A/N: This chapter picks up a little after where Chapter 12 left off.

Farwynd & Fire

By Spectre4hire

15: The Gift

The sea of stars glimmered along the glassy surface of the Bay of Pentos.

They sat side by side on his dock, their feet dangling over the water. The kiss was behind them, but the heat in her belly hadn't faded. The mere thought of it, had her recalling his taste on her lips, his hands on her, skimming along her bare skin. Hers on him, gripping and appreciating the firm muscle that lay beneath the silks. Besides the brief appearance of a thrall who brought them wine and sweet cakes, they were left alone in the starlight.

I used to go to bed each night afraid. Now, she didn't want this night to end. Dany worried that this was all some dream, and she'd wake up to find herself back in Tyrosh or Volantis, squatting in an alley, like they had so many times before. She picked up one of the cakes, more food than she'd sometimes eat in a couple days during the hard times. This would be a terrible dream, she decided, before taking her first bite. Because of how cruelly it teased her with what she could never have. To wake would be to return her to her brother, whom she still cared for. She had to. He's all I have. She'd tell herself, all I hope to have.

He was her brother who was supposed to be her king, her husband, the father of her children. That future was so certain in her mind for so long, but no longer. Now it was written in the sand that was swept away by the tide. A new and better future emerged, and one she'd run towards instead of fleeing like the ones before.

She leaned into his side, comforted by his presence. "Could you tell me another story?"

In the quiet of the night, he had been telling her stories of his people. He had told her of Gwayne, a knight, who had been called, The Salty Ser. He went on several quests for powerful and influential ironborn to try to prove the Seven's strength and virtues. And then finally of his eventual failure and death.

To change our faith is as foolish as trying to reshape the sea.

She quickly learned that not all of the stories were as clear as Ser Gwayne's.

"Why so many?" she had asked, after hearing several tales of why the sea was salty. He had only told her three versions, but apparently there were several more.

One reason had been the actions of a jealous son, wanting to cast out the Drowned God's newest creation-ironborn from His Father's watery domain. While another told it was due to the tears of a goddess forever in mourning for all she had lost, and another spoke of it being from a poisoned gift after one of the Drowned God's suitors had been spurned.

"Different islands, tell different stories," he had answered. "Different kings, and different priests, all who wanted different messages, different songs."

Which led to more different stories since they would stem from the other tales.

Dany was struggling to keep them all together, but she enjoyed them all. Such as the different telling of why the ironmen left the sea. It was said by some because of it being salty. They could no longer drink its water. They ascended onto land, with bare bodies and bold hearts, ready to start anew. While others claimed they rose out of the sea, to serve the Drowned God, and to conquer new lands just as He had conquered the sea. Another telling was they left for the surface because of a war between the merlings, vying for His favor. So, to keep the peace between His children, the ironmen moved onto the lands to worship Him while the merlings kept to the sea.

"Certainly," He seemed pleased by her enjoyment of them. "There was Ceta, she was a sea goddess and a wife of the Drowned God, who was tasked to create guardians of the sea to protect their dominion and creatures of war for His endless fight against the Storm God. This is how leviathans and kraken and sharks were born into our world."

She listened to him intently, as she finished her second sweet cake. Her eyes on the stars shining reflection in the water. "A leviathan rider?" She asked, after Dagon spoke of the Drowned God and Ceta's son being one.

"Yes," he never chided her for interrupting. She didn't have to fear his anger like with her brother, and the wroth her interruptions would stoke within him and the pain that would follow. "Think of them as your knights who ride horses." He said, before he changed his mind, adding. "Except they carried many men instead of just one."

She tried to. Picturing large leviathans with many riders along their back and sides. How many could they carry? She saw them swimming through the sea, carrying them into one of the many battles Dagon spoke of. Daenerys heard his next words: of how the son of the Drowned God and Ceta was his leviathan's only rider. She saw this son, alone, atop his leviathan, and he looked like Dagon, resembling the heroes in her favorite tales.

"He died in a great battle," his voice punctured the idyllic image she had nurtured in her head. "So, the Drowned God taught leviathans how to speak and to sing, so that their son's death would never be forgotten."

She felt a sad smile play on her lips, having heard their songs during her and her brother's countless trips across the Narrow Sea. Daenerys had always been struck by the eerie beauty of their songs.

"Songs are the memories of life and love," he said softly. His silhouette was alight in the glow of the stars. "They are the lifeblood of our people. It's why our skalds are so revered."

What songs will we have? She wondered, and hoped there were many. Dany touched his cheek, making him turn to her, and she kissed him again. A chaste touching of their lips. "Could you tell me another?"

"As many as you like, Dany."

She felt her belly flip, at how he said her name. He sealed that promise with a kiss.

"Do you know why there is lightning?"

She shook her head, not trusting her voice after their latest kiss. Her body was flush, warm against the nightly breeze.

He started from the beginning. "In one of their early battles, He wounded the Storm God, three drops fell into the sea. The godly essence frothed in the salty sea, and emerging from the seafoam, was the Storm God's daughter, a beautiful maiden. She had barely taken in not just this new world, but of her own father when the Drowned God took her, pulling her into the sea and claiming her. She would become His first concubine taken. We would eventually call those women salt wives."

Salt wife, she had only recently learned the difference between Rock and Salt wife. Daenerys was to become Dagon's rock wife. She was familiar with men taking multiple wives, knowing her own ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror, took both his sisters as his brides. The tradition went even further back to the days of the Valyrian Freehold, but she knew the ironborn way was not the same as what her ancestors had practiced.

He had taken no salt wife before her. She would be his first wife, but she didn't know if she was to be his only one. She had asked him if he planned to, the question had slipped out of her lips like a breath. He gave no answer. His voice swept away her thoughts before they could fester, leading her back to his story.

"When the lightning lights up the sky, it's the Storm God looking for his lost daughter. And the thunder is his rage because he can't find her."

"Dagon," both heads turned to see Gwyn Farwynd walking down the dock. "The hour is getting late."

"Of course," he stood before offering her his hand to help her, which she took. He then turned back to his kin. "Do you, have it?"

She nodded, and Dagon smiled. "Your gift, princess. Though it's a poor gift after what you've given me." He handed her what she thought was a toy.

It was a ship. She looked down to see it was skillfully carved and painted. Thank you," she appreciated the many, fine details of the tiny ship. She thought it would make a good decoration.

"That's your ship, Princess," he returned to addressing her formally, now that they were no longer alone.

"My ship?"

"Dagon has given you the ownership of one of his ships, Princess," Gwyn explained. "You'll receive an owner's cut of its cargo and contents whenever it makes port. You'll make more on your travels before you even reach Asshai than all the gold your brother has been given."

Dany blinked; the ship suddenly felt heavier. Another gesture, another gift. "It's too much," she offered it back to him. She knew it was part of his courtship, but it didn't lessen the inadequacy that lingered on her heart like a bruise. "I don't deserve such gifts." The model ship wobbled in her hand. "I've given you nothing."

"Our marriage will give us the Iron Islands, Princess," He reached out his hand, but not to take the ship from her. "You will give me sons and daughters," he closed her fingers around the gift. "Their worth is far more than any gift I've given or could give you, Daenerys."

His hand lingered over hers. She looked to their joined hands and then to him. I could drown in those eyes. Deep blue and inviting, her heart fluttered in her chest.

"She still needs a name."

A name? She hesitantly returned her attention back to the gift. She recalled all the names of the ships she traveled on, and those she had read about. But it was a different one that came to her, a name rising above them all. "I want to name her after my mother," she decided, "The Queen Rhaella."

"Your septa bit your brother?" Her sides were hurting from all her laughing.

They were in Dagon's carriage traveling to his manse. He had arrived later in the afternoon, closer to supper than luncheon. During their ride, he had been telling her stories about his life as a boy growing up. There were no chaperones with them, just like with the night before. Her brother had become so consumed by all his gold and transfixed by his new future, he had been too distracted to consider her, all but discarding me. It was more freedom than she ever had, and she savored every precious second of it.

"No, not a septa," he corrected, "Septa, it's the name of one of our seals." He sat across from her. His presence seemed to dominate their small compartment.

"You keep seals as pets?" the more she heard about Lonely Light, the more she wished to visit it and see its wonders for herself.

"Yes, we have several. My family's been breeding them for centuries."

She tried to picture a castle where instead of hounds, the lords kept seals. It was a difficult image for her to conjure, and what bubbled up, made her want to giggle, because of how silly it seemed.

"We breed seagulls as well. We use them as our messengers."

"Not ravens?" She frowned. Dany had never learned about other birds that were used in the Seven Kingdoms to dispatch messages.

"At seas, a seagull is more reliable," Dagon answered, "My family has perfected the creature." He brushed aside the dark curtain, a glimmer of sunlight cut in like a blazing knife. "And we use them at Lonely Light after my grandfather banned ravens."

"Banned them?"

"Yes." He kept his eyes out their window.

"What if a lord needs to reach you?"

"A raven can be sent to Lonely Light, but it will not return," his tone conveyed what happened to any visiting raven. "One of our seagulls will then deliver our response. Lonely Light does not receive a lot of messages, and those castles who do correspond with us regularly, have a seagull they use." He twisted the curtain between his fingers, causing glimpses of fluttering sunlight to fill the compartment. The light moved like it was a living thing. "My home is not like the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, Princess."

"I still wish to see it," She was pleased at the small smile her words brought to his lips.

"Then you will," he turned to her, still smiling.

She smiled, the memories of their kisses from the night before played before her. A warm flush creeped up her neck. Dany was about to lean forward, spurred by her newfound boldness, when their carriage gave another jolt. Her teeth clicked together, and she tightened her grip on the cushioned armrests to keep from toppling out of her seat. The jarring discomfort doused her desire for another kiss, like tossing water onto a fire. Afraid that if she tried again, she'd embarrass herself. Me sprawling into him, hitting his nose with the crown of my head. She dispelled that humiliating picture with a question that had been on her mind as he talked about his days in Lonely Light. "What about your youngest brother?" He was the one she knew the least about.

"He's a squire at Stone Hedge. Lord Jonos says Yohn is the best rider he's ever seen," He answered, with a hint of pride that her own brother would never hold for her. "I have no doubt my brother could win any race or tourney against the best knights of the realm." His smile seemed slyer with his brotherly boast.

She saw parts of Pentos pass them by from the corner of her vision. "Will he become a knight?"

"My brother is both free and burdened to choose his own path, but I know no anointed oils could turn my brother's heart against Him." His countenance shifted. "Knight or not, I do know that he wishes to wed one of Lord Bracken's daughters, and that I can and will help him with."

"Your brother is grateful to have you," she thought of her own brother, and a sour feeling swelled in her belly. It's not all his fault, she reasoned. She and Viserys didn't have the same pleasant memories that Dagon had. What childhood I had died behind the red door in Braavos along with Ser Willem. A pang of melancholy went through her as she thought of the old knight and all he had done for her. There were no fun memories of playing games for her and her brother. They were chased from one city to the next, fearful of their lives, of the very real dangers in the dark. Running and hiding, those were the games she knew. Hunger and fear were my childhood companions. Her face must have betrayed her thoughts.

"Princess?"

"Do you think my brother will be a good king?" She asked, unsure of what caused the sudden shift in her thoughts. It had been nettling her these past few days, especially now that their marriage was all but certain. Does Dagon see something in Viserys that I can't? Daenerys knew her brother was the rightful king. That the Seven Kingdoms were his to rule, but she had seen so many allies over the years, close their doors to them. The Golden Company laughed at him, after eating his food and hearing his pleas. Did they reject him because of their chances or was it his character?

"Since the first man crowned himself a king, there have been bad men who made good kings, and good men who made bad kings."

So, you think- she was about to ask, about to hope her brother would be one such bad man who could be a good king, until he finished his thought.

"But, no, I don't think your brother will be a good king, but he's necessary for what I want."

"And what's that?"

"The Iron Islands," he said, "and you."

"You'd go to war for it?" For me?

"Yes," he kept his voice low, but she could hear the fire in his tone. "If you kill a man, they call you a murderer and take your head, but kill thousands," he let his words hang in the air, the dark implications of what was to come. "They'll name you a king and place a crown atop your head."

She thought of the wars they would bring to restore her brother to the Iron Throne, to make her and Dagon the rulers of the Iron Islands, and all the deaths that would come with it. I am the blood of the dragon. She reminded herself to gain her courage. Ours is taken with fire and blood. Daenerys then turned her gaze to the window, upwards into the blue sky, her dream from the night before coming back to her.

It rose out of the sea, scales glimmering in the sunlight. The seawater on its body sizzled, turning to steam hiding some of its beauty from her. It streaked through the sky like a lightning bolt. A blur of color covered in a fading mist, before she could see it in all its glory, it spiraled towards the sea, diving into the waves. A great splash rose from its graceful dive. Its head emerged after a few seconds. The water around it boiled, as a steamy haze rose around its body, concealing parts of it from view. Its bright eyes could still be seen, and they were on her.

"Princess?" The word nudged the dream away.

"Dany," she was still looking out the window. "I wish you to call me Dany."

"Dany," He obliged her.

It sent a shiver of pleasure down her spine. "Yes?"

"Did I-" He hesitated, thinking he made a mistake in what he said to her.

"No," She told him, "I was just thinking." Her dreams wove in what she was seeing, the dragon was now flying above their carriage, hidden in the clouds, but she knew the truth. The dragons were dead. "It's silly," she dismissed, "It's more a dream I had than a thought."

"A dream?" The interest in his tone surprised her enough to turn away from the window and back to him.

She dismissed his curiosity with a smile and a wave of her hand. "It's nothing."

"Why do you say that?" She hadn't been able to shake his interest. If anything, he looked more attentive. His eyes looked her over, as if the dream was tattooed on her.

"Because it's just a dream," she felt silly speaking it aloud. She carried it like a secret. It was not something to say in the open, to others. A mistake which she meant to bury. Will he think me mad? She feared. Once the fears started, they spiraled beyond her reach, bringing with them a tumbling coldness down her back. Will her dreams be what makes him realize that she isn't worthy of his attention, his gifts. A princess in name, but a beggar in truth. Despite all his assurances, and her own growing confidence, she still worried and waited that this would end. They would end, and she'd be her brother's once more and forever.

"Wasn't it a dream that saved your family from the Doom of Valyria?"

The reminder brought pause to her rising fears. "It was," she knew about Daenys the Dreamer, and how her family had fled the Freehold, moving to Dragonstone, the place of her birth. When she looked back at him, with his encouraging eyes, she felt more of the fear ebb away, and when she felt him squeeze her hands, the last remnants of its hold fell away from her, a dying grasp that could no longer hold her.

"Dreams are messages from the Deep." His voice was grave, reciting the words with clear reverence. "One of the gifts the Drowned God gives His children."

"Gifts?" Daenerys didn't think he could actually mean her when speaking of Him and His gifts. She was not amongst them.

His nod was solemn. "We believe the Drowned God gives us gifts to make us strong, to remind us, we are made in His image. Though only some are given truly exceptional gifts."

"Do you-?"

"Yes," he answered, before she could finish her question. His stare shifted; an eerie hue fell over his gaze. "And I'll tell it to you, but after you speak of your dream."

She nodded, thinking he'd be disappointed by it. Once she started, it poured out of her, from the beginning of Viserys' hurts and taunts, of him chasing her, of her nakedness, and wounds, she bared it all to him, and when she came to the dragon finally revealing itself in her latest dream, she didn't hesitate, tethering herself to him, trusting him. "A dragon rose from the sea, but it was like none of the dragons in the book you gave me."

"A dragon?" He murmured in disbelief just as she finished speaking.

"Yes," She noticed his body had gone taut.

Their carriage was slowing down. She braced herself for the halt, but Dagon didn't even wait for it to come. He opened the door. He ignored his driver's dismay and hopped out. "Come with me," he offered her his hand, which she took without hesitation.

Dagon took her to a part of his manse she had not seen before. The walls of the corridors were covered with fine woven tapestries. She was only able to catch glimpses of them:

There were pretty mermaids swimming, a fleet of ships with white sails, a castle that seemed to rise out of the sea, a burning village, and reavers sacking a castle.

And then they were there. Two tapestries were hanging between the doors they stopped at. One was of a great white leviathan swimming away from a shipwreck and the other was of a red kraken dragging a ship into the sea.

He led her inside, having never let go of her hand. Thankfully, he had not dragged her to wherever they now were. Nor did he speak to her. He was in his own world. The room was dimly lit. He let go of her hand and went straight to a continuing tapestry that covered the walls. It was larger and more grandiose than any of the ones she saw in the corridors, and she suspected those were worth small fortunes. He moved to a particular spot. "This," he pointed to something stitched into the fabric. "Is this what it looked like in your dream?"

Daenerys took a few steps closer so she could see what it was he was pointing to. When the stitching became clear to her, she gasped. "It is," she couldn't believe it. The colors and size were different, and even though she never got a clear look, she knew in her gut that this was it. The dragon that had been in her dreams. "What is it?"

"A sea dragon."

A sea dragon, dismayed and amazed by this creature that until recently, she never knew existed. Her brother had never made mention of them. He spoke often of the dragons that were his birthright, of the ones their ancestors foolishly lost, and how the eggs could no longer hatch. These were the dragons of Dragonstone, fire made flesh, their family's legacy. That allowed them to conquer and then rule the Seven Kingdoms. These were the dragons she knew.

They were sitting at a table that she had missed when they first entered. Thralls had come in to bring food and drink, but she didn't eat, she was too excited to eat. Daenerys made sure to take a seat so she could continue looking at it. While Dagon took a seat beside her so as not to obstruct her view. The one on the tapestry, she learned, was Nagga, the first and mightiest of the sea dragons.

She was created by Ceta, a blend of water and fire, sea and sky, a creature who could take the war to the Storm God's domains. That's what Dagon had told her, those were the songs that many skalds wrote and sung. The Nagga on the tapestry, stirred to life in her mind's eye, its smaller wings flying in place, while letting out gouts of flames.

"Do they exist?" She asked with mounting excitement. "Have you seen one?"

He answered her second question first. "I've not seen one, but I've chased a rumor or two," his tone thick with disappointment. "If you asked a maester if they exist, they'd say they were myths, but no maester could ever know the sea like an ironborn and they've forgotten a simple truth: The world is filled with awe."

"What do you know of them?" She wanted to learn everything.

He was happy to indulge her. "Some will say it's impossible that they breathe fire, and mayhaps, they're right, but in the Deep, creatures lurk, nameless things, because words have yet to be created that could describe them in all their dread and glory," he said, "or that's how the songs go," he hastily added. "Ceta created special caves for them within the sea, so her dragons could breathe air since they were beings of sea and sky. This was where they dwelled and slumbered and ate. They were known to hoard great treasures from the ships they sunk."

Dany had gotten up while he spoke and returned to where Nagga was so beautifully stitched into the fabric. She knew the dragon in her dream wasn't Nagga. It couldn't be. That sea dragon was dead. Dagon had said she was killed by the Grey King, earning the begrudging respect of both Drowned God and Ceta, the former allowing him a mermaid to wed for his reward. Though Dagon went on to say that Ceta never truly forgave him for killing Nagga, and there were songs that spoke of different trials and curses the Grey King went through because of her wroth.

The excitement bubbled within her, but a question began to creep up on her. It grew and grew inside her mind until it was no longer the sea dragon she could think of, but the question: "Why me?"

"The Drowned God chose you and His will can't be easily gleaned."

But I'm not one of you. She wanted to point out, but she didn't think her words would sway him. The certainty in his faith could not be budged. "What about you?" Remembering what he told her back in the carriage. "What's yours?"

"I'll show you." He rose out of his seat. "If you truly wish to know."

"I do." She gave the tapestry with Nagga one final look before following him out.

He made no effort to tell her what his gift was as they walked through the corridor. He was satisfied with the silence, looking ahead. She wasn't even sure if he knew her hand was tucked in his arm.

"I'm not ashamed of my gift," he sensed her gaze. "I'm proud of it, and all it let me accomplish, but I must be careful with who I tell."

"Why?" She asked while secretly pleased that he was going to trust her with it when, so few others knew it.

But he never answered her, seeing two men approaching them from the other direction. She recognized them to be Ramsay Snow, Dagon's spymaster, and Lonnel, his squire.

"What is it?" He left her to approach them.

His spymaster didn't answer until he was at his side, and when he did, he whispered it to him, but watching his face, his expression didn't change, and when Ramsay finished, Dagon gave a stiff nod. He turned to her. "It seems that I must give you a different demonstration from the one I intended." He gestured for her to join them.

"Where are we going?"

Ramsay's smile was sharp and sinister. "We're going hunting."

A/N: All the lore in this chapter is stuff I just made up (except the Grey King killing Nagga). There's no basis for it in canon. That's why it's so bad. If any of it looks familiar, it's because I borrowed and bastardized pieces of different real-world mythologies. Speaking of making up stuff, I did it with the seagulls and seals too at Lonely Light.

Thanks again for all the wonderful support. It was your flood of incredible and encouraging reviews that got the muse energized and able to crank this chapter out so quickly.

Until next time,

-Spectre4hire

Other references in this chapter:

"Dreams are messages from the Deep."- Frank Herbert, "Dune"