A/N Katarina learns about the Dragon God, and Daenerys flies to the Edge of the Vale to find a very different threat that she never would have imagined. Might be a bit short, we'll see. Enjoy!

Chapter 7

The wind was strong and stung the Dragon's Queen's cheeks as she struggled to hold onto Drogon's spines, her body pressed into the hot flesh that kept her warm. Dragons were fire made flesh. Daenerys could definitely feel his fire radiating from her dragon, pouring into her and sharpening her senses.

They flew through the countryside with flashes of green and greys of the trees and mountains turning to blurs. The ride was peaceful, and for a moment she almost forgot what she had set out to do. Almost. Fire burned in her veins as she thought of the unruly savages terrorizing her people. They had nearly killed her husband's very flesh and blood. She didn't understand how everyone expected her to do nothing while they ran rampant on her lands. She was a Queen, and with that title came terrible responsibility. She realized how lonely that could be when it seemed no one else was on her side.

Her mind went to Jon, standing on that balcony and watching her fly away across the countryside. She had not seen him but she could feel him, could sense him and his worry. The way they had left things burnt her to the quick, the way he had walked away from her in such a subdued and defeated manner. How he had averted his eyes, as if he were afraid he would not recognize the woman he loves in the violet depths. Daenerys had learned long ago that love was the death of duty as it had almost gotten them all killed during the War for the Dawn. It caused complications, distractions. As Queen, she would not allow such things to recur.

But she made a promise to herself that she would go straight to him when she returned. She would make him understand. And she would remind him that she is still the same woman he fell in love with years ago.

But first, she had to be a Queen.

…

King's Landing

The fire blazed in the hearth, casting shadows along the walls of Katarina's dimly lit chambers. She sat curled up in the winged chair next to the fire, thumbing through the weathered pages of the book Sam had lent to her. She was intrigued by the stories of her ancestors and their quest to conquer Westeros, all by the power of three mighty dragons. None could stand before them. They were fearless. They had paved the way for her family and created a dynasty that her parents were now upholding. A legacy of fire and blood. Power.

She briefly imagined herself as a Dragonrider, slaying her foes and claiming glory for the name Targaryen. But the thought didn't quite sit well with her, in fact she felt a sick feeling inside as images of blood and fire played before her mind's eye. She felt for the many lives that had been lost at the hands of her predecessors, and a feeling of cold dread gripped her. Her grandfather, the Mad King had murdered lots of people, and had even intended to burn the entire capitol down with all its people, including his own family, inside it. He had been slain for it.

She thought of her mother, the revered Queen of Westeros and Mother of Dragons. She knew her mother was a fierce and fearless leader, and that she had spilled her fair share of blood and burnt a great many corpses to get to where she is. Katarina frowned as she closed Sam's book, releasing a cloud of dust that made her cough. She knew her family had a long history of bloodshed. She had always admired her ancestors and their dragons. But now she wasn't so sure. She could sense something dark in the air, and a cold chill ran down her spine. Then she thought of Sam, acting rather strange when she'd come to visit him the other day in his study.

What had he been deciphering? She didn't know why, but she had a strong feeling it had something to do with her family. She had to know.

It was late into the night, and way past time to be wandering around the castle and she'd probably get into a lot of trouble if she was caught. But that wasn't going to stop her. She climbed out of the chair and went to her bed. She reached under her pillow and felt her fingers close around something cold.

Sam's spare key to his study. She had nicked it from his desk the other day when he hadn't been paying attention. His desk was so cluttered and unorganized he wasn't likely to notice. She padded to her door and carefully opened it, peeking out into the dimly lit corridor. Empty. And deathly quiet. The castle slept, and here she was sneaking around in the shadows, all her better instincts screaming at her to go back to her chambers. But the adrenaline of doing something forbidden pushed her onward.

She hoped with all her might that she wouldn't run into any guards, and for a time she didn't. She was nearly to Sam's study when she heard lowered voices nearby. Heart pounding in her ears, she froze. Two large shadows were approaching, and she could hear their heavy footsteps.

"All quiet?" one of them said.

"Aye."

"Fancy some wine?"

Katarina pressed her back against the cold stone wall as she listened. There was a brief pause.

"Where'd you get that? That's-"

"Arbor Red. The finest Dornish wine there is. The Queen's favorite."

"She'll have our heads if she knows…"

"That's why it's a good thing the Queen's away, now isn't it?"

Katarina rolls her eyes at their conversation. She dared to peek around the corner to see them with their backs to her, one of them drinking from a wine flagon. Idiots, she thought. And these were the men that were supposed to guard the castle and protect them? Maybe she could sneak around them. If she was quick and quiet…

They were still talking when she slipped away from the wall, holding her breath as she tiptoed quickly toward the other end of the corridor, when-

"Oi!" one of them calls out stopping her in her tracks. Dammit! "You there, girl! Come here."

Katarina swallows and slowly turns to face them. The one who had been drinking from the flagon eyes her with watery, squinty eyes.

"It's the princess!" his companion hisses to him.

"I know who she is," the drunkard says, his words slightly slurred. "What are you doing out of bed, little princess?" He swankers up to her and she instinctively takes a step back. "You know you shouldn't be wandering about the castle at this hour."

"I…" Katarina wracked her brain for an excuse. "I couldn't sleep...fancied a walk."

The two guards exchange looks and she can tell they don't believe it.

"Is that so?" the besotted one comes nearer to her, his face looking sinister in the torchlight. She swallows. "You Targs all think you're entitled, don't you? Off to bed with ya! I don't have time to play games with children."

"But you have time to steal my mother's wine?" Katarina retorts, starting to get angry. How dare he call her a child! That seemed to jolt him. His eyes widened and he stumbled away from the princess, his mouth opening and closing.

"I-I don't know what you mean-"

"I believe you know exactly what the princess means."

All three of them turn to see Lord Tyrion approaching them, his short arms behind his back and his face set in a stern line.

"What is that you have under your cloak?" Tyrion demands, coming to stand beside Katarina.

"It's nothing, my Lord," the man fumbles, his eyes darting to the floor.

"Give it here, or I'll have you both flogged in the streets," Tyrion threatens, holding his hand out.

The two guards exchange glances once more, before the drunken one lets out an exasperated sigh and hands over the flagon. Tyrion pulls off the nozzle and lifts it to his nose.

"Ah, a fine Arbor red," he says, almost wistfully. "A favorite of the Queen's. I'm sure she'll be quite pleased to hear how you came to have it."

Their eyes widened in fear, both knowing full well the wrath Daenerys would surely unleash upon them for stealing from her.

"My Lord, please…" the one who hadn't spoken much was pleading.

"Please what?" Tyrion fought a grin as he watched the men cower before him like a pair of frightened geese. He waved his hand dismissively. "Never you mind. I suggest you get back to your duties and I'll forget what I saw here."

"But the princess-"

"The princess is with me," Tyrion interjects with a firm glare.

The guards dip their heads to the tiny lord and scramble away.

When they are gone Tyrion turns with a mischievous smirk to Katarina. "Well, that was interesting!"

"Thank you for that. I don't know what would've happened had you not come."

"They're harmless. Though I'll have to speak with Jon about the patrols," Tyrion casts a disapproving glance in the direction the guards had just disappeared. "I don't feel so safe with those two idiots guarding the castle." He turns to Katarina.

"Now, what are you doing wandering around the castle? You should be in bed." He tries to sound stern, but is failing miserably. His green eyes gleam with mischief.

"I fancied a walk," Katarina blurts at once, her pitiful excuse sounding ridiculous even to her.

Tyrion stares at her, his brows arched, and Katarina itches under his unwavering gaze. She swears the Imp can see right through people and tell they are lying.

Finally he speaks. "Whatever you're doing, I don't want to know. I've learned with you Targaryens that the less I know, the better for me. But be careful. If you get caught, I may not be around to rescue you again."

"I think I can take care of myself, Lord Tyrion," Katarina says assertively, her spine straight as an arrow, much like Daenerys.

"I for one do not doubt it. Princess," Tyrion bows to her.

Katarina nods, the hint of a smile teasing her lips as she turns away and disappears around the corridor. Tyrion waits until she is gone and then looks at the flask in his hand.

"Oh, what the hell." He raises it to his lips and takes a hearty gulp.

…

Katarina reaches Maester Tarly's door without any other confrontations, and casting a quick look around her, she turns the key in the lock.

She slips into the dark study and waves her torch about, casting an orange glow along the shelves. Her eyes adjust and she moves further into the study, going straight for the row she had seen Sam putting the books away. She hovers her torch along the shelf, her eyes scanning the titles for anything that may jump out at her.

"What were you looking for, Sam?" she whispers under her breath. She pauses when a particular title catches her eye.

The secret behind the Doom of Valyria

Katarina can't explain it, but somehow she knows this is it. She reached for the book and took it to Sam's desk. She sat down in his worn leather chair and opened the ancient tome. The pages were brittle and curled at the edges. She had learned about the mysterious Doom that had wiped out her family's ancestral home, but no one alive had ever been able to explain the strange phenomenon. It was the reason her ancestors had decided to leave Essos and make Westeros their new home in a string of conquests.

She skimmed over the pages, mainly finding information she already knew. Valyria was home to the ancient dragons and their dragonlords. Much mystery surrounded the magic that seemed to live within its walls, the very magic that was said to run in the veins of it's people. Her family. Katarina wondered if that were true. There was surely some sort of magic that allowed Targaryens to bond with dragons. But why was Sam so interested in the history of Valyria? And why had he tried to hide it from her? There had to be something she was missing.

She kept looking and almost turned past a page that had a paragraph torn from it. She read the opening paragraph and gasped. God of Beasts? Father of Dragons? This she didn't remember from any of her lessons. But apparently the lord of light had created this monster to be his champion in a war against the Gods. Katarina's heart started racing as she began to read the last line to herself.

"The Lord of Light opened the skies and released his wrath onto Valyria, hoping to consume the blasphemous beast he never should have created. But Alduin was able to escape, and will return for his final reckoning."

Then nothing. The rest was torn out. A dark feeling of foreboding swept through her body as she stared at the page, reading it to herself over and over. Did Sam believe in this prophecy? Had he been trying to figure out a way to destroy the Dragon God? Was all of it true, that he would return?

Katarina did not know the answer. But she had a very bad feeling about it all. She had a bad feeling that they were doomed.

…

Edge of the Vale

Roric of Ash expertly sharpens his blade where he sits by the fire, tongue between his teeth in concentration. Made from the bone of a mountain lion, it was his most prized possession. A lot of blood it had spilled. Served him well, it has. Noises from the village drifted to him.

His men admired the fancy weapons they looted from the Crows. Starks. Roric didn't know much about the people in stone castles blindly following some king or queen they haven't met, but he knew the Starks had quite the reputation in the lands of Westeros. Wolves, they were called. Roric remembered the young red headed Wolf he had met. If it was true that Starks had wolf blood, he could definitely see it in her. The way she had fought back against his men, knowing perfectly well they could have easily killed her.

"The fancy folks have nice shit," one of his men, Eagle Eye, grunted as he turned a thin sword, its steel catching the fire light. "I could cut a bear in half in one swing with this one."

"What kind of steel is that?" Skullface inquired.

"Dunno, don't look like any kind of steel I ever saw."

Roric let their conversation fade to background noise as he continued to admire his blade. Children ran around, dueling each other with sticks. Women laughed and danced around the fire. These were his people. A disassembled group of three tribes that had once warred over territory, and Roric had managed to unify them into one. They chose him as their leader out of fear and respect, because it was his vision to take back the land of Westeros that had once belonged to their people before it was conquered. In the days of the first men, when there were no rulers. When people simply lived. When people were free.

There would come a time when they would not settle for living on the outskirts and shadows, foraging for their survival. Roric would see to it that his people had a better future. And he didn't care how many people he had to kill to make that happen.

Raised, belligerent voices drew his attention and he glanced up to see two of his men standing, chests puffed out and hands balled into fists. People were standing around, cheering loudly and goading the men on. Roric grinned with amusement as the first punch was thrown. He had no idea what they were fighting about, probably some spilled ale if he had to guess, but it was quite entertaining. His people were getting rowdy, and Roric just sat and watched as his men pummeled each other.

Finally, he sighed and got up to his feet. He walked through the crowd and they all seemed to scurry away from him, eyes wide in fear. Roric cared about his people, but they all knew his violent temper did not discriminate. They had seen that first hand when he plunged his bone dagger into the back of his own right before their eyes. All to save a crow.

Roric thrust his hands between the two men and pushed them forcefully apart, one of them stumbling to the ground.

"Enough of this," Roric says lazily. "You'll bring a pack of wolves straight into our village with all the ruckus."

"Let them come," Skullface says with a smirk. "Could be good eatin, and a hell of a fight."

"Not here. Not among our women and children, you idiot."

Skullface loses his smirk and clears his throat, averting his eyes from Roric's ice blue ones.

A tall, bearded fellow named Scar steps forward, the hint of a challenge in his eyes. Roric does not move and regards him nonchalantly.

"You killed one of your own to save a crow," he growls. "What say you, Roric of Ash?"

A hush sweeps around the village as all eyes are on their leader, waiting with bated breath for his response.

Roric continues to stare at Scar, his blue eyes chips of ice. "I should think I need not explain myself to you, Scar. Are you questioning me?"

"Aye, I am. They are the enemy. You showed weakness to the enemy. How can you continue to lead us?"

Roric looked around at his people. "Is there anyone here who agrees with this man?" Silence met his words. "Is there anyone who thinks me unfit to lead you? Speak now."

No one said a word. Scar scowled, his fists balled at his sides. He spat at the ground beside Roric's feet. "None of them will speak because they're all cowards. But Scar of Black Mountain is no coward."

"No you're not."

In one swift movement Roric's dagger found its way into Scar's throat, flung from his fingers so quickly he never saw it coming. Scar gurgled as blood poured from his wound, his dark eyes wide. The large man fell to his knees, his blood soaking the ground. Roric looked down at him, his face expressionless. He pressed his boot to Scar's chest and knocked him over, where his eyes stared blankly at the night sky.

Two of his men silently stepped forward to drag Scar's body away from the watching eyes. Roric wordlessly began to wipe the blood from his dagger. Such a waste. Scar had been a formidable warrior.

"Roric of Ash."

Heads turned toward the strange and unfamiliar voice. The crowd parted to reveal an elderly woman with long and tangled dark hair. She was dressed in rags and had a foreign look about her, a face not of these lands. Her voice spoke of a different tongue. Spears and swords were pointed at her, but she didn't seem to flinch. Roric narrowed his eyes at the strange woman.

"Who are you?"

"Who I am matters not," the woman speaks in her foreign accent. "But I know who you are, Roric of Ash."

"How do you know me?"

The woman does not answer and Roric steps closer to her, his face taking on a menacing expression but still the woman does not flinch. He can sense something around her, something dark. But he can't quite place it. And he doesn't like that she seems to know who he is.

"You will answer me, or I will-"

"Kill me?" the woman laughs, and her laugh sends chills down Roric's spine, and that is something that has never happened before. "You may do so, young one. I have already died."

Roric stares at her, and she stares back, her eyes black and unreadable. What does she mean?

Eagle Eye glowers at her, his hand tightening around his sword. "She's a witch, Roric! I can smell her dark magic. We must kill her before she has time to hex us!"

A murmur of fear breaks out among his people. Women quickly usher their children inside their huts. His men look at Roric expectantly, waiting for his command. But Roric finds himself intrigued by the woman.

"Why have you come?" he demands.

"I travel far from Essos, on my way to see the Queen," the woman answers. She tilts her head to the sky. "But its seems I need not travel far…"

Roric follows her gaze to the sky but sees nothing. What is this witch playing at? He thrusts his blade against her throat. "Give me a reason I shouldn't kill you."

"Because I have seen you, Roric of Ash. And I know who you are."

Roric's eyes widen, and he can feel a strange power radiating from her. He knows that she is not lying. But before he has time to question her further a loud screech in the distance makes everyone's heads turn once more to the sky.

"The Queen approaches," the woman says stoically, her eyes skyward.

Then chaos erupts.

A large shadow looms over them, growing larger.

"DRAGON!" someone shouts, and screams ring out into the clearing as the gigantic beast swoops down upon them, sending a great gust of wind over them with its mighty wings.

"Get down!" Roric orders, dropping his body to the ground as the dragon lets out a mighty roar, deafening his ears. He sees a flash of orange and smells smoke and can feel an intense heat coming over him as people scream and run in all directions. He lost sight of the old woman. There was no way she had been able to flee that quickly.

Roric looks up to see that the treeline surrounding their village is ablaze, the flames eating away at the trees at a surprising speed. But the village is unscathed. Where is the dragon?

He hears it before he sees it. Another earth shattering roar as a large shadow looms over them, engulfing the entire small village. The beast lands in the clearing, flapping its wings and his people scatter, tripping over each other in their haste to flee from the dragon. But they are surrounded by flames and have nowhere to run. Roric can see silver hair and slowly gets up to his feet to meet the fiery violet gaze of the Queen, where she sits on the dragon's back. Anger suddenly burns within him instead of fear. The dragon lets out a roar, its massive jaws parted to reveal large, deadly teeth. Roric couldn't help but admire them. They'd make for nice weapons.

The dragon huffs out a puff of smoke and lowers its head to allow the small woman on its back to climb down. The rumors had flown about her beauty, but Roric could care less about how striking she truly was. He stood before her, his chin lifted to meet her violet gaze.

She stops a couple feet from Roric and clasps her gloved hands in front of her, regarding him with resentment. "You are their leader, I presume?"

"I am."

"Then you should show honor before your people, and bow to your Queen." Daenerys commands.

Roric does no such thing. "I do not bow before any Queen. And neither do my people."

Her eyes glint dangerously and Roric can tell he'd struck a nerve. "No? I confess myself...disappointed. I had come here willing to allow you and your people to live peacefully. I cannot have you terrorizing my citizens and living in open rebellion of my rule."

"You speak of peace, yet you arrive on the back of a dragon and burn our trees to the ground?" Roric retorts, his tone measured.

Daenerys gestures her hand around the village. "Your village still stands, unburnt. I need not harm any of you, if you bend the knee to me now. You shall no longer live as outlaws in my land. I shall grant you a castle and make you a Lord. You shall live and prosper under my rule and not behave like savages."

"Under your rule? I told you, we do not live under any rule except my own. We serve no King or Queen. And we do not accept your hand outs." Roric spat at her feet, and her face went white as a ghost, her lips turning pale in her anger. Roric could almost see fire burning within her. But she spoke with clarity and determination.

"Then you shall answer for your crimes against the Realm."

And Roric was ready to accept his fate. He would rather die on his own soil a free man, then sell himself and his people as slaves to some foreign ruler. Then a voice spoke out. The woman.

"You should accept the Dragon Queen's offer, Roric of Ash."

The old woman steps from the cloud of smoke into the clearing, her eyes glittering mysteriously.

She continues. "You were never meant to live on the outskirts as animals. You should return to the place of your ancestors, and claim your birthright."

Roric stared at her, confusion seizing him. Birthright? What was this mad woman on about? Daenerys eyed the strange woman with narrowed eyes. "Who are you?" Roric had almost forgotten she was there.

The woman met Daenerys's gaze, and something dark passed behind her black eyes.

For a moment she didn't speak, then the next words from her lips seemed to be a riddle. "When the sun rises in the west, and sets in the east. When the seas go dry, when the mountains blow in the wind like leaves."

Daenerys's eyes change and Roric could swear he caught a flash of fear in them. It was quickly gone, to be replaced by recognition and disbelief. Her mouth opens wordlessly, not seeming able to find the words.

"I am Mirri Maz Duur," the witch speaks. "And I have come for you, Khaleesi."

Daenerys is shaking her head, her violet eyes wide. Roric looks between the two women, growing more and more confused by the second but he remains silent. This is not a conversation he intends to interrupt.

"No...no...this is impossible," Daenerys finally speaks, her voice hushed. "I...I killed you. I saw you burn."

"You may have burned my body, Khaleesi, but you did not burn my soul," the witch responds cryptically.

Daenerys still shakes her head, trying to tell herself this isn't real. It can't be. She had watched this woman burn on her husband's pyre! Had heard her screams...how could this be? Yet she knew that death didn't seem to always be permanent. She had seen it first hand when her beloved dragon child, Viserion had died and come back to life. She had seen it in the scars on Jon's chest. Fear gripped her as she realized that somehow, someway, this witch she had murdered had survived. And she had come for her.

"What is it that you want?" Daenerys dared to ask.

"I think you know what it is I want, Dragon Queen," says Mirri. "What I want is to be able to leave this cursed land and have the rest I deserve. And I shall have it, with your dying breath, I shall have it."

Fire burns in Daenerys's eyes and Drogon growls behind her. "I killed you once before."

"And I have returned. And if you kill me again, so I will return again. We are linked, Khaleesi. And only with your death, will my soul be freed."

Daenerys is overcome with rage. This is the woman who had tricked her and cost her the lives of her husband and unborn child. The woman who had cursed her with a barren womb until the death of her dragon had somehow broken it. She still was haunted by that terrible price. This woman had taken so much from her, and now she dared to threaten her very own life!

Drogon could sense his mother's rage. His orange eyes were fixed on the witch, a low rumbling coming from his throat. Daenerys forgot there were others present, that the arrogant leader of the rebellious mountain clans still stood close to her. Right now, her rage burned only for Mirri Maz Duur.

She opened her mouth to speak the Valyrian command, "Dracarys!"

She did not care if the witch came back in another body, did not care if her life was truly linked to hers. She only wanted to see her burn right here and now.

But before Drogon could let loose his fire breath, the witch had started chanting, her hand outstretched. Drogon flipped onto his back, wriggling and squirming, his claws raking against the ground and creating large ruts. Everyone stepped back and watched in horror as Mirri continued to chant, stepping closer to the dragon. He screeched in agony, and his cries tore at Dany's heart. She stared wide eyed as her dragon writhed in pain, under some foul spell that Mirri was instigating.

"Stop it!" Daenerys cried out, taking a step toward the witch. "Stop it, please!"

Mirri stops chanting and Drogon stopped moving, his large chest heaving. Daenerys knelt down beside him, running her hand along his hot flesh as if to soothe him.

The people of the Hill tribe stared at Mirri, some in fear-others in awe. Daenerys had seen an ice spear take down one of her dragons right before her eyes. But never had she seen anything like this. She turned her eyes to the witch.

"What are you?" she whispers, her voice shaky.

Mirri does not answer. She simply looks at Daenerys with that silent, unreadable expression. Daenerys turns back to Drogon and mutters to him in soft, but urgent tones. Roric is standing close enough to hear that she is speaking in some sort of strange language. The dragon seems to respond to the Queen's words, and visibly relaxes, his orange eyes blinking once.

Daenerys climbs onto his back and casts a dark look at the witch. "I will kill you for this. And I will find a way to make sure you stay dead."

And with that, Drogon spreads his massive wings and takes flight, carrying the silver haired queen far into the sky and out of sight.

Roric slowly turns to Mirri, his mind still cloudy from all he had witnessed. The dragon had surely scared him as much as he had tried to hide, but this woman had managed to subdue the fearsome beast singlehandedly with a simple hand gesture and a string of nonsense. He didn't know what sort of dark magic she possessed, but it truly scared him. And he feared almost nothing.

He got down to his knees and bowed his head before her, and his people gradually did the same. Surrounded by dwindling fire from the the dragon, smoke billowing up into the sky, everyone bowed before this powerful witch. Mirri lifted her chin, her dark eyes scanning over them all.

"Stand, all of you," she quietly commands. "No man bends his knee before me. Rise."

Roric gets back to his feet with uncertainty, his eyes fastened to her face. "Mirri Maz Duur...you are welcome to stay among us." With a powerful witch such as herself by his side, no one would be able to stand against them. They could take back their home! But the witch seemed to have no intention of such things.

"I cannot stay," she says. "I must follow the wind, and live in the shadows until my dying day. And it will come. And then I will be free. But you must hear me, Roric of Ash. You must return to the place of your ancestors. Learn the truth of who you are. Restore your name. And die by the hands of your blood, your ashes returning to whence they came. As all life must be." And the witch nods to him, and turns to disappear right through the flames.

A/N Since this chapter mainly took place in one setting, I will probably update again tomorrow. Who do you think Roric really is? I tried to hint at it earlier and some of you may already know;p Hope you guys liked my little plot twist! Stay tuned to see what unfolds next for Dany and her family!