A/N: Hope you all have a safe and happy holiday, and I'll see you all in 2025. Take care!

Farwynd & Fire

By Spectre4hire

28: Lys

The hot water didn't soothe Daenerys's stomach as much as she hoped it would when she slipped into the large bathing pool.

The Valyrians of old knew of ways to heat floors, walls, and their baths without need of dragonfire or magic. This particular bath was the size of a large pond, benches were carved along its inner sides allowing guests to sit and converse while they soaked with soft cushioned pillows around the pool's ledge so they could further recline and relax.

They had been in Lys for more than a week, and they planned to stay for at least another, perhaps, even longer. It had been the same in Myr and Tyrosh. She and Dagon would be welcomed by the city's richest and most powerful, inviting them to feasts and balls, performances, and other extravagant displays of wealth and power, each one trying to outdo and outspend the other.

There were familiar faces at these parties for Daenerys. Nobles who had welcomed her and her brother during their years on the run. And they remembered me too. She saw how they hoped to use their shared past to further ingratiate themselves with her husband. She also remembered how each and every one of them eventually tossed her and brother aside when they grew bored of them. They were parts of a past she didn't want to remember. That was a different life. A different me, she left them, a meek exile, and a beggar. And now they trip over themselves for my favor, she would not grant it so easily.

At each port, there was a sea of wealth waiting for them. Trade from her husband's ships, both from those he owned, and those who swore themselves to him. More gold came from the merchants who paid for the privilege and protection to travel in his fleet, as well as a cut from their cargoes. She couldn't recall a single argument or any reluctance from these men. The sea was dangerous and their cargo, while valuable, would be all but worthless if it sank. So, they paid and paid happily for the promise of wealth that awaited them when they safely reached port.

One Myrish merchant's ship thought to slip out of paying. They didn't sail with the fleet, but stayed at a close enough distance, to follow the route while using the fleet's presence to evade sellsails.

She imagined they must've thought themselves terribly clever aboard their own ship. And then she saw how scared they all were when the crew was brought to them after her husband had captured their ship. She enjoyed seeing their pale faces and shivering bodies as they were forced to confess their disrespect.

They paid then.

But not before Dagon threw their captain overboard to be made an example of to his surviving crew and a meal to the sharks below.

An unbidden coil of nausea slithering in her belly made her swim quickly to the edge of the bath. Afraid she may empty her stomach right there into the water. Thankfully, she made it, and was even more grateful that she didn't then promptly heave onto the tile floor. She took a few deep breaths, riding through this nauseous wave like a battered ship through a storm. And to her relief, it soon subsided. She leaned back to rest her head on the pillow and sighed.

She was not the only one feeling ill. The evening before Dagon's younger brother, Ygon had vomited on some Lyseni nobleman at a feast that was being held in her and her husband's honor. It had been a dreadful sight, and with Dany fighting her own queasiness, she worried she may follow her good brother's example then and there. Thankfully, she hadn't. She'd not forget how calmly her husband reacted to the potential embarrassment, at how he quietly ordered some trusted men of his, to take his brother and bring him back to the manse they were staying at.

He was worried, remembering her husband's reaction. He was neither embarrassed nor angry at his brother at what had happened. You will see the dragon wake for this, sweet sister! That was her life with her brother. The dragon that hurt her when she displeased him. She had never done anything like Ygon had, but there were still so many other transgressions in her brother's eyes that caused him to punish her.

She shivered, for a heartbeat, cold and trembling in the hot bath. Icy, little fingers grabbing at her body, squeezing her, each one a past hurt from her brother, and then a billow of steam passed over her. The exhale of some invisible dragon, chasing the cold away.

Opening her eyes, she knew she was alone in the bathhouse. She knew the welcomed steam had come from below, beneath the floors where the fires were built and tended by slaves to keep the room and the water so warm. And not by dragons. She thought of her dragon eggs and of the sea dragons who still visited her in her dreams, now and then.

Dreams are messages from the Deep. She so desperately wanted to unravel its secrets. They will return, she thought with absolute certainty, and it will be because of me.

The door of the bathhouse opened. "If I had known that this was what would be waiting for me then I would've simply killed Salvaro Saan and been done with the farce."

"At least you'd be able to wash the blood away afterwards."

Her husband chuckled.

She turned to face him to see his eyes met hers briefly before dipping to admire her naked body beneath the clear waters of the bath. It sparked a sense of triumph within her, pleased at how he looked at her. It was its own form of power, and she savored it. "Why do the Saans hate you?"

The Saans were a very old and powerful Lyseni family who boast of very famous and influential pirate lords in their family's distinguished past. It had been a Saan that her good brother had vomited on the night before, and it seemed he had come to the manse for some sort of apology or recompense.

"Because I make them look weak," her husband said, "Salladhor Saan calls himself the Prince of the Narrow Sea, a name that now earns him only snickering, because of me," Dagon reached the edge of the bathing pool. "Styling himself its prince is like your brother calling himself the King of the Seven Kingdoms while the Usurper sits on the Iron Throne."

"Will he come after you?"

"Yes, but not yet. Salladhor is a patient man. He is content to wait." He began to take off his shirt. "And wait." He said, "Some of his friends are my friends, and they will wish to make more gold off me before they reveal their true intentions."

"They'd turn on you?" She asked, watching his shirt be tossed aside.

"Yes," his trousers were next to come off. And then all talk of the Saans was discarded along with the rest of his clothes. "I pray you don't think of me as a poor husband for neglecting you."

It was her turn to admire her husband's naked form, lined with hard muscles. She felt the spark of blazing lust inside her, but she feigned to be in deep thought, considering his question. "I suppose you'll have to make it up to me."

"Very well," He smiled, and slipped into the bath to join her.

The next morning, they broke their fast in their chambers, thick Norvoshi tapestries decorated the walls. They were hills and rivers of what she thought were different places around the city. Norvos was one of the Free Cities she and her brother had never gone to during their years on the run. She knew their host Lady Rina was not from that city, but that was one of the only few things Dany knew about her. She was a handsome woman whose silvery gold hair had gone white with age. She dressed extravagantly, but talked little, and preferred to take most of her meals alone in the privacy of her chambers.

"Have I upset her?" Dany had asked Dagon after their second evening without their host, worried she'd done something to insult her.

"That's just her way," Dagon assured her, unconcerned of their host's behavior. "She speaks when she wishes to, and she'll eat with us if she desires." He said, "She's no longer beholden to her husband and his strict routine. She lives how she wishes to live."

Daenerys understood that feeling all too well. She had been beholden to the whims of her brother for so many years. It was almost all she could remember besides a few flashes of the home in Braavos with the red door. Where they lived with Ser Willem Darry, who was kind to her, and made her feel safe. Something she'd not feel again until she met her husband. Now, like the widow, it was her turn to be free, and she enjoyed every moment of her new life.

She looked down at her plate of eggs and bacon. The wafting smell made her stomach roil. "The Saans were not at the feast last night."

"They were not."

"Do you know how they'll come after us?"

"Likely poison," Dagon said mildly, before biting into his bacon.

Looking down at her food, Dany was almost relieved she had little appetite this morning.

"Our food is tested by the slaves," Dagon said, misjudging her hesitance to eat. "And Ramsay watches them closely."

A small touch of pity welled up inside her at the house slave assigned to that unenviable task. Until she thought of Dagon being taken from her by such trickery, then their potential suffering seemed so inconsequential to her numbing grief of losing him. "They don't concern you." She admired her husband's confidence, but she knew it was well placed after everything he's accomplished.

"The Lyseni surround themselves with slaves and they think this makes them strong," he cut into his eggs. "But they didn't take them, fight for them, bleed for them. They merely bought them like one would a rug or a desk," He took a bite, chewing and swallowing before continuing. "There is no strength in that. And there is nothing to respect in such an enemy," he sighed. "I pray they attack us on the open seas. There's glory in that. Great songs could be crafted for such a victory," he said, "There's none to be made in killing some kitchen slave."

It also didn't make her food any more appealing at the thought of it being poisoned and then approved for her plate. She moved her food a bit with her fork to make it look like she had eaten more than she had. Looking down at the mushed eggs, she felt a queasy pang pass over her, putting her napkin to her mouth, pretending to dab at her lips while trying to suppress her unruly stomach.

"Captain," The knock at the door proved a most welcome distraction. At her husband's word, Lonnie slipped into the room. He bowed his head to her before turning back to face her husband. "Ygon is asking for you, Captain."

Dagon's dark eyes were unreadable upon hearing his brother's request. "I will see him."

"Send him my regards," Daenerys said, smiling when she felt the brief touch of her husband's hand squeeze her shoulder before passing her, a subtle gesture, but precious to her all the same. She hoped her good brother was feeling better, but she was thankful for the distraction it had on her husband. She pushed herself out of her chair no longer needing to pretend to be eating her food.

Daenerys was certain she caught this sickness sometime after they arrived in Lys. Ports were often havens for illnesses with so many different ships carrying various crews and cargoes from all around the world. It's nothing, she told herself, not wishing to tell her husband. The rest of the crew weren't sick like her, and she didn't want them to think she was some frail greenlander. She doubted ironborn saw a maester over a belly ache.

It'll pass, she'd see it through without complaint or struggle. She had to.

Make my brother whole again, Dagon prayed to the Drowned God in the closing gloom of twilight.

"We're ready, Captain."

He turned away from the sea to where Ramsay and his thralls were waiting with their cages positioned along the shore. He had bound himself to seven, but that was not the limit to his gift. Not even close. He could skinchange into other creatures, but when he did, he preferred to keep the interactions brief, not wanting to indirectly imprint with them. Just long enough to serve my purpose.

He stretched out his awareness, searching what he was looking for which appeared to him as gaps which he then filled with his thoughts, wresting control of their bodies. It was an overwhelming push they couldn't defend, all but stunning them while he settled inside them. When it was over, each one came to him like a dot of light, tiny windows in a sea of darkness. They were too weak to resist, so when he commanded them, they followed as if they were their own thoughts.

The crabs marched out of the tide like a procession of armored knights. Their red shells glimmering in the fading sunlight. Directed by invisible strings they went into the waiting cages without fear or hesitation.

"Thank you, Captain," Ramsay watched the scuttling crabs with undisguised excitement. "We'll not disappoint you." He gave the orders to his thralls, who closed the cages when the last crabs went in. They then hauled them up and carried them back towards the manse.

Dagon dispelled a breath, extinguishing the lights in his mind and releasing his hold on them. Brine and meat and other strange tastes lingered in his mouth. He wordlessly grabbed the glass from the waiting thrall. He spat the first two mouthfuls into the sea, trying to wash his palate clean. The next couple he swallowed. The senses of the animals could sometimes stick with him after he left, with taste being the worst. Ghostly meals that would fill his mouth and could even fool his stomach.

Crabs were rarely used by his ancestors as companions. There was one Lady Farwynd who had kept a very large crab, supposedly the size of a cat, and used its pincers to punish rapers. And if he remembered his family history correctly, she even used it on a usurping cousin, who saw himself as the rightful ruler even though he was a salt son descended from an uncle, and not directly tied to the last ruling Lord of Lonely Light. The legend says after the cousin's cock was cut, he was forced to watch the crab eat it, with Lady Farwynd remarking afterwards: "All this posturing over such a small matter."

"Will that be our supper?"

He looked over his shoulder to see his approaching wife. He prayed he'd never lose those admiring looks she'd give him. "No," he answered, "they're for another purpose."

She took his hand in hers when she was near enough. "So, you'll not become a fisherman then?" She teased him lightly.

Fishing was a respectable trade amongst the Islands. One of the Drowned God's own sons was a fisherman, who used his nets to capture lost souls, bringing them onto his boat where sea sprites served them before taking them to his Father's watery halls. It was not just ironborn raiders who'd be lost at sea, but fishermen too had to endure the Storm God's wrath. They bravely sailed to serve their people to insure they never starved, and the Drowned God rewarded such service and devotion. Fishermen often wore the son's symbol as a charm to ward off the Storm God.

On some islands, it's taught that this son was the one who made the first nets to not just feed the ironborn, but to prove his own worth to his father, who saw him as the weakest of His sons. 'Not all born can be warriors, but all must eat. A fisherman's net is as important as a reaver's sword.' The Drowned God agreed and raised the son up and tasked him to watch over fishermen and to ensure that all ironborn lost at sea found passage to His halls.

In the heartbeats of reflection, he considered his answer. "There is honor in fishing," thinking of the small boat he and Ygon used to sail on around Lonely Light when they were boys after the war. By then they both had companions. He had Rhaenys and Ygon had his silver dolphin who he named Norren. A silver streak, who surfed through the waves.

"Dagon?" She lifted her hand to touch his face. "Are you-" he answered the question before she could finish with a shake of his head.

"I was just lost in a memory," He explained, her face was open, wanting to hear more.

She enjoyed hearing the stories of when he was younger. She didn't have such happy memories. She and her brother were not idly fishing, but running and hiding, starving and scared, while the Drowned God gave Dagon and his family succor and safety at Lonely Light. She endured it all because she has a strength that wouldn't crumble. It was why the Drowned God chose her and blessed her.

"I've never seen Norren," she said after he finished telling her a few stories.

"Norren's dead," Dagon said flatly, "That's why my brother drinks."

"Oh," she said softly, but she didn't understand, and given his own connection with his companions, she would need to.

Death was nothing but a wound for a Farwynd, he thought, and once inflicted all that could be determined was would it fester or would it fade. To Dagon's growing concern for his brother, it was appearing to be the former.

"Captain?"

Their moment was interrupted by the arrival of his sprinting squire. Lonnie was smart enough to know when to interrupt him and when not to. "Word from Westeros." He said in between hurried breaths.

Dagon understood. "Let us see what news the Spider has for us."

A/N: We know the news from Westeros so there's no need to see Dagon and co react to it.

This chapter takes place a couple months after we last saw Dagon and Dany in chapter 26. The next chapter will also take place in Lys before another short time skip.

I gave the Saans a few Ocs bc I imagine a family that old and rich would likely have a lot more members than just Salladhor. Their rivalry with Dagon just seemed natural since they're basically 'old' money and Dagon is 'new' money and a foreigner on top of that. Pride and status mean a lot to the elite and there would be some who'd feel more threatened than appreciative of Dagon.

Everything in this chapter about ironborn lore and Farwynd lore is stuff I made up. Despite the ironborn's words on dying, I think the Farwynds would have a more nuanced understanding/dealing with death because of their skinchanging. People and faith aren't monoliths, and even though Dagon believes in the words, he approaches/sees them from a unique lens.

Kudos to anyone who picks up the easter egg/reference of Ygon's companion. I tweaked the spelling of the name to give it a more ASOIAF flavor.

This year has gone by fast. I was able to post 13 chapters this year including this last one, which I don't think is too bad. I was able to update that much because of the wonderful support you've given me and this story. So thank you so much.

Until 2025,

-Spectre4hire