noise." His irritation was mounting.

"But I had a dream," her voice was quiet, and she had no idea what really happened, or for that matter where she even was. Dany wasn't even sure if this was a vision, but something felt real about where she was now.

The surprise was swift and rude. Her senses were keen after all the time she had spent in the saddle of a dragon. Instinctively, she ducked the hard slap from his right, and in one fluid motion, side stepped out of his path. Viserys had put enough force into his hand, that he stumbled forward when his hand missed her face.

Dany herself nearly stumbled, as she was not used to her younger form, which it clearly was. Looking down quickly, she judged herself to be somewhere between ten and twelve namedays.

He was raging now, but but he was also surprised too, Dany had been very obedient to him as a child, but that girl died somewhere on the Dothraki Sea.

Viserys lunged at her, with such a madness in his eyes that she could not remember from him. The corner of her eyes had wandered to a carved staff on a crate. She seized it in time to swing the bludgeoned wooden tip into his unprotected groin, which elicted a cry of pain from him.

There was no time to do anything afterwards … the front door flung open, and three men poured into the shed. They called out in a tongue that she didn't recognize, but sounded like stop, thieves. These men were either thugs and cutpurses of whom she had seen too many of in her years of wandering the free-cities, or they were members of a city-watch. It was hard too tell in many cases of course. She could not make out any uniform however.

She knew immediately, after fighting Viserys, that they had no chance against the three whoever they were. Looks were exchanged between Viserys who still gasping in agony, and herself. They agreed to run, and bolted for the smaller back door.

The door opened quickly despite its ancient appearance, though its rusted iron hinges screamed as they passed through its doorway.

Dany was no stranger to having to run for her life, and neither was Viserys, whose desperation to escape allowed him to forget all else.

It was morning, Dany guessed as she looked up at the sky. In another hour the sun would come up, she hoped.

Their pursuers chased them through a maze of buildings, and even at this hour, she could hear the ring of hammers on steel.

They came against the wall of a dead-end alley, and as they turned to leave, the sounds of their pursuers grew louder.

"hide!" she jumped behind a pile of coal, against the wall of a smithy and tried not to breathe the dust that went up. Her brother had done the same.

The men chasing them looked around somewhere in the distance, but came nowhere close to the pile. Little time had passed when they walked away clearing having given up the chase.

They both agreed to get out of here, before the first light came. Suddenly, a scream could be heard. It seemed to come from directly below them. The scream was heartbreaking, and even Viserys looked horrified for a moment. It was the scream of a child, and it was the kind of scream someone made when they died horribly.

"What are you doing here, slaves!" They both jumped at the deep voice above them belonged to a burly smith, whose trade was marked by his muscular right arm and an empty wheel barrow that could only be here for coal. He spoke to them in High Valyrian.

"Master Hoat says that slaves can't be outside, not even at dark."

note: This one took longer for me to write for some reason. It's actually much different from my original outline for this set of events, but I think it works much better.