A/N: as always a hearty thank you to SwordintheDarkness, The two Hannah, Ramzes(as always) for reviewing and Maddie rose for reviewing and Beta-ing.

BTW for any recent viewers. I've re-written the first two chapters, to make them better. And I will probably re-write all chapters until chapter 5

• Daenyre's POV•

In her dreams she was back in the halls of Dragonstone.

She hated to admit that this is exactly where she wanted to be, in the glum, gloomy, grey beauty of her enemies' castle, not admist the bright, beautiful, bejewelled gaiety of her father's tent in the Stepstones. In the crypts she tried to squeeze her eyes until they resembled two thing grey threads, but she was still at Dragonstone, and she was happy to be back.

Thought no even a kindling in sight the shadows sprang about her and from the serene dragon gargoyles, and dragon heads the colour of soot formed on the floor, despite the plethora of gargoyles she could only see four, that descended into three.

The darkness about her was beautiful, even an admirer of dawn had to admit, the first to rise the last to sleep. But it was not the mystery of the shadows that she loved the most. It was rather the moist air and the feeling of moss between her toes. In the halls she gasped, and gasp left her so she went and chased it down the hall. 'I must be going mad' she though cynically but she didn't care she ran after her voice, past the shadowless gargoyles, and down the Obsidian stairs. Her scarlet silks rustling behind her.

Out the arrow-shaped window she could see the smoke of the volcano beneath Dragonstone, the hot air rising and cleansing her. It got darker and darker, and she went faster until she heard a deep and gentle voice beckon her closer.

'Vinous, Vinous' it said in the fluid and warm bastard Valyrian , the tongue of her childhood.

She did not have to look up to see who it was.

'Father!' She cried out in Andal hugging him around the waist, it would've taken arms thrice the size to hug Maelys the Monstrous around the chest, she could feel a scowl form in his face akin to the scowl of his dead twin.

'What's this?' He muttered in the common tongue, pointing a crooked finger at her arms.

She could feel a gust of wind form in her arm amounting to an object swindled in white cloth, with a shrieking noise.

As her shaking ringed fingers touched the bundle she felt a winged shadow pull her from her father and onto hard slab of rock overlooking the narrow sea, Daenyre softly winced as she felt a harsh slap against her thighs, the pain continued around her loins only to find her white bundle coming to her from across the sea. As she reached out and took it, she saw her reflection only to see a woman grown, dressed in red silks, with the same flaxen hair and eyes like orchids staring back at her sympathetically.

She decided to disregard the vision as she slowly unwrapped the bundle. Only to find a babe, crying and red in the face, yet it's beauty was undeniable.

As it tempered down she could see it had the statuesque features and sharp cheekbones of Viserys, the baby seemed to have taken none of its appearance after her she even doubted it was hers.

But when the baby opened its eyes her breath caught in her throat as she witnessed its sharp blue eyes, unlike hers or any of her kin.

Before she could do any more the sea swallowed her and her whelp whole.

She did not even scream when she woke up and made her way to her sword-lesson, the sword of the conqueror hanging at her hip. Yet she couldn't stop a tear from falling as she put on her sand-silk breeches and cream-coloured shirt, her Dothraki riding garb. She had lived a life without kin, and the idea of her child dying be it dream or not devastated her. She couldn't think about anything but her dream for the rest of the day.

-

They've been playing at their sword for what seemed like hours, she was getting very tired.

'Ow!' Cried out Daenyre as Ser Tristan Rivers after he hit her arm with his sword without restraint, as if she were a village urchin not the next queen of the seven kingdoms.

She felt as though she could scarcely hear septa Claryssa tut at her just then 'impudent little wretch, playing with swords your place is at the solar with her grace and her ladies, attend to your embroidery at once!' and the suppressed ladylike giggles of Lady Cersei and Ashara Behind the puckered old thing swiftly followed. The old days when she dained to pick up a sword were lost to her.

She was an excited child of five when she rushed out of her history lesson gleeful at the idea that she and only she was the owner of Blackfyre, the owner of the trifle that rallied thousands of men behind Daemon Blackfyre, it was then hidden in Dragonstone in a place no one knew of. So that evening she tried her hand at swordplay only to find she was good enough to prove a challenge to the fellow lords.

'I nearly bested Renly' she now smiled ten years later 'until that cow of woman took my wooden sword and embarrassed me in front of everyone, 'Daft Dany' they called me weeks after that until the rebellion came and made them all forget'

And here she was a girl of seventeen, a slender, weak winter child that could barely lift up Blackfyre above her waist even with all the strength that she could muster.

'That is enough for today' declared the exiled Riverlander, your reflexes and strength are admirable but those would be of no use to you lest you practice actually touching your target'

'It's the sword!' She insisted shoving the soot-black blade back into its scabbard.

'A Blackfyre without Blackfyre' asked Ser Tristan confused 'what are your words?'

'We bear the sword' remorsely replied Daenyre shrugging a slender shoulder as if those words did not faze her. 'Daemon I bore the sword ser, and he was killed in battle all the same, I have Fire and Blood'

'Keep practicing' insisted Ser Tristan a sympathetic smile on his face 'Those are the Targaryen words'

With that Daenyre exited the main room, hastily making her escape towards the deck. I am in no mood to be questioned by my own subjects

As she reached the deck her display of regality dropped like a mask, with the salty breeze that reminded Daenyre how she was surrounded by water, not of the narrow sea, but the Jade sea. And more of her dream and that poor child, 'sometimes we can't defend the ones we love' she thought haplessly

The fiery maiden of the iron throne surrounded by foreign water thousands of leagues from her people, at that she let herself lean over the deck with all her weight and lets her face crumple in sheer exhaustion, not the exhaustion expected as a consequence of sword fighting but as a consequence of her mind at work filled with so many plans and fears she could swear that her head doubled its size during those past few weeks.

All the same she chose to indulge in the peace of this moment as she let the vapour seep into her perfectly coiffed ribbon-bound hair, and the winds ruffle the black and red skirts of her Westerosi gown.

The sea was gleaming and glistening in all its chaos, emerald wave upon sapphire wave upon emerald once again, making it seem as though the tides were fighting, at the winds behest.

The last Blackyre scoffed at her own folly with laughter every damn thing on this continent reminds me of my ancestors' wars it seems she reflected realizing that just like the Targaryens Daenyre was seeing choleric omens everywhere.

But suddenly her train of thought was derailed as the rhythm of steady gentle footsteps entered her earshot. She did not even have to turn her head to see who it was as the strong Lysene flowery scent gave it away. I frankly expect better of a spy.

'How is our child queen fairing this morrow' Lysono greeted sweetly in Bastard Valyrian, his voice dripping with sourness, he hid it well indeed but not well enough for her not to notice.

It had not been for nothing that she had lived most of her girlhood in Lys amongst the sellswords and cut purses, and most of all the whores. Living amongst them made her think like one of them, and listen like one of them. Lys was more to her than a city she just dwelled in, and Valyrian became her mother tongue.

She nearly curtseyed at his grandeur but she restrained herself just in time. With any other man she would speak about the beauty of the ocean, ask him how he felt or simply reflect, but not him, he wanted to know what her next move was to be and naught else.

'I am fine thank you Ser' Daenyre replies courteously 'How much longer until we reach The shores of Qarth, I've been riding all week and now I can barely stand'

'Then sit' he chuckled as he drew two stools from the back each one simple and plain like two planks of wood and discreetly emblazoned, to the front of the deck. That was unexpected 'it is not to Qarth, it is to Astapor, that we are to go to'

'To purchase slaves?' Daenyre asked in dismay

Lysono arched a silver-gold eyebrow at that 'you disapprove?'

'No it's just that I don't believe that we need eunuchs to conquer Westeros' she added 'Aegon the Conqueror didn't have to why would we'

'Aegon the Conqueror had three grown dragons, you have one' he reasoned

'A mighty one at that' she added

'Balerion was the size of a village by the time he became Viserys I's rider, you will have been rotten and forgotten in the ground by the time Rhaenyras can match half of his scale, your blood and bones to the worms and maggots' he stated. Daenyre couldn't help and wince at his harsh wording

'I will not conquer a country of freedmen with slaves who've never held pikes in their lives' Daenyre insisted sounding almost childish in her defiance

At that a mocking laughter flashed in the lysene's lilac eyes, the self same lilac as Viserys' eyes, not only that but his hair as well, he would have looked just like him had Viserys been a woman, a pang of sadness washed over her once more when she remembered him and what happens to men that dreamed too hard overgrasped and fell as she remembered his death, but she quickly silenced that thought.

'Unsullied Daenyre, experienced emotionless unsullied not the peasants you've seen through your strolls in Kings Landing. That makes no matter, we are not going to purchase unsullied' he laughed 'what in the heavens sake would have made you think such things? No girl we are to go there to unite with the other 10,000 of our cavalry, the bravest and most valiant of our host previously bought to salvage the glorious city of Astapor against Some ruler or other of Yunkai, but now the feud and contract has ended and they are all ours' Lysono smiled

Daenyre pursed her lips she was happy to see that her spymaster was starting to respect her enough to entrust her with valuable reason and explanation but his condescending nature and japes would not be tolerated by her once she were to climb the steps.

'Twenty-thousand' Daenyre frowned 'forgive me, I am not skilled in warfare but I've always been skilled in Arithmetics, would perhaps an intelligent man like you please explain how we intend to conquer all seven kingdoms with an army a fourtheith of their size'

'A Westeros as chaotic as it is now will be plucked root and stem, and at this state, Your sire and Bittersteel would have salivated at the opportunity' Lysono smirked 'besides men of houses Peak and Ball to name a few will rise at the opportunity of backing the rightful seed of both Aegon III through your great-great grandmother Daena and Aegon IV himself, not through his falseborn son and of others' he added pointing to Blackfyre 'Your sword will by all means lay credence to your claim as who you say you are, as well as the fact that you had lived in Westeros from a tender age, so there are those that recognise you.

Those who recognise me are all dead. 'Will that be enough?' questioned Daenyre false hope hidden from her voice.

'And' Lysono started creeping closer 'powerful allies here and there, I am not master of whisperes for nothing my Princess, Mine by words and yours by blood, why who do you think supplied us with those ships'

'I don't know' confessed Daenyre there was no use trying to unravel her spymasters web of acquaintances, she knew as much.

'Why, the self-same self-made man that took your dragon prince under his wing, or rather to say under his fat golden arm' Lysono boasted finally glad that he seized the opportunity to once again show his queen his usefulness 'I wouldn't call him necessary your blood ally, but aye we have him, him and your uncle'

At that her her thin brows knitted together in confusion 'what uncle, I was unaware I had any relatives' Daenyre muttered in disbelief

'Oh but you have met him' the Lysene replied his full lips curling into a half-smile 'you will perhaps one day recount him, oh but you must for his aid would be of great use to you my little princess, what are bards' music without a composer?'

Before Daenyre could say anything else he left, leaving her pondering over the beautiful ocean once more and of dreams, dreams of the kingdoms lest a strategy as Princesses do.

What uncle? I only had one and my father ate him