Daenerys IV

Dany couldn't see anything.

That might have been for the best. That meant the witch hadn't torn down the wall to get her too.

Dany could hear things.

That was not for the best. As she had sat in the dark, she had heard screaming. Screaming, and crying, and begging. She had heard the roar of fire and the crashing of stone and wood. ANd she had heard her brother.

'He's dead,' she knew, as she held her knees in her arms, 'He's dead,' she remembered the sound of his screaming, of his cries of pain and begging for mercy. She had never heard her brother sound so afraid. She'd heard rage, elation and longing in his voice, sometimes a mix of all three. But she hadn't ever heard the abject terror that had been pouring from each sound he made when the witch had broken through the gate on the other end of the courtyard.

She had turned and run just as the fires had begun to engulf that wooden door, and had managed to find this small cupboard that Mata had shown her once. She hadn't seen the witch when she turned and locked the door behind her. Instead, she had just sat in complete darkness, hoping against hope that the creature of flame would not find her and give her the same fate as her brother.

And so she sat in there, and sat, and sat.

CROLUUHNNNNCCKKKK

That was the sound of something major collapsing. Mayhaps one of the walls, mayhaps the great structure of the pyre. Part of her knew that more horror was coming, that soon she would be just like all those people in the yard, engulfed in flame.

…

…

…Yet, after that great crashing sound…there were no more sounds of massive confrontation. Dany strained to hear what was occurring outside the door of her safe room, but she could not make anything out. There was the sound of burning, and some moaning, but she could not hear the great bursts of flames or screams any longer. And as this new found silence began to come over Dany, she began to notice how tight, and cramped the room around her was. She had curled up behind some boxes, but being such a tight space was beginning to become painful. The aches of her body were telling her to leave, but she could not do so. Not when the witch may still be out there. Not when she was able to hide away for a little while longer, alone and away from any danger.

"Hello there again."

"Aaagh!" Dany screamed suddenly shooting upward, and knocking the door open. She fell down, nearly tearing up her skin as she slide along the cobblestones. In her terror she turned back at the familiar voice, the one that had come to torment her but three nights before.

"You really must become better at taking in your surroundings," the tall dark skinned man with white hair and strange star-like eyes strode out of the room, only lit up by the great fire that was still roaring in the middle of the courtyard, back straight and smile wide. The mix of the dark night behind him and the roaring fire illuminating his face made him seem infernal, something she knew he'd find flattering were she to say it.

Dany did her best to crawl away from the magical being, who twisted his neck to look down on her as she did so. Dany desperately shunted her body backwards, only to catch her hand on a smashed piece of stone, sending her tumbling over herself, nearly rolling over herself. The tall stranger merely snorted, before turning to the side, and walking away from her, "You really must understand Daenerys Stormborn, I have no need of you for my plans," as he continued towards another mass of stone and wood rubble, Daenerys saw tied to his side was a long black blade.

"Blackfyre," she whispered.

"Yes," the creature said, before finally making it to the pile of stones. He seemed to look through the mess, before reaching down, and digging one hand beneath the rubble. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he pulled a body up. It took Dany straining her eyes in the dark, but she was able to see the beaten and broken form of Mairu, his face completely covered in blood his left arm bent in three places, and nearly all his teeth knocked out. At this, the dark skinned man shook his head, "Strike two my dear Mairu," he flung the broken body of the mage over his shoulder, "Though, you distraction was enough to allow me to find the second catalyst of this mission, so at least your failure makes way for my victories," and then he turned his attention past Dany, and toward the center of the courtyard, "as well as considering Viserys performance, perhaps was better that you did not succeed in using him as a vessel."

'Vessel?' Dany looked back, and to her horror, she saw the great central pyre of the wedding ablaze, with flames climbing far higher than the walls. Already many of the nearby plants had caught fire, and Dany was lucky that somehow the sparks from the blaze had not yet set fire to the debris she had been forced to crawl over. And yet, in the middle of that fire, she knew was the rema-the ashes of her brother. At the edge of her eyes, she could feel tears begin to well, 'Brother…why?'

"Goodbye Daenerys Stormborn," she turned her head back once more to the voice of the intruder, who was now on the wall, Mairu still a heap on his shoulder, "Hope for your sake we never cross paths again," and with that, he hopped over the wall, and out into Pentos once more. And then, once more, Dany was alone again.

Dany, arms and legs heavy, pushed her way up to her feet. She made an attempt to look around the yard, to at least see if the witch were still here, searching for her. Yet even this was a mere step of extreme caution, as she was sure had the witch been around during her conversation, she'd already have met her brother's fate. As she did so, she pushed her way backward from the massive burning pile of wood, she surveyed a way to escape from this place of death.

She looked at the arch that had once housed the gate that separated this courtyard from the rest of the Manse. She made sure to move carefully, eyes looking for the witch, the strange colored clothes of the witch's companions…perhaps Mata, or Rhaenys or Aegon. But as she did so, she did not see any of them.

What she did see were many of the Dothraki guards marching about the greater courtyard. Dany had seen several of them burn under the flames of the witch, but she supposed that many guards had been spread out. Enough were still alive where they had somehow taken over the entirety of the Manse.

And having made themselves masters of the place, they were taking their time raiding it of all they wanted. Dany must have been inside the storage room for longer than she had thought, for they had already had enough time to set up a large cart near the middle of the yard, with dozens of treasures having been piled into it. She could see tapestries and carpets hanging off the side of the wood vehicle, different sets of pottery and jewelry piled up together. There were piles of food, and clothes and other such things.

And there were captives. All of their hands were tied up by a short rope to the cart, and all of them seemed exhausted. From their clothes, they were mostly not the guests who had managed to survive, as those that had been about to be taken likely had offered bribes to leave. Instead, it was some serving girls, a few of the other guards who had managed to survive the witch's onslaught, and one particularly fat man who seemed to push everyone away from him with his simple girth.

"You cannot do this to me," Dany could hear Illyrio Mopatis cry into the night, "You have no right to impri-"

One of the Dothraki slapped the man across his face, and sent him tumbling up against the side of the cart. Illyiro was barley able to keep his feet from under him, but did not fall down. He then righted himself, as the Dothraki around him laughed. In particular, the one laughing the most was the one legged older man, who was pointing at Illyrio and speaking with another one. Illyrio fidgeted, and Dany almost thought about going out to try and get a better look. She did not, as if they saw her, she would likely end up tied alongside the captives, to meet their same fate.

Slavery in some foreign land. Bravos may enforce abolition in Pentos, but it was not too strict, and it would only be a short bit of work to take her out to one of the markets outside the Free City, and sell her for a sum to one of the other Sisters further south. Viserys had mused about doing so once or twice, saying that perhaps there, she would find some use, even if her chest was much too flat to be of much merit.

Instead, all she would do would be to hide here, and hope that Yenno and his band would leave with their wealth soon, and she might be able to escape on her own. She was not like her brother, trained in a courtly manner. But she was still a Targaryen, so perhaps she might be able to find some who'd take her in. Certainly, sh-

And suddenly, there was shouting. From the opposite side of the main courtyard, toward the entrance to the Mance itself, there was a great commotion. She could hear shouts, and panic, and cries of terror. Slowly, she could see several of the Dothraki around the cart back away, weapons drawn in a tight formation, with Yenno hiding at the back of the group, though with her back turned, she could not see his features.

She did hear something, though, and that was enough to chill the blood in her veins. From the whispers of the Dothraki in the small formation attempting to protect themselves, she heard the name "Drogo".

And it was then, striding forward as though he was already atop his horse, was the tallest man, let alone Dothraki, she'd ever seen. In the night wind, even without much light, she could see his long braid and twisting mustache swaying in the wind, bells jingling as they followed the hair they were tied in. The light of the great pyre reflected in his eyes, showing the rage that was clear by his mere posture.

As Drogo came around, he walked to Illyrio, and pointed at Yenno. At first, the Dothraki gang attempted to speak up, but the mighty Khal grabbed a spear, and threw it into the crowd, impaling one of the attempted supplicants. As that man fell to the ground and died, Illyrio spoke the language of the Dothraki to him, and the warlord nodded. He then pulled loose a sword, and cut the binds around Illyrio's hands, who then rubbed where the binds had once been, before pointing up past the wall, and toward the great pyre. As this was pointed out, Drogo became deathly still, fists tightening as he stared into the fire, before his head snapped toward the crowd once more.

It was then that Dany saw that Drogo was not alone. Several dozen more Dothraki followed up behind him. Slowly they pulled out their weapons, their eyes focused on the small crowd of their fellow horse riders, but Dany realized their was no kinship between them. Finally, once Illyrio finished whatever his explanation was, suddenly, a burst of speech came from the crowd.

"AAAAGH!"

And with a shout, Drogo caused them all to become silent. They all stood their for a moment, before finally Drogo raised a hand up, and pointed into the crowd. Even at this distance and angle, and with no way to know what he his words meant, Dany was able to see what he was demanding, as a sudden burst came about the group, and falling before Drogo was Yenno. The older Dothraki tried to push himself upward, but before he could do so, Drogo placed his foot between the one-legged man's shoulder blade, and said something.

The rest of the crowd scattered, running away from the scene, almost all of them giving as wide a berth as they could from the Khal. After they had long cleared out, that left only Drogo's Dothraki, the tied up servants, and Yenno. Dany was almost afraid of what this man would do to his conquered rival, only to see Drogo fidget for a moment, before stepping off Yenno's back and stare at the man's supine form. Khal Drogo then kicked Yenno over prone, and stared down, before finally throwing his hands up in the air. There was a mix of laughter and anger in the group of Drogo's, but before long, they moved from Yenno's form, and over toward the cart. After a few short moments of discussing in the Dothraki language, Drogo cut the rope from the cart, and pointed at the cart itself.

And thus, after being there for a relatively short time, Drogo left, a large dowry of left over trinkets and treasures following behind him as some kind of payment. Dany could only sigh in relief as the other slave girls and guards stepped away from the retreating horse men, and then sighed as they surrounded Illyrio.

The fat man himself…seemed to simply sigh, before pointing around. In particular, he was pointing to where one of the pumps that carried water up to the Manse was, and the few remaining servants nodded, and began to pile towards the room. As they did so, Illyrio turned, and began to walk towards the archway…and towards Dany. For a second, Dany wondered whether she could trust this man who had supposedly been planning to betray her brother…

'But, brother is gone,' Dany considered, 'And I am alone now. Illyrio is one of the only people who I have ever spoken to, and one of the only men who might be able to help me,' she took a moment to lean back and look at the great pyre, 'Everyone was always willing to help brother, but I am not him, so Illyr-'

"Princess Daenerys?"

Dany felt her cheeks warm as she lifted her head to see Illyrio staring down at her. Now closer, she could see the shock on his face, though that was almost hidden completely by the bruises, cuts and burns that populated his face. Those, alongside the fat of years, had taken a once handsome face and made it quite unappealing, but at the same time, Dany could not see some great malice in his features. Of course, she had never seen such malice in the face of Mata, and she had helped kill her brother, so-
"Princess Daenerys," Illyrio said again, his voice attempting to be calmer, "It…It is good to see you among the living," though now that Dany looked, she saw something in his voice. It was like the few times she had gone to a bazaar or a shop, and a shopkeeper had been observing Dany or Viserys, asking what they were interested in. It was…disconcerting that Illyrio was using the same voice for discussing her, "I must ask how you managed to survive all this conflagration."

"I hid in one of the storage rooms," she said quickly. For a moment, she wondered about telling him of the situation, but that was pushed away, as she realized, there was really nothing else for her to do, "I waited as they…"

"Killed your brother?" Illyrio's voice was even, as he stared down at her. She felt herself nearly choke, but she kept hold over her throat, and then nodded. Illyrio then also nodded, "Most…unfortunate," he turned his head toward the fire, "We both have lost so much, you your brother, and I," he then raised his hands around him, and Dany was able to see the ruins of the manse, "well, my wealth has fallen greatly, certainly after having to pay back Drogo for his lost wife."

Dany twitched. She looked at Illyrio, and from the way his face changed, she could tell that she wasn't hiding her fear much. He shook her head, and pointed back toward the front gate.

"By this point, Drogo thinks you are dead, and that what occurred was a riot caused by an old rival," Dany nodded, some of the fear leaving her, "No, at the moment, speaking to him again would not be the best use of you," he stretched himself, "Drogo may have an army, but for the nonce, I have no need of one. Not when what I need is money, and Drogo's offering would not help me in restoring what I have lost these past few days," he shook his head, "So many plans, so many contingencies, burst apart by that foolish mage."

"Yes Ser," Dany nodded, and Illyrio could only shake his head. Illyrio turned, and one of the few guards behind him nodded, and headed over toward the main gate, the one exit to the rest of Pentos, and closed it. Dany remembered that only three days earlier, the gate had been smashed open by Mairu and Yenno. Now, while there was damage to the door itself, it was able to close off the remains of the manse from the rest of the world once more.

'Yet how good is that,' Dany thought bitterly, 'That mage came here, and then left, taking everything from me,' Dany felt the bottom of her eyes wetten, 'My brother was taken. Mata was taken. Aegon and Rhaenys were taken. Most of the money and jewels and nice things were taken,' and suddenly, the tears were no longer content to sit at the bottom of her eyes, but rather poured downward along her cheeks, 'In three days, everything I know is gone, and I am truly and utterly alone.'

He placed a hand on her shoulder, and pointed back toward the main courtyard, "Dear girl, I say it appears that the fire is beginning to calm itself," Dany looked back, and it did appear as though the great pyre was shrinking from its great height. She stared at Illyrio, who, mayhaps for the first time since she met him, seemed to be attempting to consul her, "Your brother should be almost burnt up soon, it should be best for you to pay your respects," his eyes were latched to the pyre, eyes watery if not teary, "The world often takes what it feels you need, but at least you can mourn for what you have lost. It's one of the only gifts that the gods have provided us mere men, and we should take it up whenever we can."

Dany, still crying, grit her teeth. Part of her wished to be done with it, to never again go into that courtyard. But Illyrio was perhaps right, that she would never forgive herself for not properly seeing her brother off. He was her only family in the world, and seeing how her niece and nephew had run off with that crowd of dandies, she was the only one who could be there before he was sent off to the gods. He was the rightful King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, and she would be there to see him off, as he left to join his ancestors.

Dany walked alongside Illyrio through the gate into the courtyard. It was so dark, that all Dany could see was the pyre itself now. The smoke from the burning flames had been enough to mix with the clouds in the sky to keep the light of the moon and stars from illuminating their home. Yet it wasn't necessary, as all they had to do was march up to the burning pyre, and give one of the Targaryen prayers of remembrance, and then perhaps go back to their rooms and sleep off this terrible day.

'Brother,' she thought, as she walked towards the flames, 'I am alone now,' she stared down at her shaking hands, 'I know that I am unworthy of our name, of the title that your death bestows upon me,' the thought of being queen had been frightening enough when she would have her brother as a husband, but now alone it was bone chilling. Only the fire itself warmed her.

It warmed her greatly.

Dany's heart began to grow. Somewhere, deep inside her breast, something had changed. Perhaps it had been realization, or perhaps the heat of the flames, but it had changed. She marched forward towards the flames, and stared directly into them. Illyrio attempted to hold her back, but she broke his grip, and came right up next to the massive pyre. She stared into the flames, and could almost swear she saw Viserys standing in front of her. Twas not that she thought he was standing there, his body was long gone, but she could almost feel his judging gaze.

"Hear me brother," she said, her eyes focused on the flames, "I shall succeed in returning our family to it's rightful seat," far away, to the West, sat the home Viserys had died attempting to return to, "I shall reclaim our throne, and punish the usurper and his mangy dogs, and take the head of the witch who killed you," she stood in front of the fire, even as she felt a slight singe when ashes landed on her skin, "I shall spread my wings, and I shall restore the Targarye-"

And then, suddenly, a burst of flame ejected out from the massive pyre. Dany did not move, the embers barely passing away from her hairs. She stopped, staring, and realizing she saw a shadow crawling through the flames. It was small, perhaps the size of a small dog, and it crawled on all fours. But the front legs had long strips of flesh hanging out, and there were black scales instead of fur. Dany blinked as she saw the creature flap its forward legs, and suddenly hop into the air, and hover for a moment, before stretching itself out, and gliding through the flames toward her. All her human instincts told her to run away, but…but her Targayen blood told her to stay. And it was that blood, the blood of her right to be queen that won out.

Staying there allowed the creature to come out of the flames, and land on Dany's chest. For a moment, it seemed to crawl around, sharp claws clinging into her skin, before finally it released them, and shot upward, before finally finding itself on Dany's shoulders, and curling itself around her neck.

"By the gods," she could hear the cheesemonger gasp. She could not blame him for that, considering this creature had not been seen by mortal men by over a century. Dany herself could barely believe it, slowly reaching her hand up, to pet the creature on its head. The winged reptile leaned its head into her hand, letting out a contented sound as she petted it. Illyrio could only stare at her and utter a shocked word, "Dragon."

"Yes," Dany thought, smiling despite herself as the creature rubbed its head into her cheek. She looked back at the pyre, and remembered the scaffolding, "I suppose, when the scaffolding finally fell," she pointed down into the middle of the flame, "The great heat of the fire was enough to allow this one's egg to hatch."

"I…that," Illyrio stammered, "But I've studied dragons, ever since I found the eggs," Dany could only raise an eyebrow at the man's disbelief, "If mere heat were enough, then the dragons would never have disappeared from the world."

"...eggs?" Dany asked, before turning her head, and seeing two more forms slowly crawling over the burning wood. Dany could only blink at the sight of the creatures, before slowly widening her hands as an offer of protection for the creatures. And as they seemed to follow the first's lead in how to come to her Dany could not help but feel, "...that perhaps I am not so alone in the world at all."

Dany had at times been tempted to look out the window, but she knew by this point there would be nothing to see. The Flatlands had earned their name, and Dany had, after a few days of travel, grown tired of seeing only miles upon miles of grass. While at times they would see a miller or a farmer or even a small set of riders, there was nothing that caught Dany's eye for more than a moment.

Certainly nothing more than the winged creatures currently tearing the side out of a dead sheep in the middle of their cart. The black one was taking the lead, having already claimed the dead beast's eyes, the green drake was tearing off parts of the bottom right thigh, and the cream dragon was busy going for the intestines. This was the fourth sheep that they had eaten in the six days since they had left Pentos, and considering how easily they tore into this one, it was likely that they would have to stop and buy another before the sun set…if they did not make it where the carriage was headed.

"They…" Dany looked to her right, to see the only other occupant of the cabin that was not covered in scales, "will not set fire to the wood now that they have grown…will they?"

Dany shook her head, and Illyrio shook for a moment, before nodding at the young girl. Illyrio had been ecstatic after the birth of the three dragons from Viserys pyre. After sending her to her rooms, dragons alongside her, he had spent the rest of the night meeting with some others. By the next morning, this new wooden carriage, with enclosed walls and locked doors, had been brought by the manse. Illyrio would explain he had sold the manse itself, for even in ruins the value of the property was worth a fortune, all for the carriage and a set of sellswords to accompany Dany on a special journey. At first she had been worried she might be sent to Drogo's manse, but that had quickly been quieted when he'd made the simple point he could have done so as soon as she'd been found alive. Rather, he'd said there were a group of sellswords that were close to him that would be incredibly interested in supporting a Targaryen if they were to possess dragons.

'I still do not know what to make of it,' she thought, watching the black dragon shoot a small burst of fire onto a rib of the drake, the smell of cooked mutton beginning to fill the cart while Illyrio took in a deep breath, 'Yet…this is perhaps the most I could dream of. Were the Usurper to find out that the dragons were back…' the figure of her nightmares, a tall man in yellow armor with the head of a stag stood above her, 'best to find those with swords who might protect me until they can fly to victory.'

"How much further is this sellsword company?" she asked, and Illyrio, still closely watching the dragons as they had finished half the sheep, looked out the window himself. For a moment, all he did was look out there, and Dany wondered what he could be trying to spot.

"We are nearing the Little Rhoyne," he said, "So, if I remember correctly, they were preparing to sail south from outside the ruined city of Ghoyan Drone back to the Disputed lands," he turned back to her, "They were busy in service of Norvos for the past half year. It was from what I here, lucrative, but with the sudden collapse of the Great Wall of Volantis, the Old Blood have emptied half their coffers in calling up as many companies to maintain control of their city as they can."

"So then we shall be heading south to Volantis," Dany asked, and Illyrio shook his head.

"Not if we can catch them," he said slowly, "This company might be large enough with your dragons to take your kingdom back, but not if they waste their men fighting a perhaps hopeless battle."

"To believe that Azhor Ahai showed himself to tear the wall down," Dany said aloud. It had been rumor she had mostly ignored, but had heard more of it from Illyrio, in the few bits of time they had had to talk.

"It was a mage of some strength that caused that yes," Illyrio shivered, "Though with all that has been happening these past few days, I certainly believe now that a single man might bring down the black walls with a trumpet…"

The conversation soon ended, neither of them likely needing to continue. Dany just returned her attention to the dragons. They had devoured the flesh of the sheep, and were now lying between the picked apart ribs. As though they found great comfort in the presence of death.

'Why not?' she thought, 'they were born from a death, were they not?'

The sun would continue to fall, and was only just above the river, when Illyrio smiled and nodded to her. She sighed in relief, glad at least she would be able to finally leave the wooden room, if for no other reason than to allow the dragons to stretch their wings. Two of them were currently resting on her shoulders, and she was only not hurt by their claws by leather guards that Illyrio had given her. They had primarily been used for hawking, but for Dragons in such a state they would do until something more tailored could be fashioned.

The black dragon was still chewing on the bones of the sheep, sucking marrow from the ribs. She could already feel that that one would be trouble…though she really should have a name for it, 'The cream is Viserion, and the green is Rhaegal…I do not yet have a name for you dear little one.'

"Now," Illyrio took in a deep breath, and sighed, "Tis time to tell you that the sellswords we are to meet are the Golden Company."

…

"The Blackfyre's army?" Dany nearly felt the need to jump from the carriage, Viserion and Rhaegal shrieking at her fright. Just as she was about to stand up, Illyrio raised his hands.

"You must calm yourself Daenerys," she did not feel like calming herself, and was about to order her dragons to tear into the man, when he shouted, "Kill me, and you won't be able to leave alive. The Golden Company will certainly be able to kill you with three barely hatched dragons."

Dany gritted her teeth at Illyrio…but she could tell he was right. This was most likely why he had waited to tell her the name of the sellswords. To make sure she was already trapped.

"Now then," he coughed, "There are a few matters we must go over before we enter there, so you and I will have the best for both of us," and then his smile became softer, "including assuring that you shall have the crown of the Seven Kingdoms placed upon your head."

Dany felt the desire to order the dragons to attack, but took in a short breath, and nodded. At least it seemed that the goal was still the same, though now Dany could not help but wonder if what Mairu had been telling her brother about Illyrio's attempt to betray him was the truth. Certainly, if Illyrio had a massive company like the Golden Company as allies, then that would have been more useful than asking Drogo for his army. They were trained to fight as Westerosi men had been, so would that not mean…

"Now then," Illyrio coughed, "You seem to know that the Golden Company is made up of the men who fought for the Blackfyre cause over the past century," Dany nodded, and Illyrio continued, "but you must also certainly know about the fate of the Blackfyres then."

Dany did not need to say anything. The death of Maelys the Monstrous at the hands of Barristen the Bold had been one of the great stories of the last days of the Targaryen Dynasty. Her father had actually been on the battlefield where the War of the Ninepenny Kings came to an end, so that final battle was something that Viserys had been told by Aerys himself. When she said nothing, Illyrio continued.

"Well, Maelys death ended the last vestiges of male line of Daemon Blackfyre," Dany could see a slight smirk crawl upon Illyrio's lips, "Ah, but that only explained the male line," he smiled to himself, "From the female line…well, there might be a few of them that still survive."

"So the commander of the Golden Company is from the female line?"

"Not the commander, no. But it tis true that there is a Blackfyre that that the Golden Company does plan to raise to the Iron Throne," he stopped, and sighed, "However, at this point, the Blackfyre claim is…distant, diluted," he stopped, "The mother of this Blackfyre had tried for years to find someone to press her claim, even after Maelys death, but she found no men to take up her cause, even among the heirs of Bittersteel," he then smiled, "Ah, but her son…her son might just be able to take up the mantle and the cause, and take what his family has fought a century for."

"Why?" Dany asked, a sudden surge of jealousy, "Is it because he would be a prince."

"In a certain way, yes," Illyrio nodded, "Though…not because of what is between his legs, but," he stopped, seemed to consider what he was saying before stopping, and saying, "Because he is as far as he and almost the whole world is concerned, not a Blackfyre, but a true Targaryen," there was a pause before Illyrio sighed, "He believes himself to be your nephew, Aegon Targaryen."

"...but I ju-"

"Yes," Illyrio continued, "yes I know you met the actual Aegon Targayen," he sighed, "I wished to actually wring the little shit's neck, but there was a chance something might happen to our Aegon that might mean we would have use for Baelon, and to murder him would almost certainly take Rhaenys out of our hands, and she was the real prize," he stopped, "Marrying her to Young Griff, as he is known, would have been more than enough to strengthen the claim to the throne, and reclaim the image of the Conquerer," he then gave her a look, "You were a secondary concern that fell into our laps during your travels. We hoped to gain an alliance with Drogo, while also removing you and your brother from contending claims, being sent so far east that you would be both lost in the Dothraki Sea," he sighed, "To believe your brother ever thought the Dothraki might actually cross a sea on horse alone."

'So…it was all foolishness then,' Dany thought of her brother, and of Drogo, 'We were never the real goal,' she looked down at the dragons, 'More than likely the eggs and the fine clothes and the marriage were all attempts to take us away from the Seven Kingdoms, and to clear the way so this fake Aegon could rise up and claim our place.'

"Now, however, with your dragons, it is best that we introduce you to Aegon, and begin preparations for a marriage," she could only nod, "Do not fear, he is the same age as you, so there will be no bedding, not for a long time," at that, she was thankful, "But you must do your best to help Aegon believe he is who he has taught he is," Dany blinked, "A Blackfyre through the female line will not be accepted as king, even if he is male. But the return of the old Targaryens will be accepted as a victory and a restoration," he leaned forward, "For the good of you and of your family, you must help conceal this secret."

"I…I will."

Illyrio's smile seemed to loosen at that, as did the rest of his body. The man's blubber seemed to meld into the seat, as he laid up against the wall of the carriage. For the next few moments, they both remained in those positions, as the light through the windows of the carriage began to grow brighter as the sun set.

And then the carriage came to a stop. Illyrio pushed himself upward, and Dany wondered how a man as fat as he could move so gracefully. He looked at her, and she noticed he was string directly into her eyes. She nodded in understanding, and he then came over to the door of the carriage, and opened it up.

"Greetin-," and then he stopped, as a spear was pointed directly into his face.

"Who g-oh, oh Illyrio it's you," an Andal atop his horse raised the spear away from Illyrio. He had an orange surcoat with three black castles on them. The man had had a long brown beard, and deeply tired eyes, "I…you did send a raven ahead, didn't you."

"Yes," Illyrio seethed, his nerves still seemingly worn to nothing from his time as a prisoner and with the dragons, "Yes I did," he almost flailed at the man, but stopped himself, "Good Gods, Laswell, what did you think you were doing? I-"

"You moved too quickly for us to respond," Laswell…Peake, if Dany could remember the sigils of the houses of Westros well enough, "we were hoping to tell you not to come," he looked inside, at the dragons, "I don't think dragons that old will be enough to help us recover from what happened a few nights ago."

"What…what are you speaking of?" Dany looked at the haunted look in the Peake knight's face, as he reached up, and rubbed a long gash along his forehead. It was only then, that Dany could look out, and see the camp. And even in the distance, with light slowly fading away, that she could see the scattered remains of what she supposed had been a palisade.

"The night you sent us a raven, we had been attacked in the middle of the day," Laswell grimaced, "Over a thousand of our men laid slain by the time the fighting stopped."

"What, did one of the Free Cities declare an attack?"

"No," the knight seemed quite tired, "If only it was one of them, perhaps we might have been ready," he stared off into the distance, past Dany and her dragons, now all awake, and at attention to protect her, "No…it was one man, who came into the camp…and killed a thousand men on his own," she could hear the haunted soul in the back of his voice, "Me brother Pykewood was among the men that man killed."

At that moment, Dany felt her stomach twist. Like her, this man had lost a brother so recently. Perhaps they had died at the same moment. She then got to her feet, and asked, "Do you know why, Good Ser."

"Ah, sweet lass," Laswell was barely holding back his tears, "I remember seeing my brother cut down trying to defend what that wretch of a man wanted. The bronze skinned bastard came…cutting his way through footman and knight and elephant…all for the symbol of our company."

"...you mean he stole-"

"Yes," Laswell said, "That mage smashed apart the standards, until he found our first," his tears were now flowing freely, "And then…and then he tore off Bittersteel's skull, and cut his way out of the camp."

Dany did not need to ask. The description was enough to send a shiver down her spine, as the image of star filled eyes came across her vision. For now it seemed that not only did that intruder have the legendary blade of her house, but he had the skull of one of the original Blackfyre generals.

And what he would do with those…she could not bring herself to imagine.

"So now…now we wait."

Dany took in Illyrio's words without any actual movement. There was nothing to do really. She and Illyrio had been set up in one of the larger in tact tents, with some soft cushions and carpets, but even this had a few holes from some kind of projectile.

The story they had heard from Laswell had been a horror. How the mage with dark skin and snowy hair had arrived outside their camp, and demanded that they hand him over the skull of Aegor Rivers. The response had been a hundred arrows of Black Balaq's company, though when they all landed, not a single one even touched the cloth on the intruder's garb.

The man had then smashed down the door, and cut his way through any and all who stepped in his way. As Ser Peake had said, over a thousand members of the Golden Company met their doom beneath the mage. Most had been simple footmen or archers, though over fifty knights had been slain, as had a half dozen elephants. AMong the dead had been the old commander, Ser Harry Strickland, had been among the dead, though his head had at least served to retake the standard that had once held Bittersteel. The magics he had used had been terrifying, but the company had not broken. Despite losing so much, they still mostly held together, holding this part of the Rhoyne.

"It should not be long," Illyrio sighed, "Not when their new commander shall be along with your…betrothed is with him, and they shall be here soon," Illyrio then gave her a look, "Now remember what I told you."

"Yes," Dany said.

It was at least an hour waiting, that Dany was sure of. She had gotten quite good at guessing the length of time it took for something to happen after waiting so much for her brother's meetings to finish. During that time, her dragons were free to feast on the remains of one of the dead horses that had yet to be cleared out, which was good, for it kept the three from spewing fire and setting the already damaged tent alight.

Finally, just as Dany felt herself begin to strain to remain awake, a man came through. He was tall, with wrinkles beginning to develop along the sides of his face, and with strange blue hair that, from Dany's perspective, looked quite clearly died. In fact, Dany could see some red hair sticking out, likely from not having died it recently enough. The man was dressed in a red doublet, over chainmail, with a sword at his side. It was the shield that gave the man away, with red on one side, and white on the other, with griffons standing up on each.

"Princess Daenerys," his voice seemed to catch in his throat. Within a second, he was kneeling beneath her, "Tis so wonderful to see you your grace."

"Ser Connington," she said. The story of the hand of the king who had been exiled for failing to win the Battle of the Bells had been famous, as had his supposed sad fate of falling into a drunken stupor of a death. That he was standing here…meant that something had gone wrong.

"Well, I suppose you have grown close with our friend," Connington gestured towards Illyrio, who shrugged a smile, "He introduced me to Prince Aegon when I was still a member of the Golden Company, and I retired for a while to help train him," the thought of Jon Connington training this "Aegon" at least calmed some of Dany's fears, for at least he was being trained by a man who'd been close to the institutions of the Targaryen dynasty, "Illyrio assisted in faking my demise, so I could serve my purpose without the Usurper finding out about our plan," and certainly, Jon Connington running around with a boy of the same age of the prince would be dangerous. Even if that boy was really a Blackfyre in disguise.

"So," Illyrio spoke up, "Where is the prince by the way-," Dany could not help but sigh, though she supposed the long day hid her exhaustion. It did feel as though she were a butterfly on the wind, being carried about by whatever gust caught her. Her brother, Illyrio, Mairu, Illyrio once more, Drogo, Connington, and now this fake "Aegon". What would this boy have to offer her.

"I am here," she turned to the opening of the tent again to the origin of the new voice. Standing there was a very…very pretty boy. His face was strong, with powerful cheekbones and jaw that framed the rest of his face. But his nose was quite small, and his lips were full and sweet. His eyes were bright, flashing as he looked her up and down. He was already nearly half a head taller than her, though he should be about the same age. Even his cropped blue died hair was, while not ideal, almost exotic in quality. For a moment, even the memory of Baleon's quite handsome face disappeared in the light of this fake, the counterfeit replacing the original.

As she continued to stare, the young man slowly approached her, keeping himself as deliberate a gait as possible. He then bowed his head, and held out his hand in front of her. She simply stared at it for a long moment, blinking, until she realized she was to place her own hand in his, which she swiftly did. The young boy then brought the back of her hand to his lips, and kissed it, a feeling that nearly sent Dany soaring.

"My sweet," he said, somehow his voice not sounding like the fourteen year old boy he was, "Tis a blessing of all the gods, that you are now here before me," he raised his head, while taking her hand in both of his, "I must say, they said you were beautiful, but they failed to say just how lovely you are," Dany could feel a heat coming over her cheeks, "Tis an honor to finally meet you, Daenerys."

"Dany," she spoke, and almost slapped her free hand to her mouth, but seeing a slight look of confusion on his face, "I…I like to be called Dany," she said, and somehow the boy across from her smiled so brightly that she nearly had to cover her eyes.

"My Dany," he said, and her heart fluttered, "I am so glad to meet you."

"Yes…," Suddenly, they were both pulled from the meeting, and looked over at the two other men in the room. Both looked pleased, Connington seeming to fake an exasperation so clearly false that any man in the room could see it, and Illyrio seeming more genuinely happy than Dany could ever recall. Why the Cheese monger would be so pleased, Dany could not say, but before she could think to investigate further, Illyrio continued, "Perhaps you should also wish to meet the dragons," he pointed to the half-eaten horse, "They should get to know you after all, "Young Griff"," Dany was brought out of her reverie from the realization that this was not the end of some fairy tale, and that right now, even in the presence of this boy, she was not guaranteed a happy ending, "they will be key in the restoration of your house."

"That can be done tomorrow," Aegon said, and Dany was pulled back to him, "And for the years we will have to regain our footing," the thought of the heavy losses and the small state of the dragons kept any hopes for an immediate conquest on hold, "But for tonight, I should hope to…become familiar with this girl, the star that shall light the way for us all home."

'Mayhaps,' Dany thought to herself, as she nodded, happy tears beginning to crawl down her face, 'Mayhaps this might not be so bad after all.'