A/N: I just wanted to thank those who were kind enough to take the time to review the last chapter: KingInTheNorth27, boyo77, Malser, HayakuHayaku, sleepypanda710, RedHood001, 14omega, and 'Guest.' The last chapter was very challenging to write and I definitely wasn't feeling my best/most confident when I posted it, so it was really rewarding to receive your kind words and encouraging reviews. I really appreciated it.

"That is not dead which can eternal lie, and with strange aeons even death may die,"- H.P. Lovecraft's The Call of Cthulhu

Farwynd & Fire

By Spectre4hire

22: Pentos III

It had to be.

Daenerys had never seen it before, but she heard Viserys speak about it often. Longing for it like it was a beautiful maiden just for him, but there was nothing beautiful about what was in front of her. The Iron Throne more resembled a steel monster with its twisted spikes and jagged edges.

The hall she was in was lined with lions, golden and proud. Their mouths were red and roaring. Tall windows cut through stone and wood, shining with a greenish glow. Confused, she approached one of them, looking down to see a blazing sea of green fire rolling over everything in its path. In the distance, she heard a dragon roar, and the bells tolled. And then she opened her eyes.

She blinked in her surroundings to see she was back in her bedchambers. A dream, she realized with relief. It had all been a dream. Daenerys reached out to her husband's side of the bed, but her hand touched nothing but empty space.

"Dagon?" She sat up, spotting him just after she called out to him in the suffocating silence.

"I'm here." He stood out on the balcony with his back to her.

Daenerys rose from the bed, tasting a salty, burning tinge on her tongue. The drowning, it was the last thing she remembered before that dream. Nightmare, she corrected, not wanting to dwell on that monstrous chair and green flames.

"A Targaryen princess blessed by the Drowned God," Dagon remarked coolly, "You were perfect," he was still looking out onto the bay. "I brought you back afterwards. The hour was late, and you were exhausted."

"Thank you." She hoped she hadn't embarrassed him, needing help.

"I'd do anything for you," he turned to her then. His eyes were blue and smiling. In a few strides he was in front of her and then lifting her up and holding her. "You're mine."

She happily accepted his embrace, smiling into his chest, and holding onto him, but his hold on her never loosened, it only tightened. "Dagon?" She looked up to see a stranger's face with bruised, blue lips twisted into a sharp smile.

Terrified, Dany tried to slip out of his arms, but he held on too tight.

"I've gone to Valyria and back for you, princess."

She heard a ripping sound and watched in silent horror as four more arms slithered out of his body, latching themselves onto her, pinning her in a smothering embrace. In one of his hands, he held a dagger, slashing at her belly, but there was no pain. She whimpered when she felt a warmth sliding down her and when she looked down, she saw a small, misshapen skull slip out of her and clatter to the ground, shattering into pieces filled with wiggling maggots. She screamed, falling into the abyss, but even then, she wasn't free. His voice followed her into the darkness: "When the kraken mates with the dragon, let all the world beware."

In a sea of black, Dany could see without light, and she could swim without air. She breathed in her surroundings without panic or pain, pushing forward through the murky waters, aiming for a sliver of light that gave her a teasing twinkle. In what felt like a few strokes, she wiggled herself through the crack to see something was waiting for her.

It was a shapeless face, shimmering and moving in such a way that it reminded her of those great schools of fish. It was Him. And the revelation instinctively made her bow her head.

"I am that I am." His voice was inside her mind. As strong as the sea itself. "You will do great wonders in My name." His face flowed in the water, shiny, but undefined. "It will be a time of great war," his voice crashed against her mind like a wave. "The Seven Kingdoms must run red with blood, rivaling the seas themselves, but tribute must be given." The roaring of the tide rushed in her ears. "Your triumphs will be sung for a hundred generations. Do you want to see?"

"Yes."

"Then come to me, daughter of death."

Daenerys swam to Him and with a few strokes she was surrounded by shimmering silvers and shiny darkness as the fish swirled all around her, sending her up, up, up. "What will I see?" Thinking of those green flames, and of that terrifying stranger. "What have I seen?"

"Things that will come. And things that have come. Things that won't, and things that might," The voice was beginning to recede like the retreating tide. "Things that have happened to you, but not you."

She didn't understand, but the waters around her rippled until suddenly she was in the sky, flying above a boiling sea of smoldering wreckage, the remains of some great naval battle. Masts stuck out of the water like tombstones, while other ships burned, bodies and flotsam floated in a bubbling sea that had gone red with blood. A shredded golden banner dipped limply before the sea rose to consume it all.

All was swept away, and in a swirl, she found herself standing in the hall of some great lord. A headless man watched her from where he sat at the high table. Daenerys had stepped into the middle of some great, celebratory feast, but everywhere she looked she saw only corpses. This was a feast of death and silence. She looked back to see heavy oak doors, and considered retreating, but she didn't. I have to see. She stepped deeper into the hall to see the host's head was resting on the plate in front of him.

Beside him sat a bloated, naked woman, her corpse puffy and pale. Her wet, wispy hair was tangled and the color of blood. And beneath her chin she gave Dany a red smile. The doors suddenly opened, and two men came in. She thought they were men. Their bodies were men. Their steps were men, until she looked, and saw each had a gigantic wolf's head crudely sewn upon their shoulders. One grey and the other white. A ghastly gust of air passed through the room, the cheers of the dead. The two silently took their seats, one beside the headless man, and the other beside the drowned woman. They wore crowns of iron atop their wolf heads, and they turned to her, waiting.

Daenerys fled from them, pushing on the solid oak doors with all her might, feeling the gazes of a hundred corpses scratching at her skin. The door finally budged open, giving way with an old groan, and the rusty hinge screamed as she pushed. She slipped as soon as the opening was wide enough. The door closed behind her, and she leaned against it. Her insides writhed and her ears filled with the pounding of her heart. She steadied herself after a few reassuring breaths, and only then did she look around the new room she found herself in.

In front of her was a dead dragon. Its leathery wings ripped, and shredded. Its body was broken and torn. The dragon's serpentine neck bent and twisted; glassy eyes looked at her in a silent plea. The scales were shiny with blood which pooled out of half a dozen wounds and gashes. The blood was so hot steam rose from it. Wolves and lions tore into the corpse with a savage hunger. They looked up with bloody jaws, growling, they moved together to surround the dead dragon, defending their kill.

She backed away expecting to feel the heavy presence of the oak doors, but instead she backed into nothing. She turned around to see she was once more in the throne room from her first dream, but this time there was no greenish glint that hung in the room. And the hall was not empty, someone was sitting on the Iron Throne.

"Viserys?" Daenerys called to the king who looked so familiar.

The figure on the throne smiled and shook his head.

And in an instant, she knew, and she was gone.

What will I see? She heard her earlier question play before her, echoing in the silence.

He answered. "Everything and nothing."

His answer was different. Was it a taunt or was it the truth? She didn't know, but she knew she had to continue.

Daenerys walked into a different hall. She saw neither corpses nor wild animals. The seats were empty, but on the tables, she saw plates covered with half eaten food, jugs full of wine, but there were no guests. It's as if they all got up and left. On one wall she saw etches, but they had long faded. These stories were put to stone, so they could be remembered, but now they were lost and forgotten. It wasn't just stories, she saw a standard engraved in a place of pride and honor, but it had morphed into an indistinguishable mess.

She took a step and felt something wet. She looked down to see the floors were wet with blood. She slowly walked through it, trying not to think how it was still warm. From the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of lightning. Dany turned and made for the gilded window.

In the distance she saw a mountain burning, streams of blood and gold weeping down its sides. She looked down to see a great city was on fire. A Dothraki horde left the sacked, burning city, with a train of plunder and slaves drifting behind them like a great curving tail. They were led by a great, fiery stallion, who urged them forward with an insatiable hunger.

"The paths you must take. And the paths you have taken." His voice was pounding inside her head like waves against a crag. "You've taken all paths and no paths." He assured her, "Only I've seen them all."

The window in front of her rippled and showed her new things. She now saw a vast sea with a white mouth. When the mouth opened, dragons came out with smoke and fire, and thunder filled the sky. Great winged shadows flew over a screaming city, the tops of their tall pyramids glowed like lit tapers. Voices called to the sky; in a hundred different tongues they all said the same word: Mother.

Daenerys saw a great red castle high on a hill, covered in golden flowers with blood tipped thorns. Under a falling star, a woman sobbed, and with her last breath, she clung to her dying babe, and she cursed his name. A three eyed wolf howled until it was silenced by a pale shadow with a sword made of ice. A drowned crow flew ahead of an oncoming storm. Sparrows crossed a sea of blood-stained stars. On a burning ship, a horn sounded, and stone cracked, filling the air with smoke and song. Sitting atop a throne made of golden lions, he sat and smiled, a bloody sword across his lap, a crowded hall of phantoms bowed and waited in resigned silence. A black, oily shadow convulsed with life, and in each of its seven smoky tendrils, it clung to a naked maiden.

Atop a hill, she stood with Dagon, beneath towering bones that rose from the ground like tall, pale trees. They were surrounded by an army of ironborn lords, and captains, warriors, and raiders. And beyond them she saw a city of ships waiting, their black sails bore her family's red three-headed dragon. When her husband placed the crown atop her head, the army's cheer was so great, the ground trembled. And at Daenerys' call, the dragons came, emerging from a boiling sea.

Under a dazzling dome of shining crystal and glittering gold, a great crowd had gathered, each wearing the same star shaped badge. When the two words were spoken, words never before said, for a cause never before borne, the crowd ignited in religious fervor. When the Brambled Queen rose from her ivy throne, they marched. The words that spurred them into such a frenzy branded themselves onto her heart: holy war.

A song of steel filled her ears, and the roar of battle fell upon her like rain. And then everything was burning. Her eyes, her throat, her face. It even swelled in her mouth with its acrid taste. The light followed, pouring into her vision. She felt the bubbling water rising in her throat. Dany turned onto her side and heaved. Again and again, she gagged, coughing it all up. The salt water in her stomach, her lungs, anywhere it had filled her, she brought it up now, scorching her throat. In her shaking fit, she could hear them talking. Their voices splintered through her hazy mind, prying her awake, jolting her to remember.

Daenerys didn't wait for their command or their help. She dug her hands into the sand and pushed herself up.

"You have drowned and been returned to us. What is dead may never die."

"What is dead may never die." Blearily, she saw her husband, Daenerys stood straight and proud. The words scraped up her sore throat, but she pushed through the pain, knowing the words, and wanting to live by them: "But rises again, harder and stronger."

The next night Dagon was still thinking about his wife's drowning. God, he had wanted to take her right then and there on the beach. How many lords and reavers content themselves by wetting their brows and calling it a drowning? Not my wife, he thought proudly.

"What are you thinking of husband?"

The night was getting late, as they stood outside the manse waiting for their carriage to arrive. She stood beside him wearing the plain clothes of a sailor, dark trousers and a tunic made from the famous Farwynd thread, but the drab cloth couldn't diminish her beauty. Her silvery hair done in a simple plait shone in the moonlight. "My blessings," He answered, "That I've been given a wife of salt and steel. That our people have been given a Lady blessed by His water."

His lady wife's former shyness seemed to fade with each passing day, and with each passing compliment he gave her, her smiles grew surer. "I only remember pieces," she confessed, a tinge of disappointment that brought a slight twist to her lips, uprooting her smile.

He had told her afterwards not to be discouraged when she could recall only so little of what happened. The drownings took them to a place of pure belief.

"But some things have become clearer," she revealed.

"What things?"

"I saw war," her purple eyes glazed in recollection, "And I saw," she turned her gaze upwards to the shining stars above them, "dragons."

"Dragons?" Excitement kindled in him. The return of dragons. It was an astonishing thought.

Their carriage rumbled into view, surrounded by armed riders and soldiers. The procession of hooves, and footsteps and wheels made the couple put aside dragons and dreams. When the company got closer, they got his wife's attention despite how they dressed to hide their differences. They all bore the same features-broad shoulders, narrow waists, flat stomachs, and long arms. When they stopped, the soldiers fell on their knees to kneel before them while the riders attempted to dismount, but Dagon stopped them. Making them settle for bowing as low as they could on their mounts.

"M'lord Dagon," the lead rider's voice came out as a wet hiss from behind her silken helm. All he could see of her face was her large and luminous eyes. "We apologize for the delay."

Dagon was so used to them he forgot how they sounded to others until he caught his wife's reaction at hearing them speak. She quickly recovered, and her slip went unnoticed since they were all staring at him. "I was aware of it, Uxia," He had watched their progress from the skies, and the mention of his ability sent them into a quiet frenzy that he tried to stop with his next words. "I'm glad you came."

"We always answer the call, m'lord," The others murmured in their foreign, rasping tongue their own affirmations to the three oaths. She made a gesture with her gloved hand, and a pair of them scurried up from their knees to open the carriage doors for them. "And we are honored to finally meet your mate, m'lord."

Not everything translated so neatly. "Princess Daenerys of Dragonstone," Dagon presented her to them, and they bowed before he finished.

His wife was quick enough to catch on despite not understanding what was being said. "An honor to meet you all."

Dagon translated for her.

Uxia's horse gave a nervous whinny at the wet clicking sound she made. "I will lead the way, m'lord." Her luminous eyes with their exotic slant went from his wife to Dagon before bowing her head and with a silent command, her horse cantered off.

Dagon gave his thanks to the soldiers who opened their door, letting Daenerys go in and then him. "M'lord," they murmured in their raspy voices, like Uxia their heads and faces were covered, so only their eyes could be seen from behind their veils. When the door closed behind him, the carriage jerked to life.

"What language are they speaking?"

"An old one."

"And you can speak it?" She asked her questions so softly; they were lost in the loud rumbling of the carriage wheels.

"Enough of it," he answered. In his years since making a pact with them, the only others to have been able to learn it well enough to understand had been Ramsay and then more recently the Naathi translator, he had taken as a thrall after killing her former master. "They're my Fish Speakers."

"Can they-"

He shook his head, knowing what she was going to ask. It was the name they chose when they came to him to serve, and in some ways, he understood how well it fit them. When he had told her about his fleet, his operations, he had told her about them, but he had been vague with some of the details. "Do you remember when I told you I had a Sothoros outpost?" She nodded, "That's where they hail from, a small island, Ynmothos. They have a harbor in the town of Red Marsh."

"I've never heard of it," she said, "or them."

"They are very shy," he settled on the word with only some reluctance. They kept mostly to their ships when docked in foreign ports. Though, it wasn't fear that made them hide their faces. It was their faith. Dagon had always found them to be strangely enchanting despite their deformities which included their webbed hands and feet. Their differences didn't stop there, like with the Ibbenese or their Brindled Men neighbors, their women couldn't breed with outsiders.

"Can you tell me about them?" She asked, "I wish to know since they're our allies." Dagon nodded. "And their language too, if I can."

Again, he nodded, not surprised by his wife's determination. He suspected if another could learn it, it would be her. She had a good grasp on different languages having picked up several during her exile with her brother.

"They seem very deferential to you," Despite not understanding them, his wife missed very little.

Though, they don't try to hide it, he thought dryly, of their bowing and prostrating. "Years ago, I came across slavers who had taken some of their people as slaves." The memory played before him clearly despite the years between then and now. "I dealt with the slavers," he said, slowly, "and I let them go."

"You let them go?"

He could understand his wife's surprise. Slavers were expected to be killed, but their slaves had uses, as thralls or sacrifices. "Yes," he turned his gaze towards the slim carriage window, just seeing glimpses of one of their rider escorts. "They were still close to their home. A few of them spoke the common tongue and invited us to their port. We agreed."

"And that's why they're deferential to you?"

He shook his head. "One of the slave captains we killed had a brother who was expected to meet back with him, when his brother didn't show, he brought his ships, knowing where his brother was supposed to be," Dagon saw the three ships on the water coming towards them. He could still feel the power course through his veins when he brought her down on them. It was the first time they worked together since their binding. We were flawless and ruthless, proudly he remembered how seamless they were. When the last ship was pulled under by her mighty strength, he turned away, and they were all there, staring and then bowing to me.

"Dagon?"

"Yes," he cleared his throat. "I dealt with the slavers with Scylla, and they understood what happened," He said, "And what I am."

"Oh," She had only just herself learned about him being a skinchanger. Even thinking about her reaction, her easy acceptance of him nearly made him smile. Grateful for it, over the years, hers was the rarest of reactions. It took some years to get over it, to accept it, thinking of his crew while others still struggled with it, with him. He considered Gwyn a sister and Lonnie a brother, but he knew how they sometimes looked at him. They were quick to hide it, to push it down, but the fear was there. Blinking away the thoughts, he felt her smaller hand on his, this time he did smile.

"Since then, I have an outpost with them, and some of them crew my ships." Most stayed on the island, they were a clumsy and reclusive people, but those that did come with him were nimble and lethal. "They're great warriors and swimmers." And he used their awareness of his ability to his advantage. Dagon looked to see she was considering everything he told her of them, and he knew enough of his wife to know she had more questions about them, and he couldn't fault her for that, they were a proud and peculiar people. He didn't wait for the question, he just started at the beginning.

They were outside Pentos when he finished speaking of them, but they still had some distance to travel before they reached where they were going.

"Are we close?"

He shook his head. "We're getting closer."

With a finger, she brushed back the curtain that covered the window on her side. "Do you truly not plan on telling me where it is we're going?" She asked lightly.

"It's a surprise."

"Will I like it?"

"Did you like Rhaenys?" It was the only hint she'd get. It proved to be more than enough.

She smiled and nodded. "Will Scylla be there?"

He shook his head. "She's dealing with our enemies," He answered, "and we have lots of enemies." Dagon understood the burden that would come with his bride. Enemies test our strength. And his marriage brought him more. Enemies test our resolve. It didn't matter how important or powerful they were. Enemies test our faith. "What do you want to do with him?"

"I want him dead," she answered without hesitation. "His brother killed mine." Her face hardened. "Blood for blood."

He nodded; he'd not deny her a chance for retribution.

"Can she, do it?"

"Man has not built a structure that my sweet Scylla can't destroy," he said confidently. Be it ships or castles, or walls, if she can reach it, we can destroy it. Nor have the gods created a creature to stop her. Balerion himself would fall to her if the dragon was foolish enough to fly close to our domain. "But there's the matter of his ship." Through Mary's eyes he had visited it many times. "Fury is a great ship. It would be such a waste to have Scylla crush it."

"What are you suggesting?"

"We kill the stag and keep the ship," Dagon said, "Imagine the Usurper's reaction when he learns that not only is his brother dead, but the flagship of his royal fleet now flys the Targaryen banner." Seeing the change in her expression, he could tell she was imagining it and she liked it. A lot.

"How do we do it?"

That part of the ploy was still only vague outlines, but they had time. Something, Lord Renly was running out of.

On a very secluded part of the Bay of Pentos, two of his fish speakers quietly rowed her and Dagon on a small boat.

"Why out here?" she asked, looking around for any sign of them. "Isn't your dock private?"

"It is, but many ships still pass through there," He answered, "I don't take chances with him." Dagon was very protective of him, especially when they docked in cities. They had met when Grond was being hunted and attacked by Ibbenese whalers, the leviathan called for help, reaching out, Dagon heard, and answered. They killed every whaler before sinking the ship, because the truth had to die with them.

And then Grond rose from the bay. A white island unto himself, the leviathan's greeting filled the air with its sweet music. Shooting up a spout of water and mist that rose high into the night sky.

Just off the portside of their ship, their small rowboat endured the best they could, the swells the leviathan made with its enormous presence. He stood up, able to maintain his balance. Part of him was already gone, going through the crystal door inside his mind where he and Grond were one. Through the leviathan's eyes, he saw himself standing on the ship, chuckling. It was a dizzying experience, saddling himself between two beings, maintaining the bridge between their minds. "Come on," he offered his hand to his wife.

Daenerys took it, rising from her seat, but she still looked confused onto the where. Until her eyes went back to Grond, and he saw it click for her.

"On him?" She asked softly, as if afraid she'd give offense.

"Yes," he said. "It doesn't hurt him." Dagon never would've done it if it did. He only regretted that her first experience riding a leviathan was tucked away in a small spot of the bay instead of on the open seas. Reassured, she now looked thrilled at the idea, holding onto his hand, they jumped in. Grond had lowered himself in such a way that the top of his great size stuck out of the water like a sandbar making it easy for him and Dany to reach.

Daenerys proved a natural leviathan rider. "This is incredible!" her eyes were constantly moving, taking in the seas, the skies, the leviathan they were atop of. She hadn't stopped smiling.

Dagon smiled, enjoying watching his wife enjoy herself. She truly was of the sea. They were soon joined by the others, a pair of fins coming off their right side. A great grey one and a curved black one, "Do you remember Mera?"

"I do," Dany looked pleased to see the great white shark and spotted whale, "but you never told me why the name Mera."

"Mera's a sea goddess," he had thought it a fitting name for his friend. "She's the mother of all mermaids." And somewhere above their heads, he knew Sam was flying and watching them.

All in all, Dagon thought it was a night well spent.

A/N: Did you like that fake out in the beginning? The cliché dream within a dream within a drowning/dream.

I always liked the visions Dany gets in the books and thought with her technically dying that her drowning could be a way of showing them. However, not all the ones she sees here will come true. Think of it as Dany is seeing a multiverse of worlds and possibilities of how her life played out including canon (book and show) and alternate universes. Some of what she sees is real foreshadowing, but not all of it. I cheated and mixed the real ones with references and red herrings.

It's obvious that I copied/was inspired by several of Martin's visions when writing them. And with others I went in my own direction, in the end, I didn't try to make any of them too difficult b/c Dany wasn't going to remember them. They're more for you all, so I hope you liked them. In regard to 'the Drowned God' seen, if you want to believe that's Him, then that's fine. And if you want to believe that's not Him b/c Dany was seeing things that's also fine.

From the early stages, I planned on Dagon having an outpost. I thought it just made sense and that was that. However, as the story grew, the idea of the outpost began to slowly change, until it got to a point where it was inspired partly by "The Hero of Canton" from Firefly, but with a whole lot of Lovecraft and a few other influences. Everything about these people and their island, I made up, they don't exist in ASOIAF, but since Martin's world is filled with so many Lovecraft references, I just thought it only natural to throw in a few more.

And speaking of references, Fish Speakers is from the Dune series. I just liked the name and thought it worked. Scylla the name of Dagon's kraken is from Greek Mythology, but there exists a Scylla in the Drowned God mythos that I'll get to in a later chapter. Him thinking she can take on Balerion is just showing us his biases.

The idea of leviathan riding was considered and dismissed several times before I just decided to leave it in since this is just a story of harmless fun and bracing silly elements. I left how it was done vague because I couldn't decide on all the finer details at the moment.

This was a fun chapter to write, and I hope it was a fun chapter to read. If you enjoyed it, please consider leaving a review. It would mean a lot to me. Thank you.

Until next time,

-Spectre4hire