A/N: Thank you everyone who left a review, it means a lot.

GERION

"Are you alright Ser?"

Gerion was decidedly not alright. He was sitting with the queen and their entourage out in the gardens of Meereen and laying not five paces away was a dragon. The white beast lay coiled around a tree like in a manner that recalled both a hound and serpent, its large head rested on its tail. The creature was the colour of milk, except for his horns and the scales that ran from his head to his tail. While by no means the size of the fearsome beasts Aegon and his sisters rode, the dragon lazing before him was already as big as horse.

"Ser?" asked the Queen again, a knowing smile on her face. "I see you're admiring Viserion."

The beast opened his eyes at the sound of his name and looked in their direction. Twin pools of molten gold watched Gerion with silent observation for a moment, before flicking its forked tongue out to taste the air. Oddly enough Viserion began to beat his tail downwards on the ground in a way that reminded Gerion of the hounds his father had kept at Casterly Rock.

"Have a care Gerion," said the red woman from her seat opposite him. "Dragons are fire made flesh, you'd do well not to risk getting burnt."

Queen Daenerys frowned at the priestess' words. "My dragons would not harm anyone unless I say otherwise my lady."

Gerion pressed back into his chair. Two women, each given to speaking their mind and to trampling any obstacle that stands in their way, are wont to have short conversations that end interestingly. I haven't had a good laugh all day…

Mylessa's sapphire eyes locked onto Daenerys' purple. "Tell me, Your Grace, what was it you gave up when awakening your scaly children?" there was something malicious about the red woman's smile. "A great gift requires a great sacrifice and only death will pay for life."

The Queen leaned forward, dark eyes on Mylessa, lips pursed. She looked unaccountably pretty. "And how did one such as you come into my son's company?" her voice, while soft, also held a razor edge to it.

"I have seen it in my fires that your son is a great hero," replied Mylessa with pleasant smile still forced in place. "It is my duty as a servant of R'hllor to assist him in any way I can."

"Oh R'hllor is it?" the Queen made her opinion on the god known with a snigger. "I'm sure your big nightfires kept my son safe from all the grumpkins and snarks."

Mylessa's expression had gone from a pleasant smile to an arrogant smirk. "I daresay he sleeps much better at night with me at his side."

Daenerys made no reply, her face still.

Oh this is very interesting, thought Gerion as he struggled to supress a smile. Rhaego's mother and lover at each other's throats. Which will the Khal defend?

If the big warrior cared at all what the two women said he gave no indication. In fact Rhaego had hardly said a word the entire meal, doing little more than chewing on his food in moody silence and occasionally glancing at Viserion.

Instead of rising to the taunt, Daenerys turned her attentions toward Gerion, offering the man a pleasant smile. "And what of you Ser, how did you come into Rhaego's service?"

"Your Grace is not the only breaker of chains," he replied with a thin smile. "Rhaego gave me aid during a time of need, and I've always thought it prudent to pay my debts."

Daenerys arched one eyebrow, delicate, expressive, and delicious. "I would have you well rewarded for your loyal service; House Targaryen does not forget its friends." A sudden thought seemed to occur to the queen and she shot him an apologetic smile. "Would you excuse me? I need to speak with my son alone."

He got up with the greatest reluctance and flashed another smile at the queen. "Of course Your Grace." and with a bow he turned on his heel and walked off, sparing one final glance at the dragon before he left. Mylessa was at his side by the time he made it back into the great pyramid. Her strides were strong and powerful and the scarlet dress bounced with every step.

And so you were thrown out too, he thought with a slight grin. I wonder how long she'll last in Queen Daenerys court. The priestess had done little to endear herself to the dragon queen and he wouldn't be the least bit surprised if she was sent away. If they're feeling merciful…

"She is a fool," hissed the young woman as they walked. "She will only drag Rhaego down."

"And you suggest he should just pack up his things and leave, is that it?" he gave a bitter laugh. "It seems you're the real fool."

"She is out of her league here," the priestess insisted. "I have seen it in the faces of those in the streets; I see it in the eyes of those simpering fools at her court. Rhaego would be best served by taking a dragon for his own and leaving before the city consumes everyone in this palace."

Gerion waited a moment, allowing that to sink in, then began to chuckle softly to himself. Oh, that's grand! I begin to quite like her!

"Is something funny?" she snapped.

"Forgive me," said Gerion, wiping a tear away. "But there are times when I forget how ruthless you really are. Which one of Hoster Tully's grandchildren are you? You have the colouring, the same shape of the eyes but there's something else, a certain wildness to you that is hidden underneath all of this red fanaticism. Tell me, are you Sansa Stark?"

There was a stunned pause, yet to the lady's credit she did not stop walking. The frown on her face however betrayed her feelings, as did the sharp look of recognition in her eyes. I hint a chink…

"I am not Sansa Stark."

He did not think she was lying, but Gerion knew better than most when someone hid behind half-truths. He pressed further. "I am perhaps mistaken; Lady Sansa would be much older wouldn't she? And so would that other one, Arya." He gave a wolfish grin. "No, you're not one of Ned Stark's girls though you definitely have the blood of the north in you to go along with that Tully hair…"he considered for a moment before realization dawned on him. "The boy, Robb was it? He looked like a Tully, and he was wed. You're his whelp aren't you? It's alright, I don't care."

Lady Mylessa's face drained of colour and she bit down on her bottom lip nervously. "You can't tell anyone."

"How much does Rhaego know?"

"I have told him a few things…" she hesitated for a moment. "I don't think the names hold any meaning to him, he was not born in Westeros."

Gerion looked about for anyone watching before taking the woman by the arm and leading her down a deserted corridor. "You are the heir of Winterfell, the Queen in the North. You could help unite the realm-"

She cut him off rudely. "How? How would I do that? I was raised by my mother in Asshai; all I know of Westeros are half forgotten bed time stories. And what proof do I have that would lead the Northmen to believe me?" she grabbed his shoulders firmly and looked him straight in the eye. "You must promise to not tell anyone. Please, this would only…complicate things."

The last time a pretty young woman came to me for help she ended up falling pregnant with my bastard and dying in a bed of blood. He looked down at Mylessa's eyes; saw the fear that lay within them. Well. What can we do, except try to do better? Gerion blinked, and took a deep breath. "Alright, I'll keep quiet. But I need you to stop this talk of stealing a dragon, deal?"

Mylessa eagerly nodded her head. "Yes, yes I promise."

Gerion watched her hurry off down the corridor, head bowed. Strange, but Gerion actually felt good. Me? Can it be? Gerion of House Lannister, trustworthy friend and protector of vulnerable young women? I suppose stranger things have happened.

RHAEGO

Rhaego watched as Gerion and Mylessa left the gardens and went back to whatever chambers they had been granted. Slowly, he turned his gaze back on his mother. She was watching him over the rim of a wine cup, hiding her expression. Rhaego didn't need to hide his, and openly allowed a frown to set in.

"Why do you look at me like that?" she asked, a single brow raised, all innocence.

Rhaego had neither the time nor the patience for subtly and simply said what he was thinking. "How did you birth those creatures from stone?"

A smile formed its way across his mother's face. "It was magic," she reached forwards and took Rhaego's hand within her own. "I carried the eggs into the flames and I was unburnt. I walked right into the open fire and felt the flames dance around me. There was so much warmth," her eyes trailed off, gazing somewhere else. "When it was over they were in my arms, three dragons, my children."

He frowned at the way she said 'children', but pressed on. "What Mylessa said about sacrifice, death for life….what was your price, mother?"

Daenerys' smile faltered, just for a moment. That was all it took for Rhaego to know that she was lying. "Your…companion is a fool. Perhaps you have your affections for her but she is a mere fanatic, you'd do well to be rid of her soon."

"She may be ignorant in many things, Mother, but of blood magic she knows much and more," he pressed his purple gaze. "Now tell me, what happened in the blaze….who did you burn?"

Rhaego watched his mother in rapt attention, noticing the quickening of her pulse as she withdrew her hands and shifted uncomfortably. The struggle was readily apparent on her face; her jaw clenched, her eyes glistening. When she spoke it was little more than a whisper. "Jorah,"

"What?" he gasped, stunned. "What did you fucking say?"

Daenerys eyes went wide and tears flowed freely down her cheeks then. "I didn't mean it, I-I walked into the flames and he followed me," she began to openly weep. "I didn't want him to die…..the flames had already spread…Irri…Jhiqui…" her voice became hoarse, "I tried to save them."

Jorah. The man was the closest thing Rhaego had ever known to a father, had taught him how to wield a sword, had read to him at night as a boy. And the last thing I ever said to him was a threat against his life. Rage bubbled up in his belly then, so black and thick that he was like to choke on it. He slammed a mighty fist into the table, rattling all the knives and forks and startling his mother. "He saved your life countless times, he served you loyally for years, he….he loved you!" He closed his eyes for a moment before striking the table again. "You let him burn!" he bellowed. Viserion stirred himself from his rest and hissed at Rhaego, flying over to his mother's side.

He shook his head in disgust. "I hope they were worth It." and with that he rose to his feet and left the gardens without another word.

He found Relequo lounging around inside one of the pyramid's larger chambers, casually drinking wine from a golden chalice. There was a lazy smile on his face which only grew when he saw Rhaego walk in. "Ah, my friend! What's the rush?"

"Get your men," he growled. "We're leaving."

The smile immediately fell from the sellsword's bearded face. "Leaving?" he asked incredulously. "Now… let's not be hasty here. Your mother is the Queen of this city, a-and that makes you the prince…royalty-that has perks! You could have all the wealth, all the power you could possibly imagine! And that's not even mentioning the women, why, we could drown ourselves in a sea of Meereenese beauties!"

Rhaego rounded on the man, easily towering over him and taking hold of his collar. "I won't ask you again."

Relequo's eyes darted about nervously until finally they settled on something over Rhaego's shoulder. "Talk some sense into him!"

"What's going on here?" asked Gerion as he approached.

After a moment of tension Rhaego took a deep breath and released the sellsword. He gave a long sigh of exhaustion and rubbed at his eyes. "We should leave," he said, allowing the weakness to creep into his voice. "I was a fool for ever coming here."

"But we just arrived, and what of the queen?" The Lannister asked. "Surely she'll take this as an insult."

The fire returned to his chest at that. "I don't give a damn how she takes it; just spread the word to the men that we leave in a hour!"

From behind them Relequo piped up. "What's brought all this on? We travelled weeks to find the damned Mother of Dragons and as soon as you spend a single afternoon alone with her you want to run away in the other direction?" he gave a mocking laugh. "What kind of craven is afraid of his own mother?"

Rhaego was across the room in an instant. Relequo looked surprised, just for a moment, then there was a sharp click-Rhaego's fist catching him in the face. The sellsword didn't fall far. Rhaego's hands caught the man before he hit the ground, yanked him up then flung him back against the wall. "You fucking gutless worm!" his head smacked against the brick-once, twice, three times. One hand grabbed hold of his neck and began to squeeze.

Green hair was tangled across Relequo's face; he could only see a narrow slice of skin, the corner of a bearded mouth, one dark eye. The eye stared back at him. Pink. Glistening. Fearful. With each squeeze of Rhaego's hand a little less air escaped from the sellsword's wheezing throat.

"RHAEGO!"

Rhaego came to his senses with a sickening jolt. His fingers snapped open and he jerked the hand away. Relequo stayed upright against the wall, he could hear him breathing. Short gasps. Or is that me? His head was splitting.

Gerion went over to inspect the downed sellsword. His skin was candle wax, pasty white. The trickle of blood from his nose almost looked black against it. The pink marks stood out vivid on his neck. He seemed barely conscious.

The heavy stomping of boots filled his ears and when he turned he found three of his bloodriders standing in the doorway. "Blood of my blood I-" Jakerhro paused when he spotted the half-dead sellsword on the floor, the surprise did not last long though and he turned back to Rhaego. "Blood of my blood, I have grievous news."

Rhaego grunted. "Tell it and tell it quickly, there is little else that can go wrong today."

Jakerhro took a breath. "Tomo….Tomo is dead."

"What?"

The bloodrider grimaced, his whole body was shaking. Whatever he has seen has frightened him, Rhaego realised. Finally he found the composure to speak. "He went out to visit the brothels, but…when we sent someone to fetch him we found his body lying in the streets….they had desecrated him, Blood of my blood,"

"Who?" he asked with sudden urgency, "Who did this to him?"

"The Sons of the Harpy."