A/N: What up invaders, Matthewstaffordlionsfan17 here, and welcome back to the story. In the last episode, we were in Westeros, but we will return to Essos for one of the rare times in this Act of the story. I mean much of this chapter takes place in Chapter 27 of ACOK, and it is about when the Targaryen enters Qarth. Some portions were actual lines from the book, and I'm sure some of you will recognize those portions. Of course, I wrote and tried to reword most of it and added the personal touches from the novel like Ellion, a slight change in the news delievered by the summer islander, where Stafford is included and Eddard is already executed. This is to try to make sure everything exists within the cannon of this story. We will return to Westeros in Chapter Thirty Seven. However, this chapter just seeks to update everyone of the status of Essos, and while I believe it isn't the best chapter I've written, as it is one of the worst ones in my opinion, I promised to update more often, and sometimes you just have to send out what you got and stop worrying about whether it will be good or not. Hope you enjoy, and I'll try making better content for y'all. See y'all on the eleventh or twelfth for the side project and the fifteenth for our return to Westeros and the war.

BingeReader97: I mean the first few chapters weren't edited much at all. I never expected it to be read by as many people when my editor and I created it. Personally, grammar and syntax don't matter as much, as long as you can follow along and it isn't incoherent when writing fun projects like fanfics. If you stick around, I'll try to improve the polish, syntax and grammar. Thank you for your kind review.

Jeriko121: I mean, it seems everyone hates Sansa when you first read her POVs. However, I believe my OC is almost as ignorant as Robert was so, I still think he rules in regard. But the truth is in terms of combat and usefulness, Stafford and Robert make up for their stupidity and ignorance through their fighting, but that's just my opinion. Stafford was meant to be a variant of young Robert Baratheon, so they act alike. Anyway after going off on that tangents, thank you for your kind reveiw.

Guest: I hate what I did to Arya. I hate Stafford a little for what he did to her, and I made him up. I hate Max Irons a little bit, and I didn't think that was possible, imagining him in real game of thrones literally doing what he did with Maisie Williams on show. I mean I wouldn't blame him, but every time that scene ran through my head where he basically chose Sansa over her, I see Max Irons, Sophie Turner, and Maisie Williams, and would good money to see it in real life. Something like a moderately sized loan of a Billion dollars. Thank you for your kind review.

Hope y'all enjoy and as always let's do this!

Daenerys

On the walls of Qarth, men beat gongs to herald her coming, while others blew curious horns that encircled their bodies like great bronze snakes. A column of camelry emerged from the city as her honor guards. The riders wore scaled copper armor and snouted helms with copper tusks and long black silk plumes, and sat high on saddles inlaid with rubies and garnets. Their

camels were dressed in blankets of a hundred different hues. Following the column at the rear were six hundred mercenary riders from the Talon Company, under one of their Lieutenants, a young man, who simply called himself Ellion. The rest of the two thousand mercenaries were denied entry to the city. No doubt the people of Qarth didn't want the threat of two thousand mercenaries from the Free City of Volantis. Volantis was leagues away from Qarth, so naturally they didn't trust much outsiders. They wouldn't allow any of the mercenaries including Ellion into the city if she hadn't persuaded the guards to allow a small guard to accompany her.

Ellion was a young man even she could not read by simply talking to him. In the event that the he talked to her, which was rare, Ellion seemed stern and would rarely even smile. He hardly joked about anything, and he spent most of his time dedicating himself to the field with his men. Ser Jorah did not trust him, and said that Ellion had a some motive to appear out of nowhere like he did in the camp. However, Dany could not say whether or not he was trustworthy, because she spent so little time with him. Time is required to judge a person's character. Whether he has a hidden motive she may never even know till he has a chance to speak with him. Of course she knew Ellion from his childhood, but many people go through changes when they grow up. Ellion seemed to have changed from the rugged common boy with bandages on his face, to a stern calculating young man. For now she ignored her thoughts about the peculiar mercenaries' motives and turned her attention on the city of Qarth.

The magnificence of the great city was not to be denied. Three thick walls encircled Qarth, elaborately carved. The outer was red sandstone, thirty feet high and decorated with animals: snakes slithering, kites flying, fish swimming, intermingled with wolves of the red waste and striped horses and monstrous elephants. The middle wall, forty feet high, was grey granite alive with scenes of war: the clash of sword and shield and spear, arrows in flight, heroes

at battle and babes being butchered, pyres of the dead. The innermost wall was fifty feet of black marble, with carvings that made Dany blush until she told herself that she was being a fool.

The Qartheen lined the streets and watched from delicate balconies that looked too frail to support their weight. They were tall pale folk in linen and samite and tiger fur, every one a lord or lady to her eyes. The women wore gowns that left one breast bare, while the men favored beaded silk skirts. She felt odd wearing a mercenaries arming doublet, but to be frank that was all the clothing that Ellion had offered her. It was better than a lion skin robe, but it was far from anything regal. The dragon on her shoulder more than compensated for that though.

She glanced at her bloodriders, their dark almond-shaped eyes giving no hint of their thoughts. Is it only the plunder they see? she wondered. How savage we must seem to these Qartheen.

Pyat Pree conducted her little khalasar down the center of a great arcade where the city‟s ancient heroes stood thrice life-size on columns of white and green marble. They passed through a bazaar in a cavernous building whose latticework ceiling was home to a thousand gaily colored birds. Trees and flowers bloomed on the terraced walls above the stalls, while below it seemed as if everything the gods had put into the world was for sale.

Her silver as the merchant prince Xaro Xhoan Daxos rode up to her; the horses could not abide the close presence of camels, she had found. "If you see here anything that you would desire, O most beautiful of women, you have only to speak and it is yours," Xaro called down from his ornate horned saddle.

And then the most peculiar thing happened. She expected Ellion to be with the column with the rest of his riders. However, when she glanced behind her sensing that someone was behind her, him riding on his field hunter. Ellion looked at the merchant prince almost as if he was wary of his movement. She turned her back on him, but she was all the more curious why he would do that. Was really trying to make sure Xaro didn't try anything? He seemed to have the that look on his eyes.

"Qarth itself is hers, she has no need of baubles," blue-lipped Pyat Pree sang out from her other side. "It shall be as I promised, Khaleesi. Come with me to the House of the Undying, and you shall drink of truth and wisdom."

"Why should she need your Palace of Dust, when I can give her sunlight and sweet water and silks to sleep in?" Xaro said to the warlock. "The Thirteen shall set a crown of black jade and fire opals upon her lovely head."

"The only palace I desire is the red castle at King's Landing, my lord Pyat." Dany was wary of the warlock; the maegi Mirri Maz Duur had soured her on those who played at sorcery. "And if the great of Qarth would give me gifts, Xaro, let them give me ships and swords to win back what is rightfully mine."

"The young queen is wise beyond her years," Xaro Xhoan Daxos murmured down at her from his high saddle. "There is a saying in Qarth. A warlock‟s house is built of bones and lies."

"Then why do men lower their voices when they speak of the warlocks of Qarth? All across the east, their power and wisdom are revered."

"Once they were mighty," Xaro agreed, "but now they are as ludicrous as those feeble old soldiers who boast of their prowess long after strength and skill have left them. They read their crumbling scrolls, drink shade-of-the-evening until their lips turn blue, and hint of dread powers, but they are hollow husks compared to those who went before. Pyat Pree‟s gifts will turn to dust

in your hands, I warn you." He gave his camel a lick of his whip and sped away.

"I don't trust any of those men," someone stated bluntly. She turned to her left and saw that the mercenary lieutenant Ellion had pulled up next to her. Ser Jorah, who had been at her right at the start looked at him, but did not speak.

"And why is that? Those men could help me take the crown that is rightfully mine," She stated.

"Those men are liars and pretenders all of them. The thing they want is on your shoulder. I've been observing that mage and that prince since we entered. They won't stop glancing at it, and I know opportunists when I see one," Ellion stated gruffly. Ser Jorah looked like he agreed with what the mercenary said for once. The two never spoke, but she could feel the tension between the two. The feeling of mistrust between the both of them was undeniable. But Ellion's suggestion seemed warped. Surely the two or even the entire city were just interested in her dragons. But if they were, that would certainly not be

"I agree with the mercenary. I would not linger here long, my queen. I mislike the very smell of this place." the knight stated.

Dany smiled. "Perhaps it's the camels you're smelling. The Qartheen themselves seem sweet enough to my nose."

"Sweet smells are sometimes used to cover foul ones."

My great bear, Dany thought. I am his queen, but I will always be his cub as well, and he will always guard me. It made her feel safe, but sad as well. She wished she could love him better than she did.

As for Ellion, she could understand his resentment from princes and royalty. Mercenaries like him were sent to do work, even soldiers thought was beneath them. Ellion probably resented being treated like something expendable. No matter how many mercenaries or how large a mercenary company is mercenaries would always be treated like. Leaders were just leaders of commoners, while they themselves were commoners. No nobleman would shed a tear at the loss of lieutenant or captain, as much as they would shed tears for the loss a well respected knight or prince.

Xaro Xhoan Daxos had offered Dany the hospitality of his home while she was in the city. She had expected something grand. She had not expected a palace larger than many a market town. It makes Magister Illyrio's manse in Pentos look like a swineherd‟s hovel, she thought. Xaro swore that his home could comfortably house all of her people and their horses besides; indeed, it swallowed them. An entire wing was given over to her. She would have her own gardens, a marble bathing pool, a scrying tower and warlock's maze. Slaves would tend her every need. In her private chambers, the floors were green marble, the walls draped with colorful silk hangings that shimmered with every breath of air.

Pyat Pree took his leave as well, vowing to petition the Undying Ones for an audience. "A honor rare as summer snows." Before he left he kissed her bare feet with his pale blue lips and pressed on her a gift, a jar of ointment that he swore would let her see the spirits of the air. Last of the three seekers to depart was Quaithe the shadowbinder. From her Dany received only a warning.

"Beware," the woman in the red lacquer mask said.

When Quaithe too was gone, Ser Jorah said, "She speaks truly, my queen . . . though I like her no more than the others."

"I do not understand her." Pyat and Xaro had showered Dany with promises from the moment they first glimpsed her dragons, declaring themselves her loyal servants in all things, but from Quaithe she had gotten only the rare cryptic word. A great many people had shown interests in helping her regain her throne. First, from the barren wastes, a mercenary company by the name of the Talon Company, offered to help her if she proved worthy. They had given her more assistance with their two thousand swords than what seemed like empty promises that the princes and important persons in Qarth. While she hasn't been able to read or find out what their intentions were through their undecipherable leader, Ellion, they were somehow much more trustworthy than those she met in Qarth. Remember Mirri Maz Duur, she told herself. Remember treachery.

"We will keep our own watch so long as we are here. See that no one enters this wing of the palace without my leave, and take care that the dragons are always well guarded."

"It shall be done, Khaleesi," Aggo said.

"We have seen only the parts of Qarth that Pyat Pree wished us to see," she went on. "Rakharo, go forth and look on the rest, and tell me what you find. Take good men with you—and women, to go places where men are forbidden."

"As you say, I do, blood of my blood," said Rakharo.

"Ser Jorah, find the docks and see what manner of ships lay at anchor. It has been half a year since I last heard tidings from the Seven Kingdoms. Perhaps the gods will have blown some good captain here from Westeros with a ship to carry us home."

The knight frowned. "That would be no kindness. The Usurper will kill you, sure as sunrise." Mormont hooked his thumbs through his sword belt. "My place is here at your side."

"Even if you got a ship, two thousand mercenary swords isn't enough to face even the smallest house in Westeros. I don't know much about what lies beyond the sea, but I do know, their armies are organized far more than any mercenary company or army you can see in Essos," someone stated. And from a corner in the room, Ellion, the mercenary, leaned on the wall. His face still as calm and stoic as ever. He had been so quiet most of them had forgotten he was even there in the room with them. He had really changed from what she could remember from him in Volantis.

"Even so, we must make progress towards my ultimate goal. Reclaiming the seven kingdoms from the Usurper," she addressed him. His face remained unchanged, but he simply nodded, "Jhogo and Ellion can guard me as well. You have more languages than my bloodriders, and the Dothraki mistrust the sea and those who sail her. Only you can serve me in this. Go among the ships and speak to the crews, learn where they are from and where they are bound and what manner of men command them."

Reluctantly, the exile nodded. "As you say, my queen."

When all the men exited Jorah was giving Ellion looks, as if trying to tell him not to try anything to harm her. He was still suspicious of him, but she could not blame him. Her handmaids stripped off the travelstained silks she wore, and Dany padded out to where the marble pool sat in the shade of a portico. The water was deliciously cool, and the pool was stocked with tiny golden fish that nibbled curiously at her skin and made her giggle. It felt good to close her eyes and float, knowing she could rest as long as she liked. She wondered whether Aegon‟s Red Keep had a pool like this, and fragrant gardens full of lavender and mint.

The Usurper will kill you, sure as sunrise, Mormont had said. Robert had slain her gallant brother Rhaegar, and one of his creatures had crossed the Dothraki sea to poison her and her unborn son. They said Robert Baratheon was strong as a bull and fearless in battle, a man who loved nothing better than war. And with him stood the great lords her brother had named the Usurper's dogs, cold-eyed Eddard Stark with his frozen heart, and the golden Lannisters, father and son, so rich, so powerful, so treacherous.

Ser Jorah had returned from the docks . . . and not alone. "Send him in, with whomever he has brought," she said, curious. When they entered, she was seated on a mound of cushions, her dragons all about her. The man he brought with him wore a cloak of green and yellow feathers and had skin as black as polished jet. "

Your Grace," the knight said, "I bring you Quhuru Mo, captain of the Cinnamon Wind out of Tall Trees Town."

The black man knelt. "I am greatly honored, my queen," he said; not in the tongue of the Summer Isles, which Dany did not know, but in the liquid Valyrian of the Nine Free Cities. "The honor is mine, Quhuru Mo," said Dany in the same language. "Have you come from the Summer Isles?"

"This is so, Your Grace, but before, not half a year past, we called at Oldtown. From there I bring you a wondrous gift."

"A gift?"

"A gift of news. Dragon Mother, Stormborn, I tell you true, Robert Baratheon is dead."

Outside her walls, dusk was settling over Qarth, but a sun had risen in Dany's heart. "Dead?" she repeated. In her lap, black Drogon hissed, and pale smoke rose before her face like a veil. "You are certain? The Usurper is dead?"

"So it is said in Oldtown, and Dorne, and Lys, and all the other ports where we have called."

He sent me poisoned wine, yet I live and he is gone. The man that had forced her to live in exile, and killed many of those she held dear. "What was the manner of his death?" On her shoulder, pale Viserion flapped wings the color of cream, stirring the air.

"Torn by a monstrous boar whilst hunting in his kingswood, or so I heard in Oldtown. Others say his queen betrayed him, or his brother, or Lord Stark who was his Hand. Yet all the tales agree in this: King Robert is dead and in his grave."

"The boy sits the Iron Throne now," Ser Jorah said

"King Joffrey reigns," Quhuru Mo agreed, "but the Lannisters rule. Robert's brothers seem to backing the second son of Robert Baratheon, Lord Stafford Baratheon of Storm's End . and the Hand has fallen, Lord Stark who was King Robert's friend. He was executed at the Sept for treason. The young Prince Stafford made quite the scene during the execution. Now they are are up in arms fighting amongst each other,"

"So much for his honor," Ser Jorah stated. His hatred for the Starks was well founded, he had been exiled from Westeros by them

"If this King is dead, then you must find a way to raise a sizable force, and arrive when you are least expected. It's not my fight...unless you manage to impress my employer," Ellion stated gruffly. Ellion didn't mince words, and his suggestion seemed at least to attempt to help her. Question is, if she 'proves worthy' and receives help from the mercenaries, would it be enough to help her reclaim her kingdoms. More importantly, it seemed the men, who had helped in ousting her father from the throne had received what they deserved. All of what they worked for was unraveling before their very eyes. It also seemed fitting the Robert's sons would be fighting amongst themselves. Both paying for the sins of their treacherous father.

"Then I grieve for you, Dragonmother, and for bleeding Westeros, bereft of its rightful king." Beneath Dany‟s gentle fingers, green Rhaegal stared at the stranger with eyes of molten gold. When his mouth opened, his teeth gleamed like black needles. "When does your ship return to Westeros, Captain?"

"Not for a year or more, I fear. From here the Cinnamon Wind sails east, to make the trader's circle round the Jade Sea."

"I see," said Dany, disappointed. "I wish you fair winds and good trading, then. You have brought me a precious gift."

The Summer Islander promised he would do so, and kissed her lightly on the fingers as he took his leave. Jhiqui showed him out, while Ser Jorah Mormont and the mercenary, Ellion stood in some corner eagerly listening to them.

"Khaleesi," the knight said when they were alone, "I should not speak so freely of your plans, if I were you. We hardly know of his intentions." He was clearly hinting at the mercenary, Ellion.

"Don't speak as if I'm not here knight," he stated bluntly, "If I was going to harm her, I wouldn't use treachery to do so. I'm a mercenary not a criminal."

"But, Ser Jorah is right, we hardly know why you had arrived to us with your offer. How do we know you aren't trying to hinder our cause?"

"Look, I was clear on why I am here. I'm here to evaluate your cause, nothing more. The best way to do so is fighting for you, and if you impress me, my employer, you'll have all of our company under your command," Ellion explained still maintaining his stoic demeanour, "And if I wanted to kill you and your dragons, I would have done it when you were vulnerable."

Ellion was right, he could have killed her in the desert and be done with it if he really wanted to kill her. Ellion didn't try to shower her with false promises of allegiance, and she gained some respect for him in that regard. Slowly, the mercenary was gaining her trust, but she still didn't feel as though he was remotely close to being as trustworthy as those who had been with her since the very beginning, like Ser Jorah.

"It matters not, you have proven to be worthy of at least some trust, Ellion,"

"Glad to hear it," he stated and looked off somewhere else.

"The high lords have always fought. Tell me who‟s won and I'll tell you what it means. Khaleesi, the Seven Kingdoms are not going to fall into your hands like so many ripe peaches. You will need a fleet, gold, armies, alliances—"

"All this I know." She took his hands in hers and looked up into his dark suspicious eyes. Sometimes he thinks of me as a child he must protect, and sometimes as a woman he would like to bed, but does he ever truly see me as his queen? "I am not the frightened girl you met in Pentos. I have counted only fifteen name days, true . . . but I am as old as the crones in the dosh

khaleen and as young as my dragons, Jorah. I have borne a child, burned a khal, and crossed the red waste and the Dothraki sea. Mine is the blood of the dragon."

"As was your brother‟s," he said stubbornly.

"I am not Viserys."

"No," he admitted. "There is more of Rhaegar in you, I think, but even Rhaegar could be slain. Robert proved that on the Trident, with no more than a warhammer. Even dragons can die."

"Dragons die." She stood on her toes to kiss him lightly on an unshaven cheek. "But so do dragonslayers."