The Dragons of Winter
Chapter 15
Daenerys
Two moons had passed since the death of her brother, and in truth, not much had changed in her life since. Illiryo Mopatis had allowed them to stay accommodated in Pentos, seeming almost relieved of Viserys' death. That perplexed Daenerys; wasn't the Magister in favour of having Viserys on the throne? Viserys had become half mad. Daenerys added as an afterthought.
Yet… why is he allowing us to stay here? She decided not to waste too much thought on the question however, and put her mind onto other things instead.
It felt as if all of her weakness and inadequate thoughts had left her, died with her brother. She felt stronger, more powerful. It also reminded her of what she felt in Winterfell, with people who cared for her as much as Jon.
She wondered what happened when the usurper Robert Baratheon entered what she called her home for moons. Did anyone say anything? Did Robert want something from Ned? Are they even in Winterfell anymore? Daenerys was aware that her last thought was very likely, as the usurper's previous hand, Robert Arryn had died. The very idea of them leaving their home to serve the man responsible who her family's deaths made her frustrated.
It must be worse for Ned, the man has so much honour… lying to the King must hurt him.
Arya
Court life was boring, repetitive and dull. She woke up every morning, wishing to see Winterfell's walls and not the golden canopy that hung on her silk feather bed. Then, she broke her fast with Sansa, who was always too busy rabbiting about the stupid Prince Joffrey , and Septa Mordane, who Arya sometimes hated as much as Joffrey.
…Maybe not that much, Arya thought, gritting her teeth as she thought about the stupid idiot prince.
Her father was always too occupied in matters of the court to see her. The fat King was too busy drinking to do what her father had to do in his place, and that made Arya hate him even more. With father gone, I truly have no one to talk to here. The only time Arya was able to release herself from her new tedious life was during her dancing lessons with Syrio Forell, her Bravoosi dancing master. When she danced with him, her wooden sword in hand, the hole that Jon and Daenerys had left behind felt almost mended…almost.
That morning she'd woken up with the same sadness and longing for her home. She needed to see a familiar face, she needed to feel the North's summer snow fall on her face, to hear Robb's laughter, or see Bran running around, even though he had fallen and her mother's auburn hair glisten in the sun.
Syrio Forell picked up on her melancholy during her dancing lessons, "Arya child, you are sad. Is it the North you long for? Your home?"
"How do you know?" She shot back at him, not meaning to sound so angry or rude.
Syrio gave her a knowing smile, "I see it in your eyes, the grey stormy, icy clouds inside of them. But that's good! Fight like you are your emotions, let out your fury and into your sword and soon enough you will not be a dead girl, but a victor."
That made Arya smile, so she lifted her wooden sword off from the floor and began to dance, Braavosi style. Each time she struck her Braavosi dancing master's sword, she imagined it being a person, not a lifeless piece of wood held in his hand.
Whack!
Joffrey
Whack!
Cersei
Whack!
King Robert
Whack!
The hound
It felt good, hitting those she hated, like they had left her life. Like they had died.
"Well done Arya! Good work child, I can clearly see that you must be half Bravoosi by the way you fight!" Syrio told her warmly, letting out a chuckle, "Now, remember to chase cats, I saw a big mean black cat nearby earlier, hissing at the Queen and Joffrey, scaring the prince. Hates the Lannisters, that cat."
I want to keep that cat, not chase it. Arya mused to herself.
Syrio was right; that cat was mean and very big. Arya spent half the day following it, jumping to ensnare it in her hands and running after it got away, snarling and hissing. All of her brave attempts were futile, and she was covered in scratch marks and bruises. Nothing I'm not used to.
Deeper and deeper into the castle she went, the halls becoming darker and darker as she chased the cat down flights stairs. Soon, it became so dark that Arya struggled to see. The cat ran away, and Arya was left in the pitch black hall on her own, with only silence around her.
Fear cuts deeper than swords she told herself, over and over again, repeating it like a chant in battle.
Fear cuts deeper than swords, fear cuts deeper than swords, fear cuts deeper than swords, fear cuts deeper than swords.
Arya entered a new room then. She was shocked to see huge stone heads lined up in a room lit by torches mounted on the stone walls.
Fear cuts deeper than swords.
Dragon skulls, she realized.
Jon and Daenerys would adore these, she noted sadly as she traced her skinny arm over the tooth that was the size of her entire body on the largest of the skulls. She wanted to admire each one, to feel them. It made her feel closer to Jon, like perhaps he was there with her, laughing and smiling, with Daenerys by his side.
I wonder if their dragons will ever become this bi-
Her thoughts were halted by the sounds of voices coming from bear by, getting louder and louder.
Fear cuts deeper than swords, she told herself as she climbed into the mouth of the dragon skull, pushing her body between the tooth and the hard bone inside.
Fear cuts deeper than swords, fear cuts deeper than swords, fear cuts deeper than swords.
The voices were echoing around the dark room now, and she could hear two, both the voices of men.
Arya Stark ignored the hammering of her heart inside her chest, and tried to crane her neck to have a look at who the men were; in the dim light of the flame torches, she could make out two large figures, one of them being fat with a beard and clothes that appeared foreign. The other was also plump, but unlike the first man, his head was bald and his clothes made him look like a wizard.
I don't know them.
"I have never wanted to use the wolves as tools." The first man spoke. The wolves? He means my family!
She listened even closer, intrigued.
"I'm afraid we have to, my old friend." The second man told the first, his voice much more soothing and slow. "You tell me that Rhaegar's son is in Pentos with Daenerys Targaryen, the son of Lyanna and Rhaegar. That makes him half Stark."
Jon…
The second man continued, "Eddard knows of this, and I've already seen rising tensions between him and his old friend King Robert."
The first man began to nod in agreement, "The hand does value his blood more than his friend, and yet, we have a third dragon, and one with a stronger claim than the bastard. I wish to put my concerns over him, and not the bastard."
"Too much concern attracts attention. The puzzle will unfold soon, and then we can concern over our future King that right now is dead to the world."
"So, dear friend, we shall arrange the pieces against each other, and let the dragons come again with the wolves once the false stags are done." The second man announced to his fat friend.
"And what shall turn them against each other?"
"The false stags; the hand already has his suspicions about the princes and the princess with the assistance of Petyr Baelish. All we must do now is wait, my friend."
With that, Arya snuck out of the dragon's mouth and scurried to the large iron gates opposite, slipping her body through its bars.
Fear cuts deeper than swords.
The men were beginning to walk further and further away, their conversation sounding quieter than Arya's rushing thoughts.
What do they want with father, with Jon, with my family? I have to tell him now.
The false stags?
Who are they?
The third dragon, dead to the world?
Jon
After his conversation with Daenerys, Jon often found himself thinking about his dead sister Rhaenys and his dead brother, Aegon.
What kind of people would they be? Would I look like them? Probably not, Jon added as an afterthought, reminding himself of how different he looked to Daenerys.
Would he have had honour, like Ned?
He heard Daenerys enter the room, he felt her soft lips brush over his, and his lips pull he over for more. He opened his eyes to see her smiling down upon him, her amethyst eyes shining in pure happiness.
"What is it?" Jon asked her through a chuckle and a kiss.
Daenerys laughed, "Nothing really… I'm just happy."
"Are you?" She added.
"Not really… I was thinking about Rhaenys and Aegon again…"
Daenerys stroked Jon's hand, "They would have been good siblings Jon. I envy you for it sometimes; all I had was Viserys, and I was so alone that I didn't realize that he was not a good brother until I was in Westeros. I didn't know what love felt like." Daenerys looked to the floor then, looking sad too, "The only happy memory I had before meeting you and going to Winterfell to find a true loving family was living in the house with red door. Sitting under the lemon tree in the sunlight, when Viserys was still a brother to me. I liked to eat lemon cakes." Daenerys admitted, grinning again.
"That sounds like Sansa, she loves lemon cakes too." Jon mused, the sister who he didn't know as well appearing in his mind. Quickly, Sansa turned into Arya, wild and always smiling her toothy smile.
"I miss Arya." Jon confessed, feeling his heart ache as he thought of her. He had worked out that she was in Kings landing, and that made him miss her even more. Her amongst all those horrible Baratheons and Lannisters instead of living her life with her family in Winterfell was a thought which Jon did not like to have. Arya was unlike Sansa, she wasn't made for court life with all of its pleasantries and games. No, Arya should forever be riding in the woods with Nymeria at her side.
"Me too." Daenerys told him, whispering into his ear now, "I miss all of them, I did not like leaving them." Her eyes were locked with Jon's now, and a playful smile was tugging at her lips, "Never leave me, Jon Snow."
"Never." Jon told her firmly, trying to resist the urge to rip her clothes off right there and then.
"Good, because I love you, Jon."
"I love you too, Daenerys." Jon said, knowing that his words were pure truth, knowing that he had never been so sure about something in his life.
"You taught me love, you made me love." Daenerys murmured, too busy unlacing her gown to speak clearly.
Jon joined her, he pulled his breeches off and lifted his shirt over his head, throwing it onto the floor before pulling Daenerys onto the bed with him, both naked.
"Thank you Jon, for teaching me love."
NOTES: I enjoyed writing the chapter as introduced new stuff into the story. Just want clarify that Varys does know of Viserys' death.
As always, please review as it helps me a lot! Give me your views on "the third dragon" and also Varys' and Illiryo's plans!
Thanks XX