DISCLAIMER: Chapter one.

Chapter rating: T

10868letsgo: ?Hope you like the next one.

NicoleR85: Hope I can do this fight well, I always struggle with them ?

Bvj: Please enjoy the next one.

Ladyespeon164: Glad you liked this one~ Hope you enjoy the next one!

SvenTheDecoy: More like Sansa and Rhaenyra's ladies will be the reminder! Sansa is the pious daughter and judges her mother, lol.

Chapter Forty-Six: XLVI - The Battle Will Soon Begin

Rhaenyra stood with the Arryn lords as they finished their deals and goods trades. Robin had offered a third of their sheep to the she-dragon who did not seem to enjoy it. It made some curious as dragons have always preferred sheep to other kinds of food. Dacey assumes it is because of the dragons being raised on deer and moose since their hatching in the north. Robin confirmed that the Vale had gold and silver to share with their new king. Lysa had tried to send word to the Iron Throne only for the maester to give the message to the Queen. Rhaenyra ordered the woman to be confined to her chambers until she calms down or comes to terms with how things will be. Lord Royce believed she would never be calm, as she was obsessed with ruling in her son's name, but Rhaenrya had put Lord Royce in charge of being the lord regent, assuring Robin would still sit and choose his own options once explained everything. But Rhaenyra knew she could not stay here long, she had done what she was meant to accomplish and had chosen to keep the Blackfish here, knowing he would look out for his niece and great-nephew. And once Margaery was here, he'd help her find a way to become Lady of the Vale.

"Can I go on one final flight? Please?" Robin asked as Rhaenyra smiled while having Arya be ready.

"No, I have to return to my husband. They are to fight the Lannisters," Rhaenyra said as Robin nodded.

"And we will send men to help," he decided.

"No." Rhaenyra countered, to their confusion as Arya and Ser Barristan also looked confused. "I need your men to go the Wall and ensure the Wildlings don't attack early, they've been gathering masses at Keeps around the Wall. From what Jon told me is that they will have masses near 100,000 wildlings," she said, some worried about each other. "I already have as many as we can spare to not drain the North or Riverlands of their defenders and leave them open to raiders. I only ask you to do the same, pull all your resources and people back to the Eyrie if need be, but as part of our kingdom, you are required to send as many as you can," Rhaenyra ordered as the men nodded.

"Of course, Your Grace. I will ensure the men are sent and will send one of my sons as commanders of the unit until they reach the Wall," Lord Royce confirmed as his eldest son nodded behind him.

"Very well," Rhaenyra said before leaving as she mounted Rhaella who hissed. Something was upsetting her, it unnerved Rhaenyra who did not understand her dragon's anger suddenly. Once they surged into the air, lighter without the second knight as the women held the babies tightly Rhaella breathed fire in the air as the women screamed alarmed as the she-dragon flew through burst angry as she aimed a echoing roar in the direction of the Wall. Rhaenyra, now terrified, used her whip to command her dragon, Rhaella angrily banked but obeyed when the whip came near her face this time. Flapping quickly to regain the proper altitude, Rhaenyra turned to see a terrified group calming each other and reassuring their queen they were fine as the babies whimpered but settled with some sweet sounds from the women caring for them. Arya clung to Rhaenyra, who soothed her by rubbing her hand. Rhaenyra knew something was wrong with Rhaella, but worried what it could be.

XLVI

(Essos)

Tyrion hummed as he stared Illyrio down before resuming his watching of the Pentoshi home. Staring at the bustling and preparing for a trip it would seem.

"How did you all sleep? I hope sweet dreams," the man spoke as he eyed Tana who sat with Shae, acting as her lady maid. Tyrion thought the taste of the Essosi wine was so cloying that it was all he could do to keep it down. The second cup went down easier, however. Even so, he had no appetite, and when Illyrio offered him a bowl of blackberries in cream he waved it off. "I dreamed about the queen," he said. "I was on my knees before her, swearing my allegiance, but she mistook me for my brother, Jaime, and fed me to her dragons."

"Let us hope this dream was not prophetic. You are a clever imp, just as Varys said, and Daenerys will have a need for clever men about her. Ser Barristan was a valiant knight and true; but none, I think, has ever called him cunning, it is a shame he never left Westeros. And your brother now serves her sister, why would you two be her enemy?"

"Knights know only one way to solve a problem. They couch their lances and charge. A dwarf has a different way of looking at the world. What of you, though? You are a clever man yourself." Tyrion said.

"Aside from being loyal to her sister who also is an aspiring queen," Bronn finished as the man huffed with a smile.

"You flatter me." Illyrio waggled his hand. "Alas, I am not made for travel, so I will send you to Daenerys in my stead. You did Her Grace a great service when you left, as you know good information to help her win, and it is my hope that you will do her many more. Daenerys is not the fool her brother was. She will make good use of you."

'As kindling?' Tyrion thought, smiling pleasantly. They changed out teams only thrice that day but seemed to halt twice an hour at the least so Illyrio could climb down from the litter and have himself a piss. Our lord of cheese is the size of an elephant, but he has a bladder like a peanut, the dwarf mused. During one stop, he used the time to have a closer look at the road. Tyrion knew what he would find: not packed earth, nor bricks, nor cobbles, but a ribbon of fused stone raised a half foot above the ground to allow rainfall and snowmelt to run off its shoulders. Unlike the muddy tracks that passed for roads in the Seven Kingdoms, the Valyrian roads were wide enough for three wagons to pass abreast, and neither time nor traffic marred them. They still endured, unchanging, four centuries after Valyria itself had met its Doom. He looked for ruts and cracks but found only a pile of warm dung deposited by one of the horses.

"Valyrian roads," Shae spoke, knowing what her lover was looking at. "Created by the dragon-flames, from what Sansa told me from an old book she read," Shae smiled. Tyrion though continued to think.

'It must be a nice cold hell where you can look up and see me help restore one of Mad Aerys's daughter to the Iron Throne? The other already has control of her part of the land.' As they resumed their journey, Illyrio produced a bag of roasted chestnuts and began to speak once more of the dragon queen.

"Our last news of Queen Daenerys is old and stale, I fear. By now she will have left Yunkai, we must assume. She has her host at last, a ragged host of sellswords, I hear, the Dothraki horselords have left, though this I do not know why, and the Unsullied infantry, and she will no doubt lead them west, to take back her father's throne." Magister Illyrio twisted open a pot of garlic snails, sniffed at them, and smiled. "At Volantis, you will have fresh tidings of Daenerys, we must hope," he said, as he sucked one from its shell. "Dragons and young girls are both capricious, and it may be that you will need to adjust your plans. Griff will know what to do. Will you have a snail? The garlic is from my own gardens." Offering the smelly jar as Tana wrinkled her nose softly.

'I could ride a snail and make a better pace than this litter of yours.' Tyrion waved the dish away.

"You place a great deal of trust in this man Griff. Another friend of your childhood?" the dwarf asked as Bronn ordered a drink with Shae sharing a drink with Tana.

"No. A sellsword, you would call him, but Westerosi born. Daenerys needs men worthy of her cause." Illyrio raised a hand. "I know! 'Sellswords put gold before honor,' you are thinking. 'This man Griff will sell me to my sister.' Not so. I trust Griff as I would trust a brother."

"Then I shall do likewise." Tyrion spoke as Bronn frowned, knowing this was dangerous if the man was Westerosi born.

"The Golden Company marches toward Volantis as we speak, there to await the coming of our queen out of the east." The Magister peeked outside for a moment.

'Beneath the gold, the bitter steel.' Tyrion thought darkly.

"I had heard the Golden Company was under contract with one of the Free Cities." Shae spoke, a frown on her face, she knew the Golden Company, having spent time with the men there.

"Myr." Illyrio smirked. "Contracts can be broken." He waved it off while Tyrion frowned.

"There is more coin in cheese than I knew," said Tyrion. "How did you accomplish that?" The magister waggled his fat fingers.

"Some contracts are written in ink, and some in blood. I say no more." The dwarf pondered that. The Golden Company was reputedly the finest of the free companies, founded a century ago by Bittersteel, a bastard son of Aegon the Unworthy. When another of Aegon's Great Bastards tried to seize the Iron Throne from his trueborn half-brother, Bittersteel joined the revolt. Daemon Blackfyre had perished on the Redgrass Field, however, and his rebellion with him.

Those followers of the Black Dragon who survived the battle yet refused to bend the knee fled across the narrow sea, among them Daemon's younger sons, Bittersteel, and hundreds of landless lords and knights who soon found themselves forced to sell their swords to eat. Some joined the Ragged Standard, some the Second Sons or Maiden's Men. Bittersteel saw the strength of House Blackfyre scattering to the four winds, so he formed the Golden Company to bind the exiles together. From that day to this, the men of the Golden Company had lived and died in the Disputed Lands, fighting for Myr or Lys or Tyrosh in their pointless little wars, and dreaming of the land their fathers had lost. They were exiles and sons of exiles, dispossessed and unforgiving… yet formidable fighters still.

"I admire your powers of persuasion," Tyrion told Illyrio. "How did you convince the Golden Company to take up the cause of our sweet queen when they have spent so much of their history fighting against the Targaryens?" Illyrio brushed away the objection as if it were a fly.

"Black or red, a dragon is still a dragon. When Maelys the Monstrous died upon the Stepstones, it was the end of the male line of House Blackfyre." The cheesemonger smiled through his forked beard as Shae froze at his words, looking down a moment she felt Bronn take her hand softly as he nodded too, he knew what those words meant. "And Daenerys will give the exiles what Bittersteel and the Blackfyres never could. She will take them home."

"And how will they feel following a queen who only controls five regions of the Seven Kingdoms?" Bronn asked as Illyrio paused and looked curious.

"Well, it will only be a limited time before the whole of Westeros will be united once more, it cannot-"

"No, you misunderstand my friend. The North and the Riverlands have refused to ever follow a Southern leader again. They've declared such things too," Tyrion said as Illyrio hummed displeased with this news. Though Tyrion did not understand how he could not know.

"Well this will be wondered later on, I guess. Let the young queens figure it out," he mused. "But there is something I wish for you to deliver to our young King," the magister requested as Tyrion frowned, curious but cautious with the Essosi man.

XLVI

(Daenerys)

Daenerys smiled as she picked her daughter up and with a playful 'whoo' before groaning softly.

"You, My Love, are becoming almost too heavy for me to pick up," Daenerys laughed as Jon came over with worry.

"What is it?" Jon asked worriedly.

"Nothing. She is just getting too heavy," Daenerys reassured him, kissing her daughter's head as she giggled and squealed when Viserion came to her. "I don't believe it," she mused as Jon smiled. He saw the bond instantly, just like Rhae's dragons and their riders.

"There is a good chance she will be his rider once she is old enough," Jon claimed as Daenerys scoffed softly in disbelief.

"But she is so young! And so is he," Daenerys, protectively, denied the idea as Jon smiled. Embracing her from behind he kissed her head softly.

"He cares for her as Ghost does for me, as Rhaella does for Rhaenyra. Once he is big enough and she is old enough to understand and only when she is trained properly, you should give her the chance," he encouraged while Daario frowned. He saw Daenerys shift her views instantly.

"Very well," she smiled. "I will wait until she is… seven. That is the age Rhaenyra Targaryen first mounted Syrax," Daenerys suggested as her husband agreed.

"A good age, she will be trained in horse-riding before dragon-riding, to honor her father," Jon claimed as she smiled at the thought as Rhelli ran to them.

"Yes," Deanerys agreed as she watched Jon hoist her up with the toddler giggling as she squealed while he spun her.

Drogon had growled softly while accepting the food while Stiorra encouraged the closer guards to put the harness on the male dragon's back so they could see if he was the perfect size for Daenerys to attempt to mount him. Stiorra who had been up and personal with the female dragons knew the size that would be good for Daenerys to sit comfortably.

"Your Grace," Stiorra called out as Daenerys turned herself. "Drogon is ready for you to mount him," the Viking urged as Daenerys approached. Drogon raised up as though to ignore her before Daenerys took the offered whip. She swung the whip when Drogon ignored her order to get down.

Drogon hissed but when the whip smacked his cheek he obeyed and slowly lowered his body as Jon came closer, softly offering his hand for the male dragons to smell him and be used to his scent. Drogon did not appreciate the new contraption on his back and shifted before Daenerys sent her whip, not catching him, but causing him to obey her to sit still.

"Do not take off yet, Your Grace," Sigtryggr requested. "We are simply seeing if he will settle with your weight for now," he said as Stiorra carefully climbed up as well, pausing when the male would eye her suddenly. She settled, sideways, to help fasten Daenerys just in case her dragon had a random thought. He was big enough to fit three people comfortably from what the young woman could see from her time with Rhaella. But he would not feel happy with three new weights on his back so Daenerys will be his only passenger for a time.

"Alright, you're tied in. Always make sure you're attached or you might fall," Stiorra said as Daenerys nodded, swallowing her nerves.

"You will be fine, Dany," Jon called as she smiled at his encouragement. She felt her stomach coil at the thought of Drogon taking off without her being prepared.

"If he launches into the air without you ready, use your whip and strong voice," Stiorra emphazied. "It was how Jaime gained control of Rhaenys, she almost ate his brother and Princess Sansa when they rejoined the group. If a lion is able to bond with a beast with dragon-blood than those who share the blood should easily bend them to their will," Stiorra said as Daenerys smiled softly, still shock that Jaime had become a dragon-rider, she did not believe Jon when he told her before others agreed and told her why. As Stiorra just confirmed it once more, and the fact that other northern people who do not deal with liars. Jorah confirmed that they tell truths rather than lies, it terrifies others more than any lies.

Drogon settled with his mother on his back as she pet him, softly stroking his scales that she could reach while tapping him with her loosened whip loop, he got up with a grumble and walked around at his rider's pulls with the reins before he shook his head, wanting to already be off the ground. Which Stiorra spotted quickly.

"Your Grace-" she shouted before Drogon decided to leap into the air as Daenerys yelped, she held on tightly as Drogon launched high before diving down as her army all crouched when the dragon flew low enough to knock them down. Many ran around to spy the queen before Rhaegal and Viserion joined, shrieking and roaring as they flew around, Ghost took off and seemed to stop where he could see the three males flying together.

Daenerys breathed out heavily once Drogon leveled out as she held on, knuckles turning white from true fear before she laughed in disbelief. Her brother who always claimed to be the True Dragon was wrong.

'I am the true dragon, Viserys!' she roared in her mind as Drogon echoed it, sensing her need to scream her brother's failure. 'We are the last dragons.' She thought as her twin and husband drifted into her mind before using the whip to help turn her dragon to keep with her army as more ships were joining with northern markings.

Daenerys then chooses what to do, once all the ships are there, Daenerys wil gather her people and they will start the march back to Westeros, hoping to be of help to her twin. But first they needed to be sure to deal with this boy claiming to be her nephew, none of her people have heard of him recently and the new Khal had said he would deal with the fake man once he knows of his location as well. A promise to his former Khaleesi.

XLVI

(Robb)

"This is where the main location of a good fight would be for our forces, the mountains can be where Baela and I perch and wait but it's here too where no one can sneak up on us," Jaime explained as he pointed out the weak points of a land nearby. Robb listened as he eyed the land and frowned at the expanse wooded area.

"Too much cover for the enemy," Robb countered as Jaime smiled.

"I know. I already have a plan for that," the dragon rider spoke, and soon explained his whole plan as Baela marched out with the army, Alysanne shrieking as she flew ahead. Her new maidservant was helping her do her armor, Jaime had helped her in the first place to teach the maid how to attach her dragon-based armor. It had been Gendry who created the armor for the dragon-riders, it was because of his training to make his bull helmet. He had made Baela a dragon-scaled armor with the helmet to have lions engraved. She refused to have an animal helmet, she told him after thanking him when he took her measurements. Jaime did not care and was given lion-based armor with a helmet that had a small mane. Rhaenyra's armor was made from her former measurements that Robb knew before her current pregnancy and would make the adjustments when she returned and gave birth.

Baela felt uncomfortable in the armor but knew she needed to wear it. Wolland had found her armor humorous but helped in learning how to help her put it on as he applied his own northern armor.

She led her portion of the army to where they were to be stationed as she spied all the brush and trees before grinning as she ordered the men to get to work as the dragon rider took her dragoness to the sky so she could see how far from them the Mountain was. And from what she saw, they needed to hurry. With a thought, Baela flew back and started to order the men away from the sight they were attempting to clear as Theon frowned but when Alysanne landed in a cleared spot, she raised her giant body backwards, mouth wide open as blue flames lit her throat up.

"Move! She's using dragonfire!" he roared as the men fled the scene, bolting far enough to witness the blue flames engulf the forest as the brush burned. Alysanne sent another blaze of flames to the dense treeline to thin it out. Theon grinned as he realized, the dragoness was not wearing out and if they could do this quick enough, she could rest and they would be ready. Ready to fight the Mountain and quite possibly die. But he knew the dragons had a chance to destroy the large man should they fail, Theon knew what the plan for them was because once the fires died down the men went fast to clear some more and watched as she-dragon devoured a nearby herd of deer before resuming her tree burning.

XLVI

Robb sighed softly as he finished relieving himself as he missed his wife dearly. No matter if it was common for Kings or husbands to bed other women when their wives were not present, Robb refused, aside from his true fear of his wife's wrath. He refused to ever dishonor her, some men continued to question why the queen was not being more active like her other riders before Roose Bolton would shut their words down.

"Our Queen is able to go and quench rebellions or fights if need be, a simple sight of her single dragon makes others conform. Do you think any other would be able to do this?" he questioned as others shook their heads. "We have two of her three dragons fighting for us. Why do we need all three?" he asked as the men could not answer. Robb chuckled at this, he could see why he chose this man as his Hand. Roose Bolton knew how to keep the men in line and make sure to guide the army where they needed to go.

It was times like these where Robb was grateful for the position the man held, despite his fears of him, or his family name and what lies beneath the Dreadfort. Rhaenyra told him if she ever needed to question someone, if the Martells were not so eager to help, she'd give them men over to the Bolton lord who seemed eager to aid in getting information from someone with the Martells.

Robb moaned as he placed his trousers on and started to tie the strings when he heard movement behind him, assuming it was Grey Wind, Robb urged him closer to give him food before he felt hands upon his back. Producing a knife, he whipped around and held the item to the woman's throat as she gasped softly. It was the eldest daughter of Gwayne Westerling, Jeyne Westerling, she was in little more than a slip. Obviously meaning what she was trying to do once more.

"Your Grace," she whispered, eyeing him hungrily. Robb would have been flattered were they his wife's eyes and her hands upon his body. But he felt anger and displeasure as he sighed and pushed her hands away.

"What are you doing here? How did you get past my guards?" he demanded as she smiled coyly.

"Well, I saw the guard shift their relief and overheard you. My King if you needed relief, all you had to do was send for me or even my sister, we both are-"

"Stop, now!" Robb demanded before whistling as his guards entered. "This is the last time, I do not understand why you continue to do this when I have declined every attempt. Once more and you will be branded for adultery or I can have you executed for treason against the Queen," Robb threatened as she paled. "Get out," he demanded as she winced from his cold tone. "And summon your father to my council tent. I need to discuss things with him before I march off," Robb warned as she froze before curtsying in respect.

"Are you alright, Your Grace?" Obara asked, worry in her tone for her friend.

"Aye, Obara. I am well. Just decided on how to ensure that woman stops attempting to put her daughters in my bed with my seed in their belly," he said as she hummed curious while nodding as she ordered the men outside while Robb continued to dress himself and soon was waiting in the war tent with the remainder of his council who were not with the dragons and awaiting the Mountain to arrive.

"Are you sure about this, Your Grace?" Lord Bolton asked.

"It is either this or I execute them, My Lord. Which sounds more sound?" Robb asked as the men agreed.

"We are honored to have the girls married into our houses. Ensure the family remains loyal," Rickard commented as Robb nodded. "Torrhen will do his duty," the man said as Greatjon did the same.

"As will Smalljon. He took a liking to the younger girl," the man spoke as Robb nodded.

"Then I will bind him with Eleyna. I am sure she will prove fruitful," he hoped as the man nodded.

"And I can assure Torrhen will rein the elder in. With pleasure," Rickard said as Robb nodded, pleased.

"I pray so," he prayed as Gwayne Westerling entered, nervous as he sat when the King urged him too. "My lord there is something I wish to discuss with you about your daughters and what your eldest daughter did," Robb started as the man froze. His son was at the moment marching with the army right now, he knew he had no allies here.

"Of course, Your Grace," the man agreed.

XLVI

Robb rode out with the men as he joined up with Jaime who grinned as he spotted the King.

"Your Grace. Come see our plan," Jaime encouraged as Robb came closer before freezing as Grey Wind also perked up at seeing burned ground and razed lands. "Baela says they will be here by tomorrow midday if not, earlier," Jaime spoke as Oberyn was bouncing on his feet. Waiting for it as he was too eager to rest.

"Good thing we will be prepared and waiting for them," Oberyn said. His daughters and lover urged him to rest as they would be waiting some time.

"My earlier calculations were wrong!" Baela shouted as she landed before hopping off Alysanne's back. "It seems they caught wind of how close we are and the Mountain is pushing his men to meet up with us soon. Within hours if we are lucky to be prepared and have the line ready," she said as Theon agreed having gone with her and Alysanne.

"Then we will be ready," Robb swore.

XLVI

(Rhaenyra)

Flying on Rhaella non-stop, was tiring for the group as the babies were growing tired of being continuously bound to a passenger's chest for protection. The girls were uncomfortable as Arya complained softly. But Ser Barristan knew they were nearing Riverrun to rest at least for the night.

Spotting the familiar castle, the she-dragon instantly landed where the castellan of Riverrun ran to greet the Queen with the attendants. The dragoness made many freeze and not fully approach.

"Your Grace," Edmure greeted as Rhaenyra frowned.

"Uncle?" she questioned as Arya mimicked it before looking at the startled Ser Barristan. "Why-"
"Forgive me, Your Grace, the King requested me to remain behind in case you returned. There were reports of Lord Frey housing supporters of the Lannisters so I returned to Riverrun as quickly as I could have and sent some men of my own to treat and understand what was going on," Edmure said as she frowned, irritated.

"Men of Lannister you say?" she asked as he nodded with a confused look.

"Yes, Your Grace," he confirmed.

"Your Grace, you are meant to return to King Robb. Deal with this together," Ser Barristan commented quietly as she paused before nodding.

"I will take this to Robb, so we can decide on how to deal with the Frey Lord's loyalty. I thank you, Uncle, for addressing the situation," she nodded as he bowed.

"Of-of course, Your Grace." Edmure knew something was up with his queen but did not say anything. "Oh! This was sent to Winterfell to you. It is from Queen Daenerys," he claimed as she took it, eager to hear news as it had been some time since she heard from them. "I believe you will enjoy the news from what your Maester had read," the man commented.

"Really?" Rhaenyra asked, curious. If Maester Luwin thought it was good news, then surely it was good for them. Hopefully, she thought.

"Yes, I hope it is good news," he hoped. Rhaenyra opened it as she read quickly before her eyes went wide. "What is it?" he asked.

"They've married," she said, Arya's eyes went wide as well. She knew who the Queen spoke of.

"Is that not good?" Edmure asked, confused still. That was the point of Jon going to Daenerys to earn her favor.

"No, they were meant to marry here once men swore to Daenerys. And people could witness the marriage," Rhaenyra said as Ser Barristan took the letter to read it as well.

"It will be a challenge and they will wish for them to perform a Faith marriage, like you and The King performed a northern marriage since you were in the North," Ser Barristan said as she sighed.

"Aye. Very well, I will send a message and soon continue on with returning to my husband," Rhaenyra spoke as her people agreed.

"Your Grace, a letter arrived from Tyrion Lannister," a messenger claimed while offering the letter before Ser Barristan took it. Ensuring it was safe for the pregnant queen, he gave it to her as she took it and read it.

"They have made it safely to Pentos and have met with Illyrio Mopatis," she revealed as some looked relieved while she folded and ordered for her and Arya's chambers to be readied as the ladies quickly joined while the babies were held by their mother, aunt and great-uncle. Rhaenyra thought about all this and hoped that it would not end in a negative for them.

XLVI

(Tyrion)

"Daenerys will give the exiles what Bittersteel and the Blackfyres never could. She will take them home." Illyrio continued to talk up this Young Griff.

'With fire and sword.' It was the kind of homecoming that Tyrion wished for as well. "Ten thousand swords makes for a princely gift, I grant you. Her Grace should be most pleased." The magister gave a modest bob of his head, chins jiggling.

"I would never presume to say what might please Her Grace."

'Prudent of you.' Tyrion knew much and more about the gratitude of kings. Why should queens be any different? Soon enough the magister was fast asleep, leaving Tyrion to brood alone, thinking about his lovely lady sleeping peacefully, Tana resting her head on Bronn's shoulder while they slept too. He wondered what Barristan Selmy would think of riding into battle with the Golden Company. 'Hmm, he'd be insulted and then go and turn that bastard into his Dragon Queen,' he thought while continuing to drink. During the War of the Ninepenny Kings, Selmy had cut a bloody path through their ranks to slay the last of the Blackfyre Pretenders. Rebellion makes for queer bedfellows. And none more queer than this fat man and me. The cheesemonger woke when they stopped to change the horses and sent for a fresh hamper.

"How far have we to go?" the dwarf asked him as they stuffed themselves with cold capon and a relish made of carrots, raisins, and bits of lime and orange. Tana enjoyed the familiar tastes of her childhood, Illyrio happily shared with her, seeing her enjoying the taste.

"This is Andalos, my friend. The land your Andals came from. They took it from the hairy men who were here before them, cousins to the hairy men of Ib. The heart of Hugor's ancient realm lies north of us, but we are passing through its southern marches. In Pentos, these are called the Flatlands. Farther east stand the Velvet Hills, whence we are bound."

'Andalos. The Faith taught that the Seven themselves had once walked the hills of Andalos in human form.' Tyrion thought as he remembered his lessons. "The Father reached his hand into the heavens and pulled down seven stars," Tyrion recited from memory, "and one by one he set them on the brow of Hugor of the Hill to make a glowing crown."

"I did not dream my little friend was so devout." Magister Illyrio gave him a curious look.

The dwarf shrugged. "A relic of my boyhood. I knew I would not make a knight, so I decided to be High Septon. That crystal crown adds a foot to a man's height. I studied the holy books and prayed until I had scabs on both my knees, but my quest came to a tragic end. I reached that certain age and fell in love."

"A maiden? I know the way of that." Illyrio thrust his right hand up his left sleeve and drew out a silver locket. Inside was a painted likeness of a woman with big blue eyes and pale golden hair streaked by silver. The four instantly saw the similarities to Rhaenyra's Targaryen-like features, and confirmed what Tyrion was thinking all this time. "Serra. I found her in a Lysene pillow house and brought her home to warm my bed, but in the end I wed her. Me, whose first wife had been a cousin of the Prince of Pentos. The palace gates were closed to me thereafter, but I did not care. The price was small enough for Serra."

"How did she die?" Tyrion knew that she was dead; no man spoke so fondly of a woman who had abandoned him.

"A Braavosi trading galley called at Pentos on her way back from the Jade Sea. The Treasure carried cloves and saffron, jet and jade, scarlet samite, green silk … and the grey death. We slew her oarsmen as they came ashore and burned the ship at anchor, but the rats crept down the oars and paddled to the quay on cold stone feet. The plague took two thousand before it ran its course." Magister Illyrio closed the locket. "I keep her hands in my bedchamber. Her hands were so soft…" Tyrion glanced out at the fields where once the gods had walked. Tana held onto Shae's hand out of slight fear from the large man while the other comforted her. "What sort of gods make rats and plagues and dwarfs?" Another passage from The Seven-Pointed Star came back to him. "The Maid brought him forth a girl as supple as a willow with eyes like deep blue pools, and Hugor declared that he would have her for his bride. So the Mother made her fertile, and the Crone foretold that she would bear the king four-and-forty mighty sons. The Warrior gave strength to their arms, whilst the Smith wrought for each a suit of iron plates."

"Your Smith must have been Rhoynish," Illyrio quipped. "The Andals learned the art of working iron from the Rhoynar who dwelt along the river. This is known."

"Not by our septons." Tyrion gestured at the fields. "Who dwells in these Flatlands of yours?"

"Tillers and toilers, bound to the land. There are orchards, farms, mines … I own some such myself, though I seldom visit them. Why should I spend my days out here, with the myriad delights of Pentos close at hand?" Bronn hid his scoff at the Magister's words.

"Myriad delights." And huge thick walls. Tyrion swirled his wine in his cup. "We have seen no towns since Pentos."

"There are ruins." Illyrio waved a chicken leg toward the curtains. "The horselords come this way, whenever some khal takes it into his head to gaze upon the sea. The Dothraki are not fond of towns, you will know this even in Westeros."

"Fall upon one of these khalasars and destroy it, and you may find that the Dothraki are not so quick to cross the Rhoyne."

"It is cheaper to buy off foes with food and gifts."

If only I had thought to bring a nice cheese to the battle on the Blackwater, I might still have all my nose. His father had always held the Free Cities in contempt. They fight with coins instead of swords, he used to say. Gold has its uses, but wars are won with iron. "Give gold to a foe and he will just come back for more, my father always said."

"Sellswords will not stand against Dothraki screamers. That was proved at Qohor."

"Not even your brave Griff?" mocked Tyrion. "Griff is different. He has a son he dotes on. Young Griff, the boy is called. There never was a nobler lad."

The wine, the food, the sun, the sway of the litter, the buzzing of the flies, all conspired to make Tyrion sleepy. So he slept, woke, and drank. Illyrio matched him cup for cup. And as the sky turned a dusky

purple, the fat man began to snore. That night Tyrion Lannister dreamed of a battle that turned the hills of Westeros as red as blood.

When he woke his stunted legs were as stiff as iron. Illyrio was eating olives. "Where are we?" Tyrion asked his companions as Bronn, who had been sleeping resting against the wall, hummed in negative.

"We have not yet left the Flatlands, my hasty friend. Soon our road shall pass into the Velvet Hills. There we begin our climb toward Ghoyan Drohe, upon the Little Rhoyne."

'Ghoyan Drohe had been a Rhoynar city, until the dragons of Valyria had reduced it to a smoldering desolation. I am traveling through years as well as leagues,' Tyrion reflected, back through history to the days when dragons ruled the earth. Tyrion slept and woke and slept again, and day and night seemed not to matter. The Velvet Hills proved a disappointment. "Half the whores in Lannisport have breasts bigger than these hills," he told Illyrio. "You ought to call them the Velvet Teats." They saw a circle of standing stones that Illyrio claimed had been raised by giants, and later a deep lake.

"Here lived a den of robbers who preyed on all who passed this way," Illyrio said. "It is said they still dwell beneath the water. Those who fish the lake are pulled under and devoured." The next evening they came upon a huge Valyrian sphinx crouched beside the road. It had a dragon's body and a woman's face.

"A dragon queen," said Tyrion. "A pleasant omen."

"Her king is missing." Illyrio pointed out the smooth stone plinth on which the second sphinx once stood, now grown over with moss and flowering vines. "The horselords built wooden wheels beneath him and dragged him back to Vaes Dothrak," Illyrio said. Unaware of the dragon queen finding a new husband to help her.

XLVI

"So, we are going to be traveling with this bastard. Why?" Bronn asked.

"Because we need to confirm this boy is Serra Blackfyre's son. You saw that picture," Tyrion said as Bronn sighed.

"Aye, and she looked like every blonde whore in the brothels here in Essos. It is not uncommon, it was why many Targaryens I heard preferred the blonde whores," Bronn countered with a grin.

"Not really, most of that would have been bred out of them once the bastards started to pop out," Tana spoke with Shae agreeing. The dark hair would have won out.

"What was in that trunk he gave us to give to this 'Young Griff,' Tana?" Tyrion asked as she shrugged.

"I haven't looked yet. It has another lock I was not taught to break into," the young woman claimed as Bronn chuckled.

"I would not think you were taught to break into anything," he said.

"Father who sired me was a blacksmith, my whore mother and he had an arraignment, I would sit with him a handful of hours of the day and she'd earn her coin without me needing to see it or participate early on unless I wished too, I learned smith tradework before learning the whorehouse," Tana smiled as Shae praised her.

"Talented girl," Shae commented.

"Well, let me give it a try with you," Bronn urged as the two quickly examined the lock. "Looks like it is from Yi-Ti," Bronn announced with a sigh. Producing a knife he shrugged. "See if the old way still works," he claimed as he was able to wedge the knife in there with the girls and together the three pried it open, it broke his knife but he tossed it before opening the chest. He frowned at seeing clothes and a few crowns before freezing as he spied a jeweled hilt. "What?" Bronn questioned.

"What is it?" Tyrion asked. Coming closer as Shae helped look while Tana kept guard.

"A sword," Bronn spoke as Shae pulled a golden crown out, the large thick gold piece heavy in her hands. Made for a man obviously, with symbols of the Faith.

"Blackfyre," Tyrion breathed as he saw the familiar hilt of heavy Valyrian steel and a type of leather Tyrion had seen in the Old Sept protected by glass. "That's dragon leather," he spoke in awe. Touching the hilt as he felt the old worn leather.

"Blackfyre? Isn't that one of the Tararyen swords?" Bronn asked, trying to remember from the handful of times he listened to Sansa reading while they were traveling. She had a book of Targaryen artifacts that her sister started her on, one of her maids had smuggled the book from her chambers when they fled King's Landing, knowing the Princess enjoyed reading at times.

"Aegon the Conqueror's sword," Tyrion confirmed.

"Why would a magister have a weapon like this?" Bronn asked, looking around.

"Because he wished us to give this chest to the boy Young Griff. Obviously, he thinks quite highly of an imposter," Tyrion frowned before sighing as he was unsure how to do this.

"I'll take it Daenerys, Jon will at least recognize me," Bronn said as Tyrion paused, not wanting his friend to get hurt. "I will be fine," he reassured before wrapping the blade up. "If he is not a Targaryen then it should not go to him but to the Queens. Yes?" Bronn asked. He knew the value of a Valyrian blade as he was there when Tywin became angry at learning that Ser Barristan had taken the sword Ice. The shouting of the value of a sword like that could have done for Joffrey or given their family more Valyrian steel after their's was lost.

"How will I explain you leaving? You are meant to offer your sword up-"

"To Daenerys. Not this boy who I know is no Targaryen. Why would he not have been raised alongside his so-called aunt and uncle when this Mopatis man cared for them?" Bronn asked Tyrion smiled.

"Wise question, my friend. Be safe," he urged as the swordsman nodded and shouldering everything, disappeared once night fell and he donned black clothing to blend in better. It would not be until morning when Tyrion already sealed the trunk once more and planned on how to prove this boy's falsities without losing his head and the girls who were to travel with him. And as a blue haired man approached, Tyrion knew he needed to be careful and ensure they did not reveal themselves to the group.

XLVI

End of the chapter! I hope ya'll liked it. I was struggling with writer's block with this chapter so if I messed up, I'm sorry, I'll probably go through it again to fix whatever mistakes I made. Please review!

~Rusty14~