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Disclaimer: Sadly, I am not the genius behind A Song of Ice & Fire, nor one of the ones behind Rise of the Guardians. All I own is my own insanity, which I claim proudly and fully blame for this convoluted mess.

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Chapter Thirteen: DAENERYS

Dany was bored out of her skull. To be fair, she had always found court dull, but today she wanted to scream. Ser Barristan had assured her that it was merely the fresh memory of reclaiming her city lingering in her blood and that she would start to relax again once peace started taking root. It was a nice sentiment, but she had her doubts.

For one thing, she realized now that she had no place in Meereen. True, the people praised her; hailed her as their savior, their mother, their queen; but how long would it last? Already, some were approaching her when their turn to speak came, asking when she would send Drogon away, or at the very least, lock him away. They remembered all too well the havoc and devastation caused by her dragons before, yet they forgot that Drogon and his siblings were her first living children. She had sacrificed everything to bring them into the world; she would not give them up. Beside which, they were her power. Without them, she was only a young girl who knew nothing.

Even if the Meereenese did eventually learn to live with her dragons, there would always be harpies skulking in the shadows. The Yunkai'i and the Astapori would always be prowling outside her walls, looking for a weakness. There would always be sellswords, holding out gifts in one hand while hiding daggers in the other. Sooner, rather than later, Meereen would be the death of her. It hid countless threats that haunted her waking hours.

And her sleeping ones? Wolves and winter warriors beckoned from her dreams, cold and austere, but oddly compelling, calling to something in her subconscious. She did not know what; the dreams always slipped into haze upon waking; but she knew in her heart that it was important. But every time her thoughts turned to puzzling it out, a spark of fear ignited in her mind. One dream, maybe even two or three, was innocent enough, but to see the same face night after night? A face she knew she had never seen in consciousness? She worried if maybe she was starting to teeter into the same madness that had claimed her father and Viserys; both their minds and their lives. It honestly frightened her, but the only one she had found the courage to confide in had been Missandei, her sweet little scribe.

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"Your Grace mustn't worry," the girl had told her, brushing out her hair. It was finally reaching a length that could be called feminine. "Your heart is much too big for madness. This one's mother used to tell me that there is a man of much magic. He weaves dreams into sand and spreads it across the land. She also said that sometimes he shows people what will, might, or should be."

"My heart is slowly hardening," Dany had answered, digesting the girl's words. She had very little use for magic and even less for its users, and had no reason to trust it. Magic had taken everything she had ever really loved. And she really did not like the idea of some sorcerer rifling around in her head. But she could not deny that she was curious. "'Will, might, or should be'? That's rather vague."

"The Sanddreamer is very old and very powerful, Your Grace. He is allowed to be vague. It lets him let people see what they truly want. At least in this one's humble opinion. I have never met him, so I do not know."

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Missandei's words echoed in Dany's head now, occupying the space left by boredom. She was so distracted that she initially overlooked the odd appearance of her next audience. After all, she had seen many strange customs. But as her attention refocused, she realized that this man took the crown for oddities.

He was small, as small as a child, yet lacking the stunted grotesquery of a dwarf, and was literally head-to-toe golden in color. Even his eyes and skin were a shade of gold. His clothing had no discernible seam, save for at the neck and wrists, and seemed to just blend into his body, reminding her of the statues in Illyrio's expansive gardens. He seemed to glitter where the light hit him, much like gold or sand.

Sand.

Realization hit Dany like a blow to the stomach and she rose to her feet. "Out. All of you. I will hear no more today. Go celebrate your peace as you will." Confusion greeted her at first, but her people started to trickle out, gaining momentum steadily.

Daenerys let her gaze rest on the little sand man hotly, informing him that he was not to move. He smiled cheerfully and began to whistle silently, rocking on the balls of his feet, fingers twiddling idly. Once the hall was empty, Dany descended her stairs, Ser Barristan and Strong Belwas at her flank, coming to a halt in front of the man. She was not renowned as a tall woman, but even she towered over the little golden figure.

"You are the Sanddreamer." It was not a question, but he answered it with a silent nod and a smile. "Why have you been plaguing me?"

She could feel Ser Barristan's alarm, but did not look away from the Sanddreamer. A part of her knew this would be the only chance she got to have her questions answered. The Sanddreamer thought for a moment, and then, slowly a cloud of sand rose over his head, twisting to form a picture of a dragon. Dany stared at it in wide-eyed amazement, watching as it gradually shrank until it was nothing more than a lizard. Then, an enormous stag appeared in the sand, trampling the lizard and gaining a crown; the Usurper, she realized with a frown. The sand-stag broke apart, revealing five new animals that were fighting, a few fading away. Fallen kings, Dany decided, cut down in the squabble for her kingdom.

Abruptly, the scene changed, showing a forest and a wall. Figures rose up, twisted and fearsome; the monsters from her dreams, marching en mass towards the wall, which crumbled. The shapes of people appeared and fell to the monsters, rising up again to join their ranks, marching endlessly, and Dany felt a deep despair.

"Why are you showing me this?" she demanded.

The Sanddreamer held up a finger, and then two figures appeared, facing against the horrible army. Dany gasped, recognizing the warrior and his wolf. Fear gripped her heart as he moved to meet the horde, knowing he would not survive. She did not want to see this. As the warrior stumbled and fell, she turned on her heel, fleeing the hall, her throat tight. Ser Barristan and Strong Belwas followed immediately, casting scathing glances at the being that had distressed their queen.

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Sandy watched them go, frowning. He wasn't finished explaining yet, and he doubted Daenerys would allow him another audience. At least, not one while she was awake. Unfortunately, the dreams he delivered were even vaguer than his sand messages. It was times like these he wished he hadn't sworn himself to silence. Over his head, a new sand-dragon swooped down, blasting fire at the frozen army.

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A/N: Oh-ho! Dany's good at charades, it seems. I'm sorry if there's a lot of OOC-ness in this chapter. Hopefully you all don't think it sucks as bad as I do. But look! Sandy! =D