Hi all! For those of you who may not know, I've decided to compile what used to be a series into one story, so this is an old chapter. Thankfully, it's the last of my old version. The following chapters will be new, which I'm looking forward to as I nearly went "Mad as a Targaryen" during the editing process - I mean, I rewrote everything in the third person.

As always, I only own my OCs.

Side note: If it's italicized quotes, the characters are speaking Valyrian. If it's bold, the characters are speaking Dothraki.

hāedar means "little sister"

mandia means "older sister"

Jaenarys hummed to herself, rubbing her eyes and huffing when she caught sight of the sun beginning to set. She'd been in the library all day, first distracted by the scrolls recounting prophets' dreams, in hopes of better understanding the visions she'd been plagued with every night. When her research surmounted to nothing, Jaenarys moved onto her true personal task; a more organized recording of the laws of Meereen, including the complete list of every slaver who'd ever lived in the recently freed city. Of course, such a history consumed nearly all of the library, and Jaenarys had only managed to transcribe three of the thousands of scrolls. The more she wrote, the more daunting it all seemed to be, but she supposed that was the point.

It'd been a fortnight since Daario departed for Yunkai. Jaenarys found comfort in what letters he sent, informing the Queen and her sister that the wave of former masters itching to own again had begun to settle once more.

"Jae! Jae!" A small voice shouted, the young princess looking around worriedly when she heard how frantically her name was being called.

"Vimor?" She responded, setting down her quill as the boy ran into view. She frowned when she noticed he was unaccompanied, wondering how he'd escaped his evening guardian. "Where is Ser Barristan? Does he know you've run off?"

"Yes, he knows, Jae." Vimor grinned back, jumping in excitement. "He was helping Robb train. He is much stronger now. He can hold his blade without shaking."

"That's truly wondrous -"

"And then, after training, Robb asked to take a bath!" Jaenarys paused at this. "He took a long one, Jae." Vimor beamed as bright as the sun before slipping into the common tongue. "He cut his hair! Snip, snip!" He mimicked the sounds of sheers.

"Robb… he…" Jaenarys trailed off. The Stark had only recently begun asking for baths, but the healers reported they'd never lasted longer than a handful of minutes "How long was his bath, Vimor?"

"Nearly an hour!" The boy grinned.

"And he asked for a haircut?"

"Yes. And his beard, it was… trimmed!" Vimor stated, pleased that he remembered the word. "His beard was trimmed. Big smile!"

Jaenarys was still in a state of shock, thrown off by what felt like a sudden change, even if she knew that deep down the man had been building to this moment. "Oh."

"Vimor, where did you run off to?" She jolted at the voice, the subject of their conversation coming into hearing range.

Vimor huffed in irritation."

"Told you! Finding Jae!" He shouted back, and it was moments like these where Jaenarys was reminded of the shy boy Vimor had once been, and how proud she was that he'd become comfortable enough to be so outspoken.

"Yes, well, I'm not familiar with this place like you are, so I'd appreciate - oh, Princess Jaenarys. Jae."

The young woman blinked over at the Northerner, her mouth slightly ajar as she took in his new appearance. Robb's hair had indeed been cut, now reaching just below his chin. It fell in dark-auburn curls, no longer tangled at the ends or laying limp and lifeless. His beard was the same length as Daario's, last Jaenarys had seen the sellsword - perhaps trimmed a touch shorter. Their walks around Meereen had helped to darken the man's complexion that he no longer could pass as a phantom.

For the first time since Robb arrived in Essos, he looked like the man Jaenarys had seen in her vision.

"Robb." She finally exhaled, smiling gently. "You look well."

The tips of his ears flushed, Jaenarys's stomach fluttering as though it were filled with dragons in flight. "Thank you." The man glanced around, expression suddenly full of remorse. "My apologies, I didn't mean to interrupt your work. I just wanted to make sure Vimor hadn't gone missing."

Jaenarys eyed the little boy, who smiled back innocently. "He just wanted to tell me the good news." She stroked the boy's hair and kissed his forehead, smiling when Vimor wrapped his arms around her middle - they were no longer thin as sticks, much to her joy. Soon enough he was releasing the princess and making a mad dash over to one of the shelves, running his fingers curiously over the scrolls and bound books filling them.

"Don't worry. I needed a break, anyway, I've been here all day." She flexed her writing hand subconsciously, not realizing how sore it was until she let go of the quill.

Robb gently took the limb with both of his hands, thumbs massaging her aching palm. He didn't look at her, only at his work. Jaenarys wondered if he could feel her blood pumping with excitement, her heart nearly beating out of her chest. Still, she willed herself to try and remain calm. Robb is a friend. A good, kind, handsome friend.

"Better?" The man asked, letting go as soon as Jaenarys nodded. "Good. You can't fight if your hand's cramped from too much writing."

"I suppose you have a point. Would you like to join me? I could use the distraction."

"How could I reject such a polite request from a princess?"

Jaenarys smiled to herself at his light teasing, another new development in their relationship. "Come, then." She led him to her chaise, sitting back with a sigh as she commanded herself to relax and simply enjoy the company of Vimor and Robb.

"What are you reading? Aside from what looks to be the entirety of this library's collection?" Robb asked, eyeing the piles of texts nearly toppling off the table.

"Well," Jaenarys cleared her throat, "most of these are books written by prophets, reporting everything they knew about dreams and visions. Some are the history of Meereen and Essos, which I read when I needed a break. And these," she gestured bitterly to the scrolls by her parchment, "are the earliest slave laws written in Meereen. Most of the texts in her have to do with slavery. I'm almost tempted to feed them to the fireplace, or perhaps ask Daavi to burn them to ash."

"So why haven't you?" The man asked.

"I want to read them all." She nodded to the scrolls. "I'm not just recording the laws, but also the names of those who created them. They will be remembered as monsters by those who come after us, and perhaps future generations will choose not to commit the same evil acts. But to be better, they must know every horrible truth of Meereen's history."

Robb hummed. "That's a lot of laws and names. It could take a long time. Not to mention, your hard work might be destroyed before you are even finished."

"Perhaps. But it'd be worth it." Jaenarys snarled. "Because I would know. I will burn their names and laws in my mind so clearly that I could transcribe them with my eyes closed. Like this cunt." She cleared her throat, only half-reading from her notes, "'Minas of House Pahl, who allowed for slaves to be whipped at the master's behest, unclothed to teach a permanent lesson. His descendant, Thesus Pahl, voted for the nailing of children to the mile posts as directions to Meereen. He in turn was nailed to a post around the city, his eyes plucked out by the birds.'" Jaenarys scoffed, then buried her head in her hands. "Sorry."

"Don't be." The princess glanced at her companion, who glowered at his feet. "You're right to be angry, to want to make sure their deeds are not forgotten. Nor should their transgressions be forgiven."

It was his tone that made Jaenarys pause, the self-loathing pouring out of him like poison released from a wound. "What is it that you are truly speaking off? The slavers, or -"

"My family. How I ruined us." Robb stared blankly out the window. "Not just my mother or my siblings, but Talisa. Our unborn babe. It isn't healthy, I know, but sometimes I can't help but wonder what might have happened had I honored the deal I made with Walder Frey. If I had, we wouldn't have so easily been betrayed. So many are dead because of my mistake. My siblings are left across the Narrow Sea to survive on their own, if they're even still alive." He shook his head before hunching back over, gazing at the floor. "If my father could see me now. 'The lone wolf dies, but the pack survives'." Robb scoffed. "I've failed him, his legacy, and my people. I cost us the war." He paused when Vimor dropped a book, the boy quickly picking it up and flipping it open with a curious expression. "I loved her. Truly and deeply. But I cannot forgive myself for what became of it."

"Robb?" Jaenarys asked, voice barely a whisper.
He looked over at her, startled. "Yes?"

With an inhale, the princess slowly covered his hand with her own. "Don't tarnish Talisa's memory. Allow yourself to remember all the reasons you loved her."

"It was selfish of me to love her." He argued. "And stupid. I broke an oath. I was weak."

Jaenarys shook her head, glancing over at Vimor. "Love isn't a weakness. It makes us vulnerable, yes, but if it's true, if you were happy, then it's worth it. Stop punishing yourself for the cruel decisions others make." She smiled warmly at Robb, carefully removing her hand from atop his to rest it on his shoulder instead. He relaxed under her touch. "Love can also be a strength, if you let it. It is for me. My love for my family keeps me human… it keeps me sane."

"What do you mean?" Robb asked as he lifted his head to look at her, blue eyes wide.

Jaenarys hummed thoughtfully, twisting so she was completely facing him. "What did you think when you first laid eyes on me?"

Robb paused, then exhaled shakily. "I suppose I saw a Targaryen, just as history described."

The princess nodded sadly. "I'm not blind to the madness that runs in my family. Inbreeding only fueled the fire." She wrinkled her nose in distaste, shaking her head. "My brother was proof enough. Sometimes, I'm afraid I see it in my sister. In me. I saw you, you know. The horrified expression on your face when you realized who my sister and I are. You didn't just think 'Targaryen'. You thought of everything that comes with my House's name."

"Jae-"

"I'm not just a Targaryen. I'm one of the last. I have a dragon, my sister has three. She wants to reclaim our throne. That will mean death, and dragonfire. I don't want to lose myself in the process." Jaenarys stared at the shelves to her left, mind drifting to every man she'd cut down. "I've killed."

"As have I." She frowned at Robb.

"That's different -"

"No. It isn't. We may have been fighting different battles, but there's probably more blood on my hands than yours." He huffed. "You're a Targaryen. Right down to your white hair and purple eyes. Yes, I was scared. I nearly shit myself. I thought I'd traded one cruel fate for an even worse one. I saw you with your swords and your anger, and I readied myself for the notion that I'd soon be dead, burned alive like my grandfather and uncle were." Robb then smiled, eyes twinkling. "But I wasn't. Your anger was not towards me, but the slavers. All you've been is kind to me. I admit, it took me far longer to see just how big your heart is. I wish it hadn't."

Before Jaenarys could respond, a yelp filled the library. "Jae, Jae!" Vimor shouted. The princess stood up and rushed over, nearly tripping over her dress in her haste.

"What's wrong?"

"Cut!" Vimor held up his finger, and Jaenarys frowned. It was only a thin papercut, barely bleeding. Still, it didn't stop her from leading the boy to her jug of water, ripping off a piece of her dress to help clean the wound.

As she dabbed at the cut, the princess glowered jokingly. "Give me the name of the book that did this. I shall slice its binding."

Vimor giggled at her dramatics. "No, Jae."

"Has the book apologized?"

"Yes!" He giggled, grinning as she ripped another piece of her dress to bandage his finger, Jaenarys pressing a kiss to it when she'd finished tying the makeshift wrap, just as she and her sister would do for each other when they were children.

"Better?" She asked

"Yes. Thank you, Jae." Vimor skipped off to the other end of the library while Jaenarys straightened, jumping when she realized Robb was hovering behind her. She frowned as the man stared at her like she was a stranger once more. But it was somehow different than the first time they'd met. His eyes weren't fearful, but alight with curiosity.

"What?" She asked sharply, crossing her arms self-consciously.

Robb smiled back. "There's absolutely nothing mad about you."

Jaenarys only hummed, knowing herself better than he did. "For now." She muttered back, watching Vimor as he continued perusing the library's many shelves.

Wood clacked against wood. The room was thick with hot air, Jaenarys and her opponent both breathing harshly. Her bones ached like never before, her body drenched in sweat. Her right hand throbbed, a reminder of the hard work she'd done in the library the day before. She grit her teeth and fought harder, trying to ignore the scene outside the exterior training arena.

Her sister had kept her word to Hizdahr zo Loraq. As Jaenarys sparred, the Unsullied were removing the former masters from their posts, loading their bodies in carts so they could be properly buried. Jaenarys understood why it was happening, but that didn't mean she had to agree with Daenerys's decision. The princess didn't like acquiescing to the requests of former slavers.

Jorah clipped her in the ribs and Jaenarys grunted, rubbing the red mark he surely left behind. "Focus, little dragon."

"I'm trying."

"No." He grunted as he blocked her attack. "You're distracted. The moment your mind takes you out of the fight is the moment you lose." Jaenarys yelped as he swung up, quick to parry. Jorah sighed and stepped back, lowering his weapon. The princess did the same, fixing her hair as the Ser crossed his arms. "What's on your mind?"

"Loraq. The slavers. Yunkai. Take your pick." She sniped bitterly, going over to the table to pour herself some water. She did the same for her friend, who accepted it with a quiet thanks.

"I suppose it wouldn't do you any good to be reminded that all three are out of your control?" He questioned with a warm smile. Jaenarys scoffed. "The only thing you can control at this moment is the swing of your blade."

"Is it really a blade if it's made of wood?" She questioned cheekily. Jorah rolled his eyes and wiped at his forehead with a cloth. The princess did the same, rubbing it on her arms and the back of her neck as well. "One more round?" Jaenarys asked as she tossed her rag back onto the table.

Jorah sighed and nodded, walking back to the center of the arena. The princess joined him, spinning her sword behind her back before holding it up in position. With a quirk of his lips, Jorah shifted his weight and lunged. Jaenarys parried and spun, blocking once more as he went for her throat. She turned as he attacked, their blades clashing behind her back as Jorah twisted in return. One well placed kick to the back of Jaenarys's knee had her crumpling, and it was sheer luck that she caught his blade with her own before it came down on her neck again. She rolled over her shoulder and onto her feet, body leaning forward as she met his attack head on.

"Good. Remember, focus on only what you can control - yourself."

Jaenarys nodded at his words, lifting her sword. Jorah grinned and attacked. Three swings later and they'd disarmed each other, their wooden swords on the ground. Unsure of what to do next, the princess shrugged. "Tie?"

"I fear it's the best either of us will do." Jorah picked up the blades and went to put them away. Jaenarys returned to the table, pouring them more water. Getting a short whiff of her own scent, the girl gagged a little - it was as though she hadn't bathed in a fortnight, though she supposed the smell came with practicing with a sword for the entirety of a morning. "I think you're in dire need of a bath, young Princess." Jorah teased.

"You're probably right." Jaenarys laughed, then groaned as it jostled her sore ribs. "Would we be able to cancel our training tomorrow?"

"Of course. I don't want you to burn out, or your sister will have my head."

"I'm a dragon, remember? I don't burn."

Jorah snorted. "Go bathe, Jae." She bowed her head and started to walk away. "Jaenarys?"

"Yes, Jorah?" She asked, turning around. He sent her a soft smile, eyes shining.

"I'm proud of you, young dragon."

Blushing at his words, Jaenarys hurried out of the room and back to her chambers. Too exhausted to want to be around anyone else, she prepared her bath alone. It took a while, but it was worth it as she sank into the steaming water, her muscles already relaxing. She dipped underneath and rose back up, rubbing sweet-scented oils into her wet hair before massaging it into any part of her skin she could reach. Davvi chirped from the balcony and Jaenarys grinned, watching the dragon stick her head through the doorway.

"I am fine, love. Only sore."

As she spoke to her dragon, her mind drifted to the dream she'd had the previous night.

Jaenarys smiled up at the sky, arms crossed under her head. The blades of grass tickled her bare skin, the sun warming her to the bone. A dragon flew high above her, but it's not Meraxes. Her scales are gray, her wings tinted green. She dipped into the water and back out, spinning through the air to shake off the excess liquid. Davvi landed beside her, purring. She was somehow large, body as long as the boulders behind her. The dragon snuffed, smoke billowing out of her nose. Jaenarys smiled and petted her snout, stroking soothingly.

"You are good with her."

Jaenarys hummed and rolled her head away from Davvi. Rhaenys smiled back, propping herself up with one hand while the other rested on Meraxes's paw. "She makes it easy." Jaenarys responded. "It's as though I've known her my whole life, and the one before. I can't imagine my life without her, now, and I can't help but wonder what my childhood would've been like had she been by my side. Probably easier. Less lonely, even with Dany by my side. But Viserys -"

"Was no dragon." Rhaenys cut in. "A would-be conqueror, one my Aegon would have despised. He was weak. You are strong."

"I try to be."

Rhaenys rose, holding up her hand. "Come." In a blink of an eye they were on top of a mountain, their dragons flying around them. A large city stood before them, a wall separating it from the sea. It was no place Jaenarys had come across yet, though there was still so much she hadn't seen. "Westeros. King's Landing, to be specific. There." Rhaenys lifted the princess's hand and pointed it towards a formidable castle. "The Red Keep. Home to the Kings and Queens of Westeros, and our beloved Iron Throne." She scoffed. "My brother and sister cared more for it than the people we were meant to lead."

"You were a good ruler." Jaenarys complimented the woman who'd been occupying her dreams. "I read about you. Viserys made sure Dany and I at least knew where we came from. You were always my favorite of your siblings. Your memory helped shape me, I think."

Rhaenys smiled and cupped her cheek. "I know."

They stood in silence, and then Jaenarys turned to her. "If I asked one question about all this, would you answer truthfully?"

"It depends on the question."

"What makes me so special?" She finally asked. "I am the third born. I have no interest in ruling, or even setting foot in Westeros. So why me?"

"Why not you?" Rhaenys countered. The princess glowered in return. "You never needed more."

At that, Jaenarys paused. "I don't understand -"

Rhaenys shushed her, taking the princess's hands in her own. "All you ever wanted, you knew you had. You crave adventure, yes. But you don't wish to rule, and cover it up with aspirations of returning to a home you never knew. All you have is enough for you, and that is something rare." She smiled. "That is what makes you special." Jaenarys chewed on her bottom lip. "You will understand in time. You are good, my Jaenarys. Do not forget this."

"Jae?" The princess gasped at the cooling bathwater in shock, back in the present. "It's Missandei."

"Come -" Jaenarys coughed. "Come in."

The door to her chambers clicked open and her friend entered, bowing to Davvi who nodded her head back. Jaenarys smiled at the sight, though her glee faded when she saw the look on Missandei's face. "Deia?"

The translator inhaled sharply, then her face crumpled. "I'm so sorry, Jae. It's - it's about Jorah." Jaenarys paled and stepped shakily out of the tub, slipping on her robe, listening in horror as her dear friend explained what had transpired.

Jorah. Spy. Traitor. Liar.

Jaenarys stood at her sister's side, refusing to look down at the entrance of the throne room. Her sister exuded raw anger - the younger of the twins hadn't seen her like this since Qarth, when they were nearly refused by the merchants. It was the promise of fire and blood, of death and suffering. This was rage wrapped in pain.

Jaenarys only felt broken. Lost. Confused. Angry. She wanted to believe it was a lie, even though Ser Barristan had no reason to lead the Targaryen twins astray. The parchment containing Jorah's pardon was real, and so was his betrayal.

Was this how Robb felt, when those closest to him proved themselves false?

Footsteps marched towards them, continuing up the stairs. They stopped as Ser Barristan and Grey Worm came forward. It was only then that Jaenarys looked down at the man she thought was a friend, their training session feeling as though it was a lifetime ago.

"Why did the usurper pardon you?" Daenerys questioned, voice steady.

"If we could speak alone -"

"No." She bit, and Jaenarys closed her eyes. "We will speak here. Explain it to us."

"Who do you think sent this to Meereen?" Jorah posed in return, voice raspy. "Who profits? This is the work of Tywin Lannister. He wants to divide us. If we're fighting each other, we're not fighting him."

"The pardon was signed the year we met." Jaenarys stated plainly, reopening her eyes to stare the Mormont down.

"Why were you pardoned?" Her sister asked when more words failed to spill from her lips. "Unless you're saying this document was forged."

"It is not forged."

Jaenarys's breath hitched, and her lips trembled. Still, she stood tall as Daenerys continued her interrogation. "Why, then?"

"I sent letters to Varys." Jorah confessed. "The spymaster of King's Landing."

"What was the content of these letters?"

"Information." Another stab to Jaenarys's heart, sharper than any blade.

"What information?" Daenerys replied with a clear - but dangerous - tone.

"When you, Jaenarys, and Viserys arrived in Pentos." Jorah's voice wavered. "His plan to marry you to Khal Drogo. When you were married. When your brother died."

"You told him I was carrying Drogo's child?"

Jorah inhaled sharply. "I -"

"Yes or no?"

"Khaleesi."

"Don't call me that. Did you tell him I was carrying Drogo's child?"

"Yes."

Daenerys rose, brushing past her younger twin, fingers trailing over Jaenarys's, offering a brief comfort. "That wine merchant tried to poison me because of your information." The Queen of Meereen began her descent.

"I stopped you from drinking his wine." Jorah tried to defend himself.

Daenerys. "Because you knew it was poisoned."

"I suspected."

"You betrayed me from the first. You betrayed us."

"Forgive me." Jorah pleaded. "I never meant - please, Khaleesi. Little Princess. Forgive me." He begged, but Jaenarys could no longer look at him, choosing instead to focus on the stone archway across from her sister's throne.

"You sold my secrets to the man who killed our father -"

"I have protected you -"

"And stole our brother's throne."

"Fought for you, killed for you -"

"And you want me to forgive you?" Daenerys spat out.

Jorah sighs. "I have loved you."

"Love?" The Queen scoffed. "Love? How can you say that to me? Any other man, and I would have you executed. But you, I don't want you in my city dead or alive. Go back to your masters in King's Landing. Collect your pardon if you can."

Jorah's belt clinked as he attempted to walk up the stairs. "Daenerys, please -"

Jaenarys could hear the drawing of blades, Grey Worm and Ser Barristan arming themselves to protect the Targaryen twins. "Don't ever presume to touch me again or speak my name. The same for my sister. You have until dusk to collect your things and leave this city. If you're found in Meereen past the break of day, I'll have your head thrown into Slaver's Bay. Go. Now."

Jaenarys closed her eyes again, flinching as Jorah's footsteps faded from the throne room. As soon as Daenerys exhaled, the younger twin collapsed into herself, shoving her Queen sister away. Before anyone could stop the princess, she was rushing out the back of the room, ignoring her sister and Missandei as they called after her worriedly.

With tears blinding her vision she stumbled through the winding halls, forcing herself onwards even as she used her hands to keep her from tripping into stone walls and pillars. Eventually, Jaenarys found the stables. Terrax neighed as soon as he saw her, and guilt flared in her chest when she struggled to recall the last time she truly rode the black horse. Sure, she'd brushed him everyday and took him out for long walks, but it wasn't the same as when they were with the Dothraki. "Let's ride, Terrax." She whispered wetly, laughing when the horse's ears flicked happily.

Saddling Terrax, she led him out of his stables, mounting with well-practiced ease before urging him to trot outside, steadily building up speed until they were galloping up towards the green hills behind the Great Pyramid. Jaenarys's tears flowed freely as she sobbed into the wind, wondering how she could have trusted Jorah so blindly. What made her even give him that chance, after years of not letting anyone in for the sake of protecting Daenerys? Was it because she thought him honest? He'd opened up to them so much. Or maybe she was just happy to not be alone in her mission to keep Dany safe. She was finally free, she could ride, explore, even if it was only ever briefly and in close range to her twin.

Jaenarys couldn't stop the scream as it burst from her out of her lips. If she were a dragon - like Davvi - fire would have streamed out instead.

All she could do was ride and sob, until she and Terrax reached the peak of the hills overlooking Meereen, the desert, and Slavery's Bay - they'd have to rename it. As Jaenarys and Terrax caught their breaths, the princess watched as something flew towards them, knowing deep in her soul who it was.

Davvi soared above them, rustling the bushes and grass wildly until the dragon landed beside the horse and the princess, curling up. Jaenarys slid off Terrax's back, letting him graze as she approached her scaled friend. Feeling an urge to just climb, the young woman slowly ascended Davvi's side to sit atop her as she did Meraxes in her dreams. Davvi stayed on the ground, breathing deeply. Neither would fly that day, but Jaenarys was more than happy to lay on the dragon, trying not to dwell on the memory of the man who'd taken her and her sister for fools.