A/N: Sorry about the late upload, I had activites booking me all throughout the weekend and I should have given a heads up to that. I almost never upload on weekends, but since it's Sunday, I might as well give you guys a chapter. This is in Daenerys' POV and while it's technically supposed to occur in ACOK, this has been moved to be the last chapter of Act II, when she meets Ellion and he gives her a proposition. We resume Stafford's chapter either tomorrow or Tuesday (I'll surprise you all about its update date, as it signals the beginning of the War of *Four* Kings Arc (Act III-IV). I'll also respond to reviews at that time, and while this chapter is not as polished and as consistent as I wanted it to be, I wanted it to be the last Eastern POV for probably the next three or four chapters. Anyway, here's the chapter

Enjoy!

Daenerys

The Dothraki named the comet shierak qiya, the Bleeding Star. The old men muttered that it omened ill, but Daenerys Targaryen had seen it first on the night she had burned Khal Drogo, the night her dragons had awakened. It is the herald of my coming, she told herself as she gazed up into the night sky with wonder in her heart. The gods have sent it to show me the way. Yet when she put the thought into words, her handmaid Doreah quailed. "That way lies the red lands, Khaleesi. A grim place and terrible, the riders say."

"The way the comet points is the way we will go," She dare not turn north onto the vast ocean of grass they called the Dothraki sea. The first khalasar they met would swallow up her ragged band, slaying the warriors and slaving the rest. The lands of the Lamb Men south of the river were likewise closed to them. They were too few to defend themselves even against that unwarlike folk, and the Lhazareen had small reason to love them. She might have struck downriver for the ports at Meereen and Yunkai and Astapor, but Rakharo warned her that Pono's khalasar had ridden that way, driving thousands of captives before them to sell in the flesh marts that festered like open sores on the shores of Slaver's Bay. "Why should I fear Pono?" Dany objected. "He was Drogo's ko, and always spoke me gently."

"Ko Pono spoke you gently," Ser Jorah Mormont said, "Khal Pono will kill you. He was the first to abandon Drogo. Ten thousand warriors went with him. You have a hundred." That much was undeniable. Most of the able bodied warriors had left her, and now she was stuck with the sick, the women and children, and a small group of loyal warriors. But she had one...no three things that Khal Pono did not have.

"I have the dragons," she pointed out.

"Hatchlings," Ser Jorah said. "One swipe from an arakh would put an end to them, though Pono is more like to seize them for himself. Your dragon eggs were more precious than rubies. A living dragon is beyond price. In all the world, there are only three. Every man who sees them will want them, my queen."

"They are mine," she said fiercely. They had been born from her faith and her need and her fire, given life by the deaths of her husband and unborn son and the maegi Mirri Maz Duur. Dany had walked into the flames as they came forth, and they had drunk milk from her swollen breasts.

"No man will take them from me while I live." Her resolve was firm. She had sacrificed much for her to gain these dragons. Once they become fully grown, not even a million men would be able to stand against her. Then she could claim what was her from the Usurper's son. When the Usurper had died, she had heard that there was uproar in the Seven Kingdoms. It was definitely an excellent time for her to invade when her dragons matured enough, and she hoped the Seven Kingdoms would stay in chaos. From what she heard, House Baratheon was divided between two factions now, House Baratheon of Storm's End and Dragonstone under the rule of the second son of the Usurper, Stafford Baratheon, and House Baratheon of King's Landing under the rule of the supposed heir Joffrey Baratheon. Apparently, through what Ser Jorah told her, Stafford Baratheon had decided to kidnap a Stark girl during her father's execution at the hands of the king, and now he had decided that he wanted the Kingdom as well. Like father like son, both were dishonorable, savage cutthroats.

"You will not live long should you meet Khal Pono. Nor Khal Jhaqo, nor any of the others. You must go where they do not." Dany had named him the first of her Queensguard. . . And when Mormont's gruff counsel and the omens agreed, her course was clear. She called her people together and mounted her silver mare. Her hair had burned away in Drogo's pyre, so her handmaids garbed her in the skin of the hrakkar Drogo had slain, the white lion of the Dothraki sea. Ser Jorah Mormont had been sworn to protect her brother Viserys, but when he went mad, he protected her.

However frightened my heart is, when they look upon my face they must see only Drogo's queen. She felt older than her seventeen years. If ever she had truly been a girl, that time was done. Three days into the march, the first man died. A toothless oldster with cloudy blue eyes, he fell exhausted from his saddle and could not rise again. An hour later he was done. Blood flies swarmed about his corpse and carried his ill luck to the living.

There was little forage in the red waste, and less water. It was a sere and desolate land of low hills and barren windswept plains. The rivers they crossed were dry as dead men's bones. Their mounts subsisted on the tough brown devil grass that grew in clumps at the base of rocks and dead trees. It was indeed the hardest of times that she ever experienced in her life, because although she had struggled and fought for everything in her life she now had fear for others now. She no longer just cared about herself. That got her to thinking about many things in her life.

Each evenfall as the khalasar set out, she would choose a dragon to ride upon her shoulder. Irri and Jhiqui carried the others in a cage of woven wood slung between their mounts, and rode close behind her, so Dany was never out of their sight. It was the only way to keep them quiescent. "Aegon's dragons were named for the gods of Old Valyria," she told her bloodriders one morning after a long night's journey. "Visenya's dragon was Vhagar, Rhaenys had Meraxes, and Aegon rode Balerion, the Black Dread. It was said that Vhagar‟s breath was so hot that it could melt a knight's armor and cook the man inside, that Meraxes swallowed horses whole, and Balerion. . . His fire was as black as his scales, his wings so vast that whole towns were swallowed up in their shadow when he passed overhead."

"I would name them all for those the gods have taken. The green one shall be Rhaegal, for my valiant brother who died on the green banks of the Trident. The cream-and-gold I call Viserion. Viserys was cruel and weak and frightened, yet he was my brother still. His dragon will do what he could not."

"And the black beast?" asked Ser Jorah Mormont.

"The black," she said, "is Drogon."

But even as her dragons grew stronger, her khalasar withered and died. Everyone struggled to find a way to survive. Animals like horses dropped dead in their tracks. The blistering heat of the steppe made sure that everyone felt miserably hot when they traveled in the daylight, and if they decided to travel at night to try to traverse to a dry cold waste.

"Does this waste have no end to it?"

"It has an end," he answered wearily. "I have seen the maps the traders draw, my queen. Few caravans come this way, that is so, yet there are great kingdoms to the east, and cities full of wonders. Yi Ti, Qarth, Asshai by the Shadow. . ."

"Will we live to see them?"

"I will not lie to you. The way is harder than I dared think." The knight's face was grey and exhausted. The wound he had taken to his hip the night he fought Khal Drogo's bloodriders single handedly had never fully healed; she could see how he grimaced when he mounted his horse, and he seemed to slump in his saddle as they rode.

"Perhaps we are doomed if we press on. . . but I know for a certainty that we are doomed if we turn back." Dany kissed him lightly on the cheek. It heartened her to see him smile. I must be strong for him as well, she thought grimly. A knight he may be, but I am the blood of the dragon.

They made camp before the remnants of a gutted palace, on a windswept plaza where devil grass grew between the paving stones. Dany sent out men to search the ruins. Some went reluctantly, yet they went . . . and one scarred old man returned a brief time later, hopping and grinning, his hands overflowing with figs. They were small, withered things, yet her people grabbed for them greedily, jostling and pushing at each other, stuffing the fruit into their cheeks and chewing blissfully.

The hrakkar had been much bigger than Dany, so the pelt covered everything that wanted covering.

"I‟ve brought you a peach," Ser Jorah said, kneeling. It was so small she could almost hide it in her palm, and overripe too, but when she took the first bite, the flesh was so sweet she almost cried. She ate it slowly, savoring every mouthful, while Ser Jorah told her of the tree it had been plucked from, in a garden near the western wall.

"Fruit and water and shade," Dany said, her cheeks sticky with peach juice. "The gods were good to bring us to this place."

"We should rest here until we are stronger," the knight urged. "The red lands are not kind to the weak."

"My handmaids say there are ghosts here."

"There are ghosts everywhere," Ser Jorah said softly. "We carry them with us wherever we go." She wondered what he meant by that.

Yes, she thought. Viserys, Khal Drogo, my son Rhaego, they are with me always. She wondered if lost memories were ghosts too, but she would dig deeper than she needed to then. "Tell me the name of your ghost, Jorah. You know all of mine."

His face grew very still. "Her name was Lynesse."

"Your wife?"

"My second wife."

"Very beautiful." Ser Jorah lifted his eyes from her shoulder to her face. "The first time I beheld her, I thought she was a goddess come to earth, the Maid herself made flesh. Her birth was far above my own. She was the youngest daughter of Lord Leyton Hightower of Oldtown. The White Bull who commanded your father‟s Kingsguard was her great uncle. The Hightowers are an ancient family, very rich and very proud."

"Who made the match for you?"

"Our marriage makes a long tale and a dull one, I don't to bore you with the details," Although it looked as though Ser Jorah was pained by telling their story, Daenerys was nonetheless curious. It seemed like she had mastered the Art of Breaking through, something that she wasn't exactly proud of.

"I have nowhere to go," she said.

"Please."

"As my queen commands." Ser Jorah frowned.

"My home. . . you must understand that to understand the rest. Bear island is beautiful, but remote. Imagine old gnarled oaks and tall pines, flowering thorn bushes, grey stones bearded with moss, little creeks running icy down steep hillsides. The hall of the Mormonts is built of huge logs and surrounded by an earthen palisade. Aside from a few crofters, my people live along the coasts and fish the seas. The island lies far to the north, and our winters are more terrible than you can imagine, Khaleesi.

"Still, the island suited me well enough, and I never lacked for women. I had my share of fishwives and crofter's daughters, before and after I was wed. I married young, to a bride of my father's choosing, a Glover of Deepwood Motte. Ten years we were wed, or near enough as makes no matter. She was a plain-faced woman, but not unkind. I suppose I came to love her after a fashion, though our relations were dutiful rather than passionate. Three times she miscarried while trying to give me an heir. The last time she never recovered. She died not long after."

"I'm truly sorry for you," She stated and Ser Jorah nodded meekly.

"To celebrate his victory, Robert ordained that a tourney should be held outside Lannisport. It was there I saw Lynesse, a maid half my age. She had come up from Oldtown with her father to see her brothers joust. I could not take my eyes off her. In a fit of madness, I begged her favor to wear in the tourney, never dreaming she would grant my request, yet she did. "I fight as well as any man, Khaleesi, but I have never been a tourney knight. Yet with Lynesse‟s favor knotted round my arm, I was a different man. I won joust after joust. Lord Jason Mallister fell before me, and Bronze Yohn Royce. Ser Ryman Frey, his brother Ser Hosteen, Lord Whent, Strongboar, even Ser Boros Blount of the Kingsguard, I unhorsed them all. In the last match, I broke nine lances against Jaime Lannister to no result, and King Robert gave me the champion‟s laurel. I crowned Lynesse queen of love and beauty, and that very night went to her father and asked for her hand. I was drunk, as much on glory as on wine. By rights I should have gotten a contemptuous refusal, but Lord Leyton accepted my offer. We were married there in Lannisport, and for a fortnight I was the happiest man in the wide world."

"Only a fortnight?" She wondered why it was only for such a short time. What would happen to Lynesse? Or more importantly how would Ser Jorah manage to cope with how he lost her. For all she knew, he had not even gotten over the fact that she was lost to him.

"A fortnight was how long it took us to sail from Lannisport back to Bear island. My home was a great disappointment to Lynesse. The rest. . . I did things it shames me to speak of. For gold. So Lynesse might keep her jewels, her harper, and her cook. In the end, it cost me all. When I heard that Eddard Stark was coming to Bear Island, I was so lost to honor that rather than stay and face his judgment, I took her with me into exile. Nothing mattered but our love, I told myself. We fled to Lys, where I sold my ship for gold to keep us." His voice was thick with grief, and Dany was reluctant to press him any further, yet she had to know how it ended.

"Did she die there?" she asked him gently.

"Only to me," he said. "In half a year my gold was gone, and I was obliged to take service as a sellsword. While I was fighting Braavosi on the Rhoyne, Lynesse moved into the manse of a merchant prince named Tregar Ormollen. They say she is his chief concubine now, and even his wife goes in fear of her."

Dany was horrified. "Do you hate her?"

"Almost as much as I love her," Ser Jorah answered. "Pray excuse me, my queen. I find I am very tired." She gave him leave to go, but as he was lifting the flap of her tent, she could not stop herself calling after him with one last question. "

"What did she look like, your Lady Lynesse?"

Ser Jorah smiled sadly. "Why, she looked a bit like you, Daenerys." He bowed low. "Sleep well, my queen."

Dany shivered, and pulled the lionskin tight about her. She looked like me. It explained much that she had not truly understood. He wants me, she realized. He loves me as he loved her, not as a knight loves his queen but as a man loves a woman. She tried to imagine herself in Ser Jorah‟s arms, kissing him, pleasuring him, letting him enter her. It was no good. When she closed her eyes, his face kept changing into Drogo's.

She had heard the longing in Ser Jorah's voice when he spoke of his Bear Island. He can never have me, but one day I can give him back his home and honor. That much I can do for him.

Before she can drift off into her own dreams, Ser Jorah into her tent. Daenerys was a little scared, but he had serious look in his eyes.

"There's a bit of a situation outside…" His low voice said.

"What's the matter? What could be troubling us?"

"Three thousand swords from Volantis apparently, their leader is asking for you. We thought we were being attacked when we saw them marching towards our camp. They provided food to our people, so I'm sure they aren't hostile...for now," Three thousand swords from Volantis of all places. What in seven hells were they doing so far from Volantis? She knew she had better check this out herself. She pulled up her furs so that she was covered, she didn't want any of what she was assuming was male soldiers taking advantage of her. She made sure to put all three of her dragons on her shoulders, to make sure they were at least awestruck if not intimidated.

Once she got out of her tent with Ser Jorah, she noticed the bustle of soldiers moving in their camp. They had basically set their stakes in their makeshift camps as well, as they were setting up tents for the night. Not like she could do anything about it, they outnumbered her troops and they looked much more fresh from the travel then she could notice. Ser Jorah led her to a tent that her people did not put up. It was large, and looked like it had just been freshly set. Nothing prepared her for what she saw when she entered the tent.

In the tent she saw someone eerily familiar, and from her memories she knew, who it was when she had processed the image of the person standing before her. Behind a table, which besides a giant map, of what she presumed was Essos, were three people. There were two rugged looking fighters, and they flanked someone she had almost completely forgotten of. He was older now, clearly, no longer the boy she had met in the Square long ago. He no longer had the sticky linen next to his cheek. He still had his light green eyes, and the blond hair she had remembered he had, even though he wore a bandana concealing it once.

"Hi, princess. Do you remember me?" he stated. The boy she had met at the square had definitely changed since the first time she had met him. In fact, if he had not said that statement, she would not know that was the boy she met at the square. The only thing that gave him away was the blond hair and the green eyes, which even then she found to be one of his most distinguishing features. "We've been looking for you, princess. I have some things that I wish to discuss with you."

"I'm sure you can discuss them with her with me around," Ser Jorah spoke for her. With the tone of his voice, it seemed like Ser Jorah did not trust him. But then again, if he was planning anything malicious towards her and her group, he could have easily done so. The warrior Ellion had two thousand swords, all of them trained mercenaries. Her little group was dwarfed in size not mention in skill and condition.

"If it's alright with you, Ser Jorah, I'd like to talk to her privately. How about we drop our guards, escorts and knights, and spend some time alone, like we did five years ago." Ellion requested coolly.

"How do we know you won't try anyth-" Daenerys stopped Ser Jorah before he could continue.

"Whether he meant to or not, he helped us Ser Jorah, he has food and other things that he has provided our people. He, at the very least, can have that one request," She told him. Ser Jorah seemed like he was ready to object, but the words escaped him. He simply nodded. Ellion said some things to his men.

The men left and followed suit, once she said the words and almost reluctantly Ser Jorah also left the tent. And almost at the speed of Khal Drogo on horseback, it was only Ellion and Daenerys were left in the room. The situation the two of them found themselves in was much different from the days they spent in the Free City of Volantis. Ellion was clearly some sort of mercenary now, which she came to expect, because of what he had been. Ellion had changed into a young man, and Daenerys was no longer a little girl. She had been widowed once now, and she had experienced many things most grown women would never be able to experience in their lifetimes.

"You can get some more clothing if you'd like. All we have are some leather jerkins that might fit you, but it's better than covering yourself with… Fur," Ellion told her.

"We can deal with that later," she told him.

"Suit yourself, why don't you pull up a chair?" He said casually as he literally got a chair from the corner of the room and placed it across from her. She followed suit with him and they sat down on the table face to face. The table seemed much smaller than it had been, as she could reach across it if she stretched far enough.

"So, it's been a long time hasn't it, Ellion?" she told him. Ellion grunted a little.

"I did not come here for a reunion, Princess. Although it came as an added pleasantry to know that I would finally meet you again after all these years," Ellion replied gruffly. Before she knew it, Ellion grabbed out some sort of portable board.

"What's that?" Daenerys asked him curious what was in the board.

"Cyvasse, I always bring around a board. Want to play?" Ellion proposed.

"Aren't we supposed to be discussing something though?" She told him.

"I can discuss it, while we play. Unless you don't want to play," Ellion offered bluntly. Ellion didn't seem to be the type to play Cyvasse. It was a complicated game, and he seemed to be more keen in hitting things that doing anything like that. The game was widely played in Volantis, though so she wasn't exactly the most surprised when he told her he played it.

"I'll play," She stated

"Don't expect me to go easy on you," Ellion cracked his knuckles. Before long they set up the pieces, "White or Black?"

"White," She stated. She had studied some of the game during the time she wandered the free cities. It was more commonly played in Lys and Volantis, although it is also seen in other Free Cities. Maester Illyrio had one set of Cyvasse in his household. She made her opening move when she advanced her horse.

"Anyway, I came for one purpose," Ellion pressed as he moved his rabble to open up some of his pieces.

"What did you come here for?" Dany asked curiously. She had moved her light horse in response to his opening. Ellion continued moving his pieces outward, and he continued moving forward with his pieces. This continued for a bit as the pieces began developing. But even then, he hadn't answered her question.
"I came to help you, princess. If you have the coin that is. I have two thousand fresh swords, and our leader has eight thousand swords that will join your cause," Ellion declared as he moved his King. Not many people even used their king until the end game, yet Ellion had done so now. Either he had a plan, or he was really foolish. "I don't have the coin to hire that many mercenaries…" She let out as sigh as she made her move. Ellion still had the silent, stoic face as he continued moving his pieces.

"My leader told me that you needn't worry about the payment...yet," Ellion said. What did he mean by this?

"What do you mean?" She asked him wondering what the terms were. She knew everything came at a price, but what were his terms.

"What you need to worry about is proving your cause to the two thousand currently under my command," Ellion started moving some more of his pieces. Ellion and Daenerys continued moving pieces in silence, until she spoke up. They were nearing what looked like the middle game, where Daenerys had already somehow shot down Ellion's Dragon with a trebuchet.

"Proving my cause?" She asked him. She thought she had him by cornered in the game now though.

"Yes, you have two month according to the boss. I'll send my final report to the boss once the two months is up. That will decide whether we will allow you to have our services, and get the rest of the ten thousand," Ellion stated. Ten Thousand swords was a great amount of troops, and it would bolster her numbers. Two thousand already more than helped her.

"And what decides whether my cause is just?"

"You'll see, princess. You'll see. Just remember you still need to pay us if you do prove worthy. Once you have the coin of course," He replied, "Checkmate."

Stunned Daenerys saw that her king was trapped, now threatened by both of his horsemen, spearmen and to her amazement, the king. She could not get out of the situation without giving up her king.

"How did you-"

"I've been playing this since I was a child, Daenerys. Anyway, if you agree to the terms, simply say so. If not I leave tonight. What do you say?" He asked plainly, with the calmness of a still pool of water. As much as she thought this might not be the wisest of action, she was in need of manpower badly. A group of two thousands swords and a possible eight thousand more was too good to pass up. She would take a risk on Ellion and his little mercenary band.

"You got yourself a deal."

Ellion nodded in response to this.

"Good. Now how about we get you some clothing?" Ellion stated with a look of discomfort in his face. Daenerys smiled. I guess even mercenaries have decency.