#* ── SER GRANDFATHER. / BARRISTAN SELMY.

[mikastormborn]

Barristan 🤝 the slaves 🤝 Daenerys breaking the slavers' peace

"Your gods are far away, Ser Grandfather," said the Widower. "I do not think they hear your prayers. And when the Yunkai'i send back the old woman to spit in your eye, what then?"

"Fire and blood," said Barristan Selmy, softly, softly.

For a long moment no one spoke. Then Strong Belwas slapped his belly and said, "Better than liver and onions," and Skahaz Shavepate stared through the eyes of his wolf's head mask and said, "You would break King Hizdahr's peace, old man?"

"I would shatter it." (ADWD, The Queen's Hand)

~

Daenerys Targaryen was wed, the guards on the pens had told them, laughing. She had taken a Meereenese slaver as her king, as wealthy as he was noble, and when the peace was signed and sealed the fighting pits of Meereen would open once again. Other slaves insisted that the guards were lying, that Daenerys Targaryen would never make peace with slavers. Mhysa, they called her. Someone told him that meant Mother. Soon the silver queen would come forth from her city, smash the Yunkai'i, and break their chains, they whispered to one another. (ADWD, Tyrion X)

~

"It is such a long way," she complained. "I was tired, Jorah. I was weary of war. I wanted to rest, to laugh, to plant trees and see them grow. I am only a young girl."

No. You are the blood of the dragon. The whispering was growing fainter, as if Ser Jorah were falling farther behind. Dragons plant no trees. Remember that. Remember who you are, what you were made to be. Remember your words.

"Fire and Blood," Daenerys told the swaying grass. (ADWD, Daenerys X)

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Daenerys IX (Chapter 52)

Where is Vicky? I've waited long enough.

Jhiqui brought a soft towel to pat her dry. "Khaleesi, which tokar will you want today?" asked Irri.

"The yellow silk." The queen of the rabbits could not be seen without her floppy ears. The yellow silk was light and cool, and it would be blistering down in the pit. The red sands will burn the soles of those about to die. "And over it, the long red veils." The veils would keep the wind from blowing sand into her mouth. And the red will hide any blood spatters.

You have no idea.

+.+.+

At the base of the Great Pyramid, Ser Barristan awaited them beside an ornate open palanquin, surrounded by Brazen Beasts. Ser Grandfather, Dany thought. Despite his age, he looked tall and handsome in the armor that she'd given him. "I would be happier if you had Unsullied guards about you today, Your Grace," the old knight said, as Hizdahr went to greet his cousin. "Half of these Brazen Beasts are untried freedmen." And the other half are Meereenese of doubtful loyalty, he left unsaid. Selmy mistrusted all the Meereenese, even shavepates.

It's LOCUSTS TIME!

Who poisoned the locusts? I apologize, we'll need Barry's POV to help solve this mystery. Today we'll only be covering the three major suspects.

Starting with SUSPECT #1: the Brazen Beasts (the Shavepate).

Within the first few paragraphs of the chapter we learn 1) the Brazen Beasts are guarding Daenerys instead of the Unsullied, 2) Some have doubtful loyalty.

We're off to a good start.

Ser Grandfather, Dany thought.

I would do anything for her to slip and say this out loud.

+.+.+

"A mask can hide many things, Your Grace. Is the man behind the owl mask the same owl who guarded you yesterday and the day before? How can we know?"

"How should Meereen ever come to trust the Brazen Beasts if I do not? There are good brave men beneath those masks. I put my life into their hands." 

3) They're unidentifiable.

The Shavepate was absent as well. The first thing Hizdahr had done upon being crowned was to remove him from command of the Brazen Beasts, replacing him with his own cousin, the plump and pasty Marghaz zo Loraq. It is for the best. The Green Grace says there is blood between Loraq and Kandaq, and the Shavepate never made a secret of his disdain for my lord husband. And Daario … - Daenerys VIII, ADWD

x

If I wed Hizdahr, will that turn Skahaz against me? She trusted Skahaz more than she trusted Hizdahr, but the Shavepate would be a disaster as a king. He was too quick to anger, too slow to forgive. - Daenerys IV, ADWD

We don't know if the Shavepate is lurking under one of these masks.

I put my life into their hands.

Oop.

+.+.+

Dany smiled for him. "You fret too much, ser. I will have you beside me, what other protection do I need?"

Please oh please let him be there when she's murdered. I don't ask for much.

"Barristan the Bold, they call him. Twice he has saved me from assassins." - Daenerys III, ADWD

Three!!

+.+.+

"Your Grace. We set the woman Meris free, as you commanded. Before she went, she asked to speak with you. I met with her instead. She claims this Tattered Prince meant to bring the Windblown over to your cause from the beginning. That he sent her here to treat with you secretly, but the Dornishmen unmasked them and betrayed them before she could make her own approach."

Treachery on treachery, the queen thought wearily. Is there no end to it? "How much of this do you believe, ser?"

"Little and less, Your Grace, but those were her words."

"Will they come over to us, if need be?"

"She says they will. But for a price."

"Pay it." Meereen needed iron, not gold.

"The Tattered Prince will want more than coin, Your Grace. Meris says that he wants Pentos."

[...]

"Pentos belongs to the Pentoshi. And Magister Illyrio is in Pentos. He who arranged my marriage to Khal Drogo and gave me my dragon eggs. Who sent me you, and Belwas, and Groleo. I owe him much and more. I will not repay that debt by giving his city to some sellsword. No."

This must be here for a reason.

Let's see if she keeps this same energy when she learns about Illyrio and Aegon.

+.+.+

Ser Barristan inclined his head. "Your Grace is wise."

+.+.+

"Auspicious for you, perhaps. Less so for those who must die before the sun goes down."

"All men must die," said Hizdahr

Hehe.

+.+.+

When they caught sight of the palanquin emerging from the pyramid, a cheer went up from those nearest and spread across the plaza. How queer, the queen thought. They cheer me on the same plaza where I once impaled one hundred sixty-three Great Masters.

Daenerys rejecting a cheering crowd? Nothing will make this girl happy at this point.

+.+.+

A great drum led the royal procession to clear their way through the streets. Between each beat, a shavepate herald in a shirt of polished copper disks cried for the crowd to part. BOMM. "They come!" BOMM. "Make way!" BOMM. "The queen!" BOMM. "The king!" BOMM. 

The Red Wedding taught me to be wary of these noises.

+.+.+

Behind the drum marched Brazen Beasts four abreast. Some carried cudgels, others staves; all wore pleated skirts, leathern sandals, and patchwork cloaks sewn from squares of many colors to echo the many-colored bricks of Meereen. Their masks gleamed in the sun: boars and bulls, hawks and herons, lions and tigers and bears, fork-tongued serpents and hideous basilisks.

SUSPECT #1: the Brazen Beasts (the Shavepate) are name-dropped roughly 57 times at the start of this chapter. The author wants you to be aware of their presence.

+.+.+

Dany could hear her handmaids arguing behind her, debating who was going to win the day's final match. Jhiqui favored the gigantic Goghor, who looked more bull than man, even to the bronze ring in his nose. Irri insisted that Belaquo Bonebreaker's flail would prove the giant's undoing. My handmaids are Dothraki, she told herself. Death rides with every khalasar. The day she wed Khal Drogo, the arakhs had flashed at her wedding feast, and men had died whilst others drank and mated. Life and death went hand in hand amongst the horselords, and a sprinkling of blood was thought to bless a marriage. Her new marriage would soon be drenched in blood. How blessed it would be.

You are also Dothraki in mind and spirit.

And did a whole lot less bitching at all the barbaric shit they did.

+.+.+

BOMM, BOMM, BOMM, BOMM, BOMM, BOMM, came the drumbeats, faster than before, suddenly angry and impatient. Ser Barristan drew his sword as the column ground to an abrupt halt between the pink-and-white pyramid of Pahl and the green-and-black of Naqqan.

Dany turned. "Why are we stopped?"

Hizdahr stood. "The way is blocked."

A palanquin lay overturned athwart their way. 

Enter SUSPECT #2: House Pahl.

Why House Pahl?

There's a lot of bad blood between Daenerys and House Pahl.

It was true that there was blood between her and the House of Pahl. Oznak zo Pahl had been cut down by Strong Belwas in single combat. His father, commander of Meereen's city watch, had died defending the gates when Joso's Cock smashed them into splinters. Three uncles had been among the hundred sixty-three on the plaza. - Daenerys I, ADWD

It's now a house comprised of women who don't forgive or forget.

"You have no lack of enemies, Your Grace. You can see their pyramids from your terrace. Zhak, Hazkar, Ghazeen, Merreq, Loraq, all the old slaving families. Pahl. Pahl, most of all. A house of women now. Bitter old women with a taste for blood. Women do not forget. Women do not forgive." - Daenerys I, ADWD

Not the best situation to be abruptly stopped between a pyramid of theirs and Naqqan.

+.+.+

Ser Barristan glanced uneasily to left and right. Ghiscari faces were visible on the terraces, looking down with cool and unsympathetic eyes. "Your Grace, I do not like this halt. This may be some trap. The Sons of the Harpy—"

"—have been tamed," declared Hizdahr zo Loraq. 

Apparently Hizdahr knows the Common Tongue.

Or maybe the author is being ditzy again.

+.+.+

"Why should they seek to harm my queen when she has taken me for her king and consort? Now help that man, as my sweet queen has commanded." He took Dany by the hand and smiled.

I'm skipping ahead, but I have to make a point.

Introducing SUSPECT #3: Hizdahr zo Loraq.

I know what you're asking yourselves -

"Didn't she make him king? Didn't he get his fighting pits reopened? Didn't he successfully convince her to allow the slave trade to continue in Slaver's Bay? Didn't he get everything he wanted?"

Yes.

"What's his motive? Why would he want to kill Daenerys before they produce an heir?"

I don't know, ask the dumbfuck in white.

+.+.+

The Brazen Beasts did as they were bid. Dany watched them at their work. "Those bearers were slaves before I came. I made them free. Yet that palanquin is no lighter."

"True," said Hizdahr, "but those men are paid to bear its weight now. Before you came, that man who fell would have an overseer standing over him, stripping the skin off his back with a whip. Instead he is being given aid."

It was true. A Brazen Beast in a boar mask had offered the litter bearer a skin of water. "I suppose I must be thankful for small victories," the queen said.

How is that a small victory?

The Brazen Beasts are doing things!

+.+.+

"One step, then the next, and soon we shall be running. Together we shall make a new Meereen." 

Slly goose, why walk when you can fly?

+.+.+

Around them peddlers were selling dog sausages, roast onions, and unborn puppies on a stick, but Dany had no need of such. 

My Western brain is simply aghast at the cultural practices of these primitive uncivilized people.

The wedding feast began with a thin leek soup, followed by a salad of green beans, onions, and beets, river pike poached in almond milk, mounds of mashed turnips that were cold before they reached the table, jellied calves' brains, and a leche of stringy beef. - Catelyn VII, ASOS

+.+.+

Hizdahr had stocked their box with flagons of chilled wine and sweetwater, with figs, dates, melons, and pomegranates, with pecans and peppers and a big bowl of honeyed locusts. Strong Belwas bellowed, "Locusts!" as he seized the bowl and began to crunch them by the handful.

"Those are very tasty," advised Hizdahr. "You ought to try a few yourself, my love. They are rolled in spice before the honey, so they are sweet and hot at once."

"That explains the way Belwas is sweating," Dany said. "I believe I will content myself with figs and dates."

Boy, that doesn't look good for SUSPECT #3: Hizdahr zo Loraq.

Except, if he is trying to kill Daenerys, he's doing it in a way that would guarantee he's the prime suspect. Imagine how stupid it would have been if Olenna chose to hand Joffrey the glass of wine.

For the record, the locusts were already in their box when they arrived, Hizdahr was unbothered when she declined, and he will never mention the locusts again.

+.+.+

Across the pit the Graces sat in flowing robes of many colors, clustered around the austere figure of Galazza Galare, who alone amongst them wore the green. The Great Masters of Meereen occupied the red and orange benches. The women were veiled, and the men had brushed and lacquered their hair into horns and hands and spikes. Hizdahr's kin of the ancient line of Loraq seemed to favor tokars of purple and indigo and lilac, whilst those of Pahl were striped in pink and white. 

Random SUSPECT #2: House Pahl mention.

+.+.+

"Great Masters! My queen has come this day, to show her love for you, her people. By her grace and with her leave, I give you now your mortal art. Meereen! Let Queen Daenerys hear your love!"

Ten thousand throats roared out their thanks; then twenty thousand; then all. They did not call her name, which few of them could pronounce. "Mother!" they cried instead; in the old dead tongue of Ghis, the word was Mhysa! They stamped their feet and slapped their bellies and shouted, "Mhysa, Mhysa, Mhysa," until the whole pit seemed to tremble. Dany let the sound wash over her. I am not your mother, she might have shouted, back, I am the mother of your slaves, of every boy who ever died upon these sands whilst you gorged on honeyed locusts. Behind her, Reznak leaned in to whisper in her ear, "Magnificence, hear how they love you!"

No, she knew, they love their mortal art. 

Even "Mhysa, Mhysa, Mhysa" is not cheering up grumpy? Man oh man, these people are going to die a bad death.

+.+.+

Khrazz was Meereenese, of humble birth—a tall man with a brush of stiff red-black hair running down the center of his head. His foe was an ebon-skinned spearman from the Summer Isles whose thrusts kept Khrazz at bay for a time, but once he slipped inside the spear with his shortsword, only butchery remained. After it was done, Khrazz cut the heart from the black man, raised it above his head red and dripping, and took a bite from it.

"Khrazz believes the hearts of brave men make him stronger," said Hizdahr. Jhiqui murmured her approval. Dany had once eaten a stallion's heart to give strength to her unborn son … but that had not saved Rhaego when the maegi murdered him in her womb.

Ser Jorah had killed her son, Dany knew. He had done what he did for love and loyalty, yet he had carried her into a place no living man should go and fed her baby to the darkness. He knew it too; the grey face, the hollow eyes, the limp. "The shadows have touched you too, Ser Jorah," she told him. The knight made no reply. Dany turned to the godswife. "You warned me that only death could pay for life. I thought you meant the horse."

"No," Mirri Maz Duur said. "That was a lie you told yourself. You knew the price."

Had she? Had she? If I look back I am lost. "The price was paid," Dany said. - Daenerys IX, AGOT

+.+.+

Three treasons shall you know. She was the first, Jorah was the second, Brown Ben Plumm the third. Was she done with betrayals?

How is Brown Ben Plumm your treason for love? God, what a dumb person.

+.+.+

"Ah," said Hizdahr, pleased. "Now comes the Spotted Cat. See how he moves, my queen. A poem on two feet."

The foe Hizdahr had found for the walking poem was as tall as Goghor and as broad as Belwas, but slow. They were fighting six feet from Dany's box when the Spotted Cat hamstrung him. As the man stumbled to his knees, the Cat put a foot on his back and a hand around his head and opened his throat from ear to ear. The red sands drank his blood, the wind his final words. The crowd screamed its approval.

Some of these fights appear to be foreshadowing future events. It's possible the Spotted Cat might be hinting at someone.

If Arya is slitting someone's throat, it's not Walder Frey's.

+.+.+

"Bad fighting, good dying," said Strong Belwas. "Strong Belwas hates it when they scream." He had finished all the honeyed locusts. He gave a belch and took a swig of wine.

Daenerys loves it when they scream.

Because he drank wine, a ton of people question whether it was the locusts or the wine that poisoned him.

Why does it matter? We don't have to overthink this.

+.+.+

"This one shows much promise, my sweet," Hizdahr said of a Lysene youth with long blond hair that fluttered in the wind … but his foe grabbed a handful of that hair, pulled the boy off-balance, and gutted him. In death he looked even younger than he had with blade in hand. "A boy," said Dany. "He was only a boy."

"Six-and-ten," Hizdahr insisted. "A man grown, who freely chose to risk his life for gold and glory. No children die today in Daznak's, as my gentle queen in her wisdom has decreed."

That's considered fAegon evidence.

Aurane did not resemble Prince Rhaegar as much as she had thought. He has the hair, but so do half the whores in Lys, if the tales are true. Rhaegar was a man. This is a sly boy, no more. Useful in his way, though. - Cersei VIII, ADWD

x

He was a lithe and well-made youth, with a lanky build and a shock of dark blue hair. The dwarf put his age at fifteen, sixteen, or near enough to make no matter. - Tyrion III, ADWD

+.+.+

"A boy," said Dany. "He was only a boy."

"Six-and-ten," Hizdahr insisted.

"Slay the Good Masters, slay the soldiers, slay every man who wears a tokar or holds a whip, but harm no child under twelve, and strike the chains off every slave you see." - Daenerys III, ASOS

Shut up, Daenerys.

+.+.+

Another small victory. Perhaps I cannot make my people good, she told herself, but I should at least try to make them a little less bad. 

Do you ever remember her thinking about the Dothraki this way? I don't.

+.+.+

It had been the custom to sentence criminals to the pits; that practice she agreed might resume, but only for certain crimes. "Murderers and rapers may be forced to fight, and all those who persist in slaving, but not thieves or debtors."

It's okay when we're doing Justice™.

+.+.+

Beasts were still allowed, though. Dany watched an elephant make short work of a pack of six red wolves.

The number six is a little troubling. Hopefully nothing.

+.+.+

Next a bull was set against a bear in a bloody battle that left both animals torn and dying. "The flesh is not wasted," said Hizdahr. "The butchers use the carcasses to make a healthful stew for the hungry. Any man who presents himself at the Gates of Fate may have a bowl."

"A good law," Dany said. You have so few of them. "We must make certain that this tradition is continued."

Has the novelty worn off?

+.+.+

After the beast fights came a mock battle, pitting six men on foot against six horsemen, the former armed with shields and longswords, the latter with Dothraki arakhs. The mock knights were clad in mail hauberks, whilst the mock Dothraki wore no armor. At first the riders seemed to have the advantage, riding down two of their foes and slashing the ear from a third, but then the surviving knights began to attack the horses, and one by one the riders were unmounted and slain, to Jhiqui's great disgust. "That was no true khalasar," she said.

Bwahahahaha.

First the snow, and now this? I'm starting to think these Dothraki might struggle in Westeros!

The man was no knight, but his courage had earned him that much courtesy. Khrazz did not know how to fight a man in armor. Ser Barristan could see it in his eyes: doubt, confusion, the beginnings of fear. The pit fighter came on again, screaming this time, as if sound could slay his foe where steel could not. The arakh slashed low, high, low again. - The Kingbreaker, ADWD

(Shoutout to @redwolf17 for helping me find the quote!)

+.+.+

The battle was followed by the day's first folly, a tilt between a pair of jousting dwarfs, presented by one of the Yunkish lords that Hizdahr had invited to the games. One rode a hound, the other a sow. Their wooden armor had been freshly painted, so one bore the stag of the usurper Robert Baratheon, the other the golden lion of House Lannister. That was for her sake, plainly. Their antics soon had Belwas snorting laughter, though Dany's smile was faint and forced. When the dwarf in red tumbled from the saddle and began to chase his sow across the sands, whilst the dwarf on the dog galloped after him, whapping at his buttocks with a wooden sword, she said, "This is sweet and silly, but …"

"Be patient, my sweet," said Hizdahr. "They are about to loose the lions."

Daenerys gave him a quizzical look. "Lions?"

"Three of them. The dwarfs will not expect them."

She frowned. "The dwarfs have wooden swords. Wooden armor. How do you expect them to fight lions?"

"Badly," said Hizdahr, "though perhaps they will surprise us. More like they will shriek and run about and try to climb out of the pit. That is what makes this a folly."

Dany was not pleased. "I forbid it."

"Gentle queen. You do not want to disappoint your people."

"You swore to me that the fighters would be grown men who had freely consented to risk their lives for gold and honor. These dwarfs did not consent to battle lions with wooden swords. You will stop it. Now."

The king's mouth tightened. For a heartbeat Dany thought she saw a flash of anger in those placid eyes. "As you command." Hizdahr beckoned to his pitmaster. "No lions," he said when the man trotted over, whip in hand.

And just like that, Hizdahr becomes a sadist.

That must mean someone is going to brutally kill him.

+.+.+

The dwarfs were herded off, pig and dog and all, as the spectators hissed their disapproval and pelted them with stones and rotten fruit.

Why must Penny be there? I'm not allowed to have one happy moment.

+.+.+

The boar was a huge beast, with tusks as long as a man's forearm and small eyes that swam with rage. She wondered whether the boar that had killed Robert Baratheon had looked as fierce. A terrible creature and a terrible death. For a heartbeat she felt almost sorry for the Usurper.

"Barsena is very quick," Reznak said. "She will dance with the boar, Magnificence, and slice him when he passes near her. He will be awash in blood before he falls, you shall see."

It began just as he said. The boar charged, Barsena spun aside, her blade flashed silver in the sun. "She needs a spear," Ser Barristan said, as Barsena vaulted over the beast's second charge. "That is no way to fight a boar." He sounded like someone's fussy old grandsire, just as Daario was always saying.

Sure, now you're a boar expert.

He sounded like someone's fussy old grandsire, just as Daario was always saying.

How do people read this and not see Cersei?

+.+.+

Shouting, she edged closer to the boar, tossing her knife from hand to hand. When the beast backed away, she cursed and slashed at his snout, trying to provoke him … and succeeding. This time her leap came an instant too late, and a tusk ripped her left leg open from knee to crotch.

A moan went up from thirty thousand throats. Clutching at her torn leg, Barsena dropped her knife and tried to hobble off, but before she had gone two feet the boar was on her once again. 

+.+.+

"Fighting pigs is brave, but it is not brave to scream so loud. It hurts Strong Belwas in the ears." The eunuch rubbed his swollen stomach, crisscrossed with old white scars. "It makes Strong Belwas sick in his belly too."

See what happens when you talk shit?

That's why I always have ipecac on hand.

+.+.+

The boar buried his snout in Barsena's belly and began rooting out her entrails. The smell was more than the queen could stand. The heat, the flies, the shouts from the crowd … I cannot breathe. She lifted her veil and let it flutter away. She took her tokar off as well. The pearls rattled softly against one another as she unwound the silk.

"Khaleesi?" Irri asked. "What are you doing?"

"Taking off my floppy ears."

There goes the pearly tokar. Forever.

Guys, I think she might be done with Meereen.

(Is she half naked? Lol.)

+.+.+

"Belaquo will win," Irri declared. "It is known."

"It is not known," Jhiqui said. "Belaquo will die."

"One will die, or the other will," said Dany. "And the one who lives will die some other day. This was a mistake."

"Strong Belwas ate too many locusts." There was a queasy look on Belwas's broad brown face. "Strong Belwas needs milk."

Hizdahr ignored the eunuch. 

SUSPECT #3: Hizdahr zo Loraq doesn't appear to know what's happening to Strong Belwas. Kind of strange when you're the one who poisoned the locusts.

The Dothraki girls loving the entertainment is a nice touch.

+.+.+

"Magnificence, the people of Meereen have come to celebrate our union. You heard them cheering you. Do not cast away their love."

"It was my floppy ears they cheered, not me. Take me from this abbatoir, husband." 

Look at how pouty she is over fake love.

+.+.+

A shadow rippled across his face.

The tumult and the shouting died. Ten thousand voices stilled. Every eye turned skyward. A warm wind brushed Dany's cheeks, and above the beating of her heart she heard the sound of wings. Two spearmen dashed for shelter. The pitmaster froze where he stood. The boar went snuffling back to Barsena. Strong Belwas gave a moan, stumbled from his seat, and fell to his knees.

+.+.+

Above them all the dragon turned, dark against the sun. His scales were black, his eyes and horns and spinal plates blood red. Ever the largest of her three, in the wild Drogon had grown larger still. His wings stretched twenty feet from tip to tip, black as jet. He flapped them once as he swept back above the sands, and the sound was like a clap of thunder. The boar raised his head, snorting … and flame engulfed him, black fire shot with red. Dany felt the wash of heat thirty feet away. The beast's dying scream sounded almost human. Drogon landed on the carcass and sank his claws into the smoking flesh. As he began to feed, he made no distinction between Barsena and the boar.

Won't be the last time we hear that sound.

Thunder!

+.+.+

"Oh, gods," moaned Reznak, "he's eating her!" The seneschal covered his mouth. Strong Belwas was retching noisily. A queer look passed across Hizdahr zo Loraq's long, pale face—part fear, part lust, part rapture. He licked his lips.

Will someone get Belwas some ginger ale?

I don't think she's projecting.

"Hot and sweet and poisoned. With mine own ears I heard you commanding the men in the pit to kill Drogon. Shouting at them."

Hizdahr licked his lips. "The beast devoured Barsena's flesh. Dragons prey on men. It was killing, burning …" - The Kingbreaker, ADWD

Hizdahr has suddenly transformed into a weirdo who fetishizes all violence.

+.+.+

Dany could see the Pahls streaming up the steps, clutching their tokars and tripping over the fringes in their haste to be away. Others followed. Some ran, shoving at one another. More stayed in their seats.

There goes SUSPECT #2: House Pahl. No other family mentioned.

Do I think the author is purposely misleading the reader? Yes.

+.+.+

One man took it on himself to be a hero.

He was one of the spearmen sent out to drive the boar back to his pen. Perhaps he was drunk, or mad. Perhaps he had loved Barsena Blackhair from afar or had heard some whisper of the girl Hazzea. Perhaps he was just some common man who wanted bards to sing of him. He darted forward, his boar spear in his hands. Red sand kicked up beneath his heels, and shouts rang out from the seats. Drogon raised his head, blood dripping from his teeth.

Say her name.

I know it's similar, but I don't believe the Jaime charging Drogon scene was real. It was too stupid.

+.+.+

The hero leapt onto his back and drove the iron spearpoint down at the base of the dragon's long scaled neck.

Dany and Drogon screamed as one.

Sansa couldn't help but smile a little. The kennelmaster once told her that an animal takes after its master. - Sansa I, AGOT

+.+.+

The hero leaned into his spear, using his weight to twist the point in deeper. Drogon arched upward with a hiss of pain. His tail lashed sideways. She watched his head crane around at the end of that long serpentine neck, saw his black wings unfold. The dragonslayer lost his footing and went tumbling to the sand. He was trying to struggle back to his feet when the dragon's teeth closed hard around his forearm. "No" was all the man had time to shout. Drogon wrenched his arm from his shoulder and tossed it aside as a dog might toss a rodent in a rat pit.

NOT A RAT PIT.

She called him a dragonslayer, I love it.

+.+.+

"Kill it," Hizdahr zo Loraq shouted to the other spearmen. "Kill the beast!"

Ser Barristan held her tightly. "Look away, Your Grace."

"Let me go!" Dany twisted from his grasp. The world seemed to slow as she cleared the parapet. When she landed in the pit she lost a sandal. Running, she could feel the sand between her toes, hot and rough. Ser Barristan was calling after her. Strong Belwas was still vomiting. She ran faster.

It's reverse Cinderella. Drizella lost her shoe while running towards her Prince Charming. Shoutout to @agentrouka-blog for the laugh!

All the Strong Belwas stuff happening in the background is so funny.

+.+.+

The hero was jerking on the sand, the bright blood pouring from the ragged stump of his shoulder. His spear remained in Drogon's back, wobbling as the dragon beat his wings. Smoke rose from the wound. As the other spears closed in, the dragon spat fire, bathing two men in black flame.

His flames are black? I didn't know that.

I'm not suggesting he's Black Flame from the Quaithe warning.

+.+.+

The Meereenese were screaming, cursing, howling. Dany could hear someone pounding after her. "Drogon," she screamed. "Drogon."

His head turned. Smoke rose between his teeth. His blood was smoking too, where it dripped upon the ground. He beat his wings again, sending up a choking storm of scarlet sand. Dany stumbled into the hot red cloud, coughing. He snapped.

"No" was all that she had time to say. No, not me, don't you know me? The black teeth closed inches from her face. He meant to tear my head off. The sand was in her eyes. She stumbled over the pitmaster's corpse and fell on her backside.

Lady would never.

+.+.+

Drogon roared. The sound filled the pit. A furnace wind engulfed her. The dragon's long scaled neck stretched toward her. When his mouth opened, she could see bits of broken bone and charred flesh between his black teeth. His eyes were molten. I am looking into hell, but I dare not look away. She had never been so certain of anything. If I run from him, he will burn me and devour me.

Ghost would never.

+.+.+

In Westeros the septons spoke of seven hells and seven heavens, but the Seven Kingdoms and their gods were far away. If she died here, Dany wondered, would the horse god of the Dothraki part the grass and claim her for his starry khalasar, so she might ride the nightlands beside her sun-and-stars? Or would the angry gods of Ghis send their harpies to seize her soul and drag her down to torment? Drogon roared full in her face, his breath hot enough to blister skin.

Of course she hopes for a Dothraki heaven.

+.+.+

Off to her right Dany heard Barristan Selmy shouting, "Me! Try me. Over here. Me!"

You have one job, demon.

+.+.+

In the smoldering red pits of Drogon's eyes, Dany saw her own reflection. How small she looked, how weak and frail and scared. I cannot let him see my fear. She scrabbled in the sand, pushing against the pitmaster's corpse, and her fingers brushed against the handle of his whip. Touching it made her feel braver. The leather was warm, alive. Drogon roared again, the sound so loud that she almost dropped the whip. His teeth snapped at her.

Summer would never.

The whip kills me every time.

+.+.+

Dany hit him. "No," she screamed, swinging the lash with all the strength that she had in her. The dragon jerked his head back. "No," she screamed again. "NO!" The barbs raked along his snout. Drogon rose, his wings covering her in shadow. Dany swung the lash at his scaled belly, back and forth until her arm began to ache. His long serpentine neck bent like an archer's bow. With a hisssssss, he spat black fire down at her. Dany darted underneath the flames, swinging the whip and shouting, "No, no, no. Get DOWN!" His answering roar was full of fear and fury, full of pain. His wings beat once, twice …

… and folded. The dragon gave one last hiss and stretched out flat upon his belly. Black blood was flowing from the wound where the spear had pierced him, smoking where it dripped onto the scorched sands. He is fire made flesh, she thought, and so am I.

I'm going to have to stop there, because Drogon's about as well trained as Nymeria.

+.+.+

Daenerys Targaryen vaulted onto the dragon's back, seized the spear, and ripped it out. The point was half-melted, the iron red-hot, glowing. She flung it aside. Drogon twisted under her, his muscles rippling as he gathered his strength. The air was thick with sand. Dany could not see, she could not breathe, she could not think. The black wings cracked like thunder, and suddenly the scarlet sands were falling away beneath her.

Thunder!

Why am I not getting a description of Barry's charred body? These god damn Targaryens and their dragons can't do anything right.

+.+.+

The lash was still in her hand. She flicked it against Drogon's neck and cried, "Higher!" Her other hand clutched at his scales, her fingers scrabbling for purchase. Drogon's wide black wings beat the air. Dany could feel the heat of him between her thighs. Her heart felt as if it were about to burst. Yes, she thought, yes, now, now, do it, do it, take me, take me, FLY!

Look, they're consummating the marriage.

This is so much funnier when you realize she removed clothing.

Final thoughts:

Don't you love how the show turned the Second Coming of Satan chapter into a scene where baby boy Drogon gets to heroically save his mommy from the evil ambushing Sons of the Harpy?

Great stuff, guys.

-> return to menu <-

[dtyfp2]

The Face That Launched A Thousand Ships

The Great War

Princess Helen was 5 and 10 when the remnants of House Reyne stole her right off the Kings road, killing a member of the Kingsguard and 5 other guards travelling with her.

She had been on her way to visit her grandfather at Casterly Rock, she had fallen asleep in her carriage and woken to the sound of swords being drawn and yelling. Luckily, she was not harmed in the initial capture.

When word got out she was taken, every great lord in the entirety of the seven kingdoms sent men to fight for her release, some without even being asked. Surprisingly, Dorne sent a solid third of its army, with Prince Doran claiming the princess had been nothing but pleasant when she had visited a few years ago, and that the stealing of little girls was cowardly. The North sent men, the Riverlands sent men, the Vale, the Westerlands, the Crownlands, the Reach, even the Ironborn. War ships were launched for the first time since Robert’s rebellion, they were launched enmasse, so much so that the royal recorders couldn’t even count them all. Never in the history of the Westeros had the 7 Kingdoms come together like they had for their Princess Helen.

Even Robert had come out from his castle, joining the army that grew outside Castamere’s walls. With all seven kingdoms united for the first time in its history, many were beginning to call them the “great army”.

“…They have my daughter!” Robert yells, his fist coming down on the table so hard that the men around feared the table had cracked. Robert grew tired of hearing the men bicker on how to best save the princess, he wanted his daughter safe and next to him as soon as possible.

“The Reyne’s should’ve been killed years ago, you should’ve killed then all,” Robert grits as he turns his head over to Tywin, who has called all his banners the moment he heard what had happened.

Tywin bites his tongue. The Reyne that took you was a bastard son of the last Lord, nobody knew he existed. Now, the bastard demands his birthright, along with some sell swords and bandits he’s somehow recruited to his cause.

“We cannot storm the doors, we cannot be certain they wouldn’t just kill the princess when they realize there’s no way out for them,” Lord Jon Arryn calms everyone as he brings the focus back to their plan.

“We cannot starve them out, the princess will surely be the first to perish,” Jon continues.

Ser Barristan stands guard in the tent. He has listened to these great nobles argue for hours, he has watched Robert’s anger flare. Behind his anger however, was only a father worried about his daughter. Ser Barristan worries too, like a father, he had wanted to escort you to Casterly Rock but he was needed at the Red Keep when a Dorne ambassador had come to treat with the King. The same ambassador later had returned to Dorne in record time when Princess Helen was taken, and he later returned with nearly 300 ships and 10,000 men. Ser Selmy regrets that he hadn’t gone, you would be safe if he had gone. He was starting to get antsy, standing around while his charge was in danger did not suit him.

No one in the tent said what they were all thinking, they couldn’t even be sure the princess was still alive. It had been nearly an entire moon cycle since she was taken. They were running out of time.

“My King,” Ser Barristan steps forward. All eyes turn to him.

“The Lord Hand is right, we cannot storm the castle and we cannot wait any longer. Allow me to infiltrate the castle, I will get in and bring the Princess home,” Ser Barristan suggests, volunteering himself for what seemed to be a suicide mission.

“We have no idea how many men they have inside,” Renly Baratheon crosses his arms as he glances over at Ser Selmy. Despite his age, he was still one of the greatest knights in Westeros.

“I know, my Lord,” Ser Selmy nods, his head held high.

“You’ve done the same for Aerys Targaryen once, haven’t you?” Stannis asks, never having completely trusted the Lord Commander.

“Yes, once,” Ser Selmy answers simply. Not even when Aerys was taken, did the realm come together like this. But they did for Helen.

Robert thinks it over.

“You want to go alone?” Robert asks.

“Less chance of getting caught, your grace. Less danger to the Princess,” Barristan answers.

Robert orders everyone to get out, leaving Ser Barristan alone with the King.

For the first time in a long time, Robert looks vulnerable. Barristan didn’t think Robert was a great king, not by a long shot, but he couldn’t ever say Robert did not love his children, his eldest especially.

“If you save Helen, I’d forever be in your debt.”

——————————————————————————

Barristan doesn’t wear his armour, he brings only his sword as he climbs over the wall.

He stays close to the wall, hiding in the shadows as he carefully ascends the staircase. He had already killed 3 men, guards who had gotten in his way.

Ser Barristan had never been inside the castle, but Tywin had offered a quick layout as he readied himself to enter. She was likely to be held near the center, to be watched from all sides.

Ser Barristan finds her tied up in the middle of, what seemed to be, the great dining hall. She seemed to be asleep, unharmed for the most part.

She was being guarded by one man, who Ser Barristan makes quick work of, slitting his throat from the behind. The muffled gasping and gurgling wakes the princess, whose mouth opens to scream before she recognizes Ser Barristan.

“Hush Princess, it’s only me. Are you hurt? Have they hurt you?” He asks as he kneels down before you, cutting the rope to free you as you stare at the bloody man in front of you. You struggle for words, unable to come up with anything until Ser Selmy forces you to look at him.

“Princess, did they hurt you?” He repeats. You shake your head as he ushers you up, glancing around as he pulls you.

“Stay close to me princess, I’m going to get you out of here,” he promises you. You keep hold of his shirt in one hand so you don’t lose him, hiding behind him at every shadow and turn. You don’t dare look back in fear your captors would be behind you.

“The Princess is escaping!”

You were spotted. Ser Barristan throws a knife, right through the head of the man who spotted you, but not before he could warn the others.

“Run princess,” Ser Barristan exclaims. He grabs your hand and takes off, not bothering to hide anymore as the yells and orders of Reyne men fill the castle. Barristan pushes you in front of him as they send arrows your way. You scream as one flies by your head. You hear Barristan grunt behind you. He had been hit, but he ran all the same. He swings his sword occasionally, cutting down any man that got in your way, but he stays with you.

You run so hard you can feel your lungs feel dry. Your heart aches for reprieved, but your legs continue loving. He leads you outside along the wall, where a rope was attached. You glance over the edge towards the ocean, the sea so packed with ships that you can barely see the water. Were they all here for you?

You’re stopped when a soldier blocks your path. You fear this is the end, for you cannot go forward nor backward. But just as he raises his sword and you shut your eyes, you can hear a screech and then screaming. When you open them, Balerion is on top of the man, plucking out his eyes as his long talons scrap down the side of your attackers face. You cover your mouth with your hand, half to quell the scream, half so you don’t puke at the sight in front of you.

“We must keep going princess,” Ser Barristan says as he grabs your arm, forcing you to step over the, now, dead man as you continue on.

“There are men down there, they’ll keep you safe. Go, I’ll hold them back,” Ser Barristan tells you as he shoves the rope into your hand. There isn’t even time to argue, you don’t even have time to beg him to go with you. He’s forced to raise his sword to fight off some Reyne men as you meagrely climb down. Balerion stays with him, from what you can hear, but you cannot see. As you get closer to the bottom, Ser Meryn Trant is quick to drag you away, despite the fact you kick and scream, wishing to wait for Barristan.

Back at camp, your father waits.

“Helen!”

“Father!” You weep openly, finally you can weep. You hadn’t allowed yourself to cry in the presence of your captors, you did not want to appear weak. You were a princess, you couldn’t be.

You jump into your father’s embrace, crying as he holds you, gently shushing you. He asks if they hurt you, and you can only shake your head.

“Oh, my darling princess, I was so worried,” your father sighs as he holds you. He brings you over to the Maester to be checked, and many high lords come to set eyes on you, though you worry for Ser Barristan. You worry so terribly you fear you may become sick.

Balerion finds you as Maester Pycelle gently wraps your wrist, which began to ache and pain after being tied up for so long. Your falcon sits beside you, bloody from his battles, daring anyone to come near you. To ease your own anxiety, you gently pet your falcon as you blink back tears.

It’s daybreak when Ser Barristan is brought. He has suffered worse than an arrow to the back, for he had been cut with swords. His face was bruised and bloody, but he was alive and standing, which was more than he could say for his opponents. Your grandfather obliterated the rest of the Reyne’s as you sat by Barristan’s side.

After the Maesters, and Ser Barristan, assures you that he will be alright, you allow yourself to be taken by some ladies to be washed and cleaned. You make it your personal mission to thank the men that have come all this way, even drafting letters for them to take back to their liege Lords. You find the Dornish ambassador and thank him profusely, and he promises to deliver your letter to Prince Doran as he departs back to Dorne.

“…have all these men come for me?” You ask your father as you look out onto the bay, so filled to the brim with ships you wondered how they may all leave.

“You are their Princess, they should come whenever you need aid,” your father answers as he places his hand on your shoulder.

“There must be a thousand ships, father,” you think out loud.

It is after the men see you, face sunken with past fear-though it somehow makes your beauty more pronounced- that they begin to call you, “the face that launched a thousand ships.”

[nynaeve-mashiara]

“I have longed all these years, for Rhaenys, the sister I lost in the Sack of Kings Landing. Can you imagine my delight when I learnt I had yet another sister, who had been hidden in plain sight for twenty years?” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “Rule by my side, be my Hand, help me mend the Seven Kingdoms and usher in a golden age of Targaryen rule.”

“I wish I could believe you true. I wish my brother had survived the Sack of King’s Landing. I wish it was only Rhaenys’s blood, dripping off of Tywin Lannister’s hands. That my children had more than one uncle by blood.” She said, her voice thick with unshed tears. “Yet I have Dreamt, and had Seeings, and been warned by ancestors as varied as Bloodraven, Visenya the Conqueror, Daenys the Dreamer, Queen Helaena, Aegon the Conqueror, and Uncle Aemon at the Wall, of a black dragon painted red, covered in a cloth of gold. The Golden Company, howevermuch it is a sellsword company, working for coin, would never aid a Targaryen in reclaiming the Iron Throne. All their commander generals and most of their other officers have been Blackfyre loyalists, or their descendants.”

The wolf bared its teeth. The red and the yellow dragons swooped lower.

“I am here simply to request that you leave, and to reclaim my family’s ancestral sword. I will let you leave unharmed, if you so do.”

“What would it take to convince you, sister?” Aegon choked out.

“You cannot. I am sorry you have been raised in a lie, but my brother is dead. Blackfyre, if you please.” She said, holding out her hand.

“You dare dismiss your king?” Jon demanded.

“I am the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, Prince Rhaegar’s only surviving child. Did you think anyone with a shred of knowledge of history would believe you? Both of my grandfathers fought in the war of the Ninepenny Kings. Ser Barristan Selmy killed the last male-line Blackfyre pretender, the captain general of the Golden Company. It was that deed that got him elevated to the Kingsguard. If you wanted him to have as much as a shred of credibility, you should have picked any other sellsword company. Better yet, you should have handed him off to grandmama eighteen years ago.” she said, resting her left hand on the dirk at her hip and beckoning with the right she still had extended towards Aegon. “Telling Queen Rhaella is the only way anyone would have believed you, believed him true. Yet she never would have. Face it, Jon, you spent five years in the Golden Company under captain general Ser Myles Toyne. The original agreement must have been with him. There is no way a Toyne would work towards a Targaryen restoration; it is as likely as having Stannis Baratheon crown me tomorrow.”

“You dare, you, the cause of the entire War of the Usurper.” Jon bit out.

“I think you will find, Jon Connington, that the trigger of what would be known as Robert’s Rebellion, the War of the Usurper, was murder.” She said, cocking a brow. “Mother and father eloped, true. Mother out of love, or a wish for independence, or to be rid of a betrothed she did not want. Father out of the belief that Lyanna Stark’s steel, her wolf blood, her ice, the magic in the Stark bloodline, unbroken since Brandon the Builder raised the Wall eight thousand years ago, would produce a warrior princess worthy of the name Visenya. Worthy of being the third head of the dragon. Worthy of carrying a prophecy he did not fully understand. Yet war could have been avoided, had not Aerys Targaryen burned Brandon Stark alive in his own armour with wildfire, and demanded Rickard, Eddard, and Benjen Stark, and Robert Baratheon travel to King’s Landing to suffer the same fate. For the crime of wanting Lyanna Stark returned, whom they believed to be abducted.”

“Aerys was the king!”

“Aerys was mad!” she bit out. “Hand over Blackfyre, and I will allow you to leave.”

“And if we refuse?” Jon scoffed.

The white dragon raised its head high, looking behind them towards the assembled ranks of the Golden Company.

“Then, Jon, I will simply recreate the Field of Fire. The only parts of Westeros not loyal to me is Joffrey Hill and his sycophants in King’s Landing, the Westerlands, and the Iron Islands. Cousin Renly has decided to lay aside his claim, to keep his position as Master of Laws on the Small Council, and wedding Aunt Daenerys.” She said, taking a step closer to grip the hilt of Blackfyre.

He gripped her wrist to wrench her hand away, but froze as an arrow flew just an inch past his head.

“Those arrows are poisoned, Blackfyre. I might be a Targaryen, the Blood of Old Valyria, but I am also a Stark, the blood of Winterfell, a daughter of the North. I was raised by Rickard Stark as his heir, the future Stark, Lady Paramount, Warden of the North. I am loved, honoured, respected there. The Crannogmen of the Neck do not allow me to walk anywhere unguarded.”

With that, she drew Blackfyre out of the scabbard at his waist, and turned to return to her dragon. Her wolf followed her, and Ser Arthur Dayne, her sworn shield, her protector, walked backwards so he still had them in his sight.

[asongofstarkandtargaryen]

For the character ask game: Mat Cauthon (WOT) and Dany (Asoiaf)

MAT CAUTHON:

one aspect about them i love: Mat pretending that he doesn't care about anyone or anything but in reality he cares so much that he's constantly risking his life to save others.

Like Rand said about him "It was about a hero who insisted with every breath that he was anything but a hero"

one aspect i wish more people understood about them: He's such an ureliable narrator. He usually says one thing and he actually means the opposite. So I wish people took his words with a grain of salt.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have about this character: It's not mine (I saw it here on tumblr and I 100% support it) but I love thinking that Mat will lead a rebellion on Seanchan.

one character i love seeing them interact with: I love all his interactions with Rand. Also, when he's around Thom.

one character i wish they would interact with/interact with more: I recently finished re reading A crown of Swords and I really enjoyed his interactions with Nynaeve and Elayne. Wish we had seen more of that. Actually, since I'm preparing for season 2, I'll also add Egwene to the mix and I hope the show give us more scenes of Mat interacting with the wondergirls. Both parties will be probably irritated but I'll enjoy it.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have that involve them and one other character: Remember when Rand and Mat confessed their love for each other? And Mat became part of the Rand's polycule and Min, Aviendha and Elayne are totally fine with that bc now they have another person to share their worries about Rand? What do you mean it's not canon, in my mind it is.

DAENERYS TARGARYEN:

one aspect about them i love: Dany tries so hard to be a good and just ruler for her people. She is willing to sacrifice her personal happiness (her wedding in ADWD) for their sake. She's rightfully called "mhysa" because like a mother she cares more about her children's (her people) wellbeing than her own.

one aspect i wish more people understood about them: Dany really feels lonely. And she wants to find the remaining heads of the dragon that will help her to quest. She wants to share her burdens and I do hope that by the end of the series she will find the other two dragonriders that will have her back.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have about this character: One day she will have a house with a red door and she will visit it when she wants to get away from her everyday ruling troubles.

one character i love seeing them interact with: I love her interactions with ser grandfather aka Ser Barristan Selmy.

one character i wish they would interact with/interact with more: I can't wait for her to go to Westeros and interact with Jon, Tyrion, Arya, Bran, Jaime and the rest of westerosi characters.

one (or more) headcanon(s) i have that involve them and one other character: Dany and Arya becoming besties because this book series lacks important female friendships.

thank you for the ask!

[viiisenyas]

What's the deal with your hotd oc? I'm extremely curious.

Hi! She's not in the timeline of HotD, although it is extremely tempting to write, ngl >_>

So, first off, i made a family tree that is presently a WIP and a complete mess because of the freaking inbreeding

Okay so I've been avoiding this for about two weeks, admittedly haha, so excuse this messy background of her birth and family.

Elaena Velaryon was born to Belandra Martell, younger sister of Princess Elia and Prince Doran during the Sack of King's Landing in 283 AC. Belandra had been visiting King's Landing with her son, and was unfortunately taken hostage alongside her sister when Aerys II Targaryen declared war. Belandra went into labour just before the gates were opened to the Lannister army, and Elia instructed a Kingsguard (who shall intentionally remain nameless until I publish my thing) who was guarding her to get her sister and nephew to safety. (And this is where I defy canon and slot in an eighth member of the KG because FUCK Rhaegar for leaving his wife and children without at least ONE guy for protection.) The knight brought them to the Black cells with the hope that they would not be discovered, and returned to Elia far too late.

While Elaena's grandfather, Lucerys, and her father, Monford, had barely arrived at the Mud Gate from Dragonstone to assist against the siege, Belandra died in childbirth while Elia and her children were brutalised by Gregor Clegane.

Belandra's eight-year-old son, Monterys waited in the dark dungeon for over a day with his newborn sister for the knight to return.

But to Monterys' shock, the man arrived with two soldiers: Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, and Jon Arryn of the Vale. Upon seeing Belandra's corpse and the two children, both Ned and Jon had took them to the throne room to reunite them with their father.

However, upon their arrival, Lucerys refused to swear fealty to Robert Baratheon, and chose death over the Wall. The man was beheaded in front of his son and grandchildren. When he saw his children in the custody of his enemies, Monford chose to submit, despite having a stronger claim to the Iron Throne than the usurper by blood right.

When the lives of his children were spared upon his abdication, Monford was also shown mercy, and was allowed to maintain his father's position at court as the Master of Ships. But as the years passed, his resentment for the Houses of Baratheon and Lannister grew, and his plots to overthrow Robert began to take form.

While feigning complete loyalty to the crown, Monford maintained his wealth and status at court, forging a strong alliance with Varys, The Lords of the Narrow Sea, and with Dorne after the news of the survival of the Targaryen siblings arrived. But it was never his intention to simply wait for Viserys or Daenerys. Instead, he planned to put himself, and therefore his own children ahead of them in the line of succession.

Unfortunately, the actions of his son, Monterys would slightly thwart his plans as he would eventually become a Kingsguard alongside Ser Barristan Selmy, which meant that Elaena would be his only successor if he were victorious in his conquest.

OKAY MOVING ON lol

Throughout Elaena's childhood, most of her years were spent in Driftmark or Dorne when she wasn't accompanying her father at court on a rare few occasions, unlike her brother who was squired to Ser Barristan. But over the years, she was trained in combat by her household master-at-arms, Ser Rickon Sunglass and her uncle, Oberyn. Despite her skill in combat, she is soft-spoken, reclusive, and observant. Elaena has an outwardly friendly albeit awkward nature, however, she has also grown to resent the Lannisters and the Baratheons as well as her late uncle (and second cousin haha) Rhaegar. But unlike her older brother, Elaena keeps her disdain for her family's enemies hidden behind polite smiles, and kind gestures.

Now here's where it gets interesting: she is also a dragon dreamer and often has visions of the past and present, and she can sometimes see them through fire. (only in one fic though, I didn't want to make her too op)

[vivacissimx]

Daenerys & Ser Grandfather: found family in Barristan Selmy

for daenerys month day 16: familial relationships

"Who is it that I owe my life to?"

"You owe me nothing, Your Grace."

-ACOK, Daenerys V

COMFORT IN SHARED LANGUAGE

"We were, Your Grace," old Whitebeard replied. "The Magister begs your kind indulgence for sending us in his stead, but he cannot sit a horse as he did in his youth, and sea travel upsets his digestion." Earlier he had spoken in the Valyrian of the Free Cities, but now he changed to the Common Tongue. "I regret if we caused you alarm. If truth be told, we were not certain, we expected someone more . . . more . . ."

"Regal?" Dany laughed. She had no dragon with her, and her raiment was hardly queenly.

-ACOK, Daenerys V

"Sheep are obedient," said Arstan when the words had been translated. He had some Valyrian as well, though not so much as Dany, but like her he was feigning ignorance.

-ASOS, Daenerys II

BEDTIME STORIES

The hours crept by on turtle feet. Even after Jhiqui rubbed the knots from her shoulders, Dany was too restless for sleep. Missandei offered to sing her a lullaby of the Peaceful People, but Dany shook her head. "Bring me Arstan," she said.

When the old man came, she was curled up inside her hrakkar pelt, whose musty smell still reminded her of Drogo. "I cannot sleep when men are dying for me, Whitebeard," she said. "Tell me more of my brother Rhaegar, if you would. I liked the tale you told me on the ship, of how he decided that he must be a warrior."

-ASOS, Daenerys IV

KEEPER OF THE FAMILY LEGACY

She turned to Ser Barristan. "You protected my father for many years, fought beside my brother on the Trident, but you abandoned Viserys in his exile and bent your knee to the Usurper instead. Why? And tell it true."

"Some truths are hard to hear. [...] forgive me, my queen, but you asked for truth . . . even as a child, your brother Viserys oft seemed to be his father's son, in ways that Rhaegar never did."

-

Jaehaerys. This old man knew my grandfather. The thought gave her pause. Most of what she knew of Westeros had come from her brother, and the rest from Ser Jorah. Ser Barristan would have forgotten more than the two of them had ever known. This man can tell me what I came from.

-

The old man hesitated. "A knight of the Kingsguard is in the king's presence day and night. For that reason, our vows require us to protect his secrets as we would his life. But your father's secrets by rights belong to you now, along with his throne, and . . . I thought perhaps you might have questions for me."

-ASOS, Daenerys VI

"If I send the Brazen Beasts into the pyramids, it will mean open war inside the city. I have to trust in Hizdahr. I have to hope for peace." Dany held the parchment above a candle and watched the names go up in flame, while Skahaz glowered at her.

Afterward, Ser Barristan told her that her brother Rhaegar would have been proud of her.

-ADWD, Daenerys V

Of Daenerys Targaryen, no trace had been found. Some swore they saw her fall. Others insisted that the dragon had carried her off to devour her. They are wrong.

Ser Barristan knew no more of dragons than the tales every child hears, but he knew Targaryens. Daenerys had been riding that dragon, as Aegon had once ridden Balerion of old.

"She might be flying home," he told himself, aloud.

-

Barristan Selmy had known many kings. He had been born during the troubled reign of Aegon the Unlikely, beloved by the common folk, had received his knighthood at his hands. Aegon's son Jaehaerys had bestowed the white cloak on him when he was three-and-twenty, after he slew Maelys the Monstrous during the War of the Ninepenny Kings. In that same cloak he had stood beside the Iron Throne as madness consumed Jaehaerys's son Aerys. Stood, and saw, and heard, and yet did nothing.

But no. That was not fair. He did his duty. Some nights, Ser Barristan wondered if he had not done that duty too well. He had sworn his vows before the eyes of gods and men, he could not in honor go against them … but the keeping of those vows had grown hard in the last years of King Aerys's reign. He had seen things that it pained him to recall, and more than once he wondered how much of the blood was on his own hands. If he had not gone into Duskendale to rescue Aerys from Lord Darklyn's dungeons, the king might well have died there as Tywin Lannister sacked the town. Then Prince Rhaegar would have ascended the Iron Throne, mayhaps to heal the realm. Duskendale had been his finest hour, yet the memory tasted bitter on his tongue.

-ADWD, The Queensguard

PROTECTIVENESS

"Your Grace," said Ser Barristan Selmy, the lord commander of her Queensguard, "there is no need for you to see this."

-ADWD, Daenerys I

Ser Barristan watched with ill-concealed apprehension. "You should not linger here overlong, Your Grace. The Astapori are being fed, as you commanded. There's no more we can do for the poor wretches. We should repair back to the city."

-ADWD, Daenerys VI

My brave captain. Even so, of late he grew too bold. On the day that he returned from his latest sortie, he had tossed the head of a Yunkish lord at her feet and kissed her in the hall for all the world to see, until Barristan Selmy pulled the two of them apart. Ser Grandfather had been so wroth that Dany feared blood might be shed.

-ADWD, Daenerys VIII

Drogon roared full in her face, his breath hot enough to blister skin. Off to her right Dany heard Barristan Selmy shouting, "Me! Try me. Over here. Me!"

-ADWD, Daenerys IX

TELLING JOKES

"Ser Barristan," she called, "I know what quality a king needs most."

"Courage, Your Grace?"

"Cheeks like iron," she teased. "All I do is sit."

-ADWD, Daenerys I

She turned her back upon the night, to where Barristan Selmy stood silent in the shadows. "My brother once told me a Westerosi riddle. Who listens to everything yet hears nothing?"

"A knight of the Kingsguard." Selmy's voice was solemn.

-ADWD, Daenerys III

UNSEEN GESTURES OF AFFECTION

Dany climbed into her litter frowning, and beckoned Arstan to climb in beside her. A man as old as him should not be walking in such heat.

-ASOS, Daenerys II

The servants' steps were the quickest way down—not grand, but steep and straight and narrow, hidden in the walls. Ser Barristan brought a lantern, lest she fall.

-ADWD, Daenerys II

The old knight took pains not to look at her bare breast as he spoke to her.

-ADWD, Daenerys III

That made her laugh. "How fare your orphans, ser?"

The old knight smiled. "Well, Your Grace. It is good of you to ask." The boys were his pride. "Four or five have the makings of knights. Perhaps as many as a dozen."

-ADWD, Daenerys V

Daenerys would need protectors her own age about her after he was gone, and Ser Barristan was determined to give her such.

-

Daenerys Targaryen had preferred to hold court from a bench of polished ebony, smooth and simple, covered with the cushions that Ser Barristan had found to make her more comfortable.

-

Clean as he had ever been, he rose, dried himself, and clad himself in whites. Stockings, smallclothes, silken tunic, padded jerkin, all fresh-washed and bleached. Over that he donned the armor that the queen had given him as a token of her esteem. The mail was gilded, finely wrought, the links as supple as good leather, the plate enameled, hard as ice and bright as new-fallen snow.

-ADWD, The Queensguard

[amethystmpress]

DAENERYS APPRECIATION MONTH 2021: ↳ Day 29: Men in Daenerys's Life (Ser Grandfather)

On the day that he returned from his latest sortie, [Daario] had tossed the head of a Yunkish lord at her feet and kissed her in the hall for all the world to see, until Barristan Selmy pulled the two of them apart. Ser Grandfather had been so wroth that Dany feared blood might be shed.

[kellyvela]

"On the day that he returned from his latest sortie, he had tossed the head of a Yunkish lord at her feet and kissed her in the hall for all the world to see." Seems like Dany also like severed heads as token of love.

OMG he keeps giving her severed heads!!! And proclaiming his love for her that way!!!

"Marry me, and we can have all the nights forever."

If I could, I would. Khal Drogo had been her sun-and-stars, but he had been dead so long that Daenerys had almost forgotten how it felt to love and be loved. Daario had helped her to remember. I was dead and he brought me back to life. I was asleep and he woke me. My brave captain. Even so, of late he grew too bold. On the day that he returned from his latest sortie, he had tossed the head of a Yunkish lord at her feet and kissed her in the hall for all the world to see, until Barristan Selmy pulled the two of them apart. Ser Grandfather had been so wroth that Dany feared blood might be shed. "We cannot wed, my love. You know why."

He climbed from her bed. "Marry Hizdahr, then. I will give him a nice set of horns for his wedding gift. Ghiscari men like to prance about in horns. They make them from their own hair, with combs and wax and irons." Daario found his breeches and pulled them on. He did not trouble himself with smallclothes.

—A Dance with Dragons - Daenerys VII

And this is what the other Anon was talking about the other day!!!

Head chopping is a love language, indeed!!!

Thanks for your message :)

[hosts-of-valyria]

"Welcome to House Raven-Targaryen of Cintra with our bourgeois names, call us the company and you are allowed to look over the shoulder of the company at work."

Ciri smiled, "Commander Hightower, Ser Dayne, what a surprise to see you here in Cintra. My grandfather Eist Tuirseach would love this sight. My grandmother Calanthe would adore it", and Cintra soldiers, Jon and Ghost came into the room, "what a surprise. That's awesome."

"Geralt and Yennefer are in Essos right now and we want to stand by Cintra. Yennefer, Elia, Geralt, Rhaegar and Lyanna sent us, we would always stand with you two", said Gerold and Arthur and Jon, Ciri and Cintra Soldiers smiled and nodded. Ciri smiled broadly, "I like you two the most. Give the two knights their lodgings, supplies, money and clothes. Tomorrow there is a meeting here in Cintra of the northern kingdoms you should attend Sers", the soldiers smiled and nodded.

"We all swear vows."

Ciri, Jon and Ghost walked through a trellis of swords, "rise for Queen Calanthe's granddaughter and Lyanna Stark's son", said a Redania bannerman and the people stood up and applauded loudly.

Cintra Bannermen put the Cintra armor on Ciri, "for Calanthe's granddaughter and Rhaegar Targaryen's son, for the freedom and equality of the northern Kingdoms Cintra, Aedirn, Temeria, Kaedwen and Redania, to war."

Ciri and the bannermen put the Cintra armor on Jon, "welcome to the banners of Queen Calanthe and Crown Princess Pavetta of House Raven of Cintra. Welcome to the northern banners of Cintra, Aedirn, Temeria, Redania and Kaedwen.

WAR! War has been declared on us. Welcome to the northern war against Nilfgaard. Welcome to the war against House Baratheon and Lannister.

From Skellige to Kaedwen the call resounds once a General of the armies of the northern Kingdom to Cintra, always a General this is your oath general. You swear that oath on the uniform of the northern kingdoms", and the people of the northern Kingdoms applauded loudly, an Ciri kissed him, "The two of us will be the last standing, we two will make it to the end together when we stay together Jon. No one can survive as long as the two of us when we stay together. We two Together stand longer than anyone else.

They have found their General, you gave them strength in times of darkness, these are free women and men who follow you in armies and would die for you. They cheer you, this is where you belong. The voice says this is where you belong Jon. And I've never been happier than I am right now here we are when we first met in Kaer Morhen, stay with me talk to me and we will find solutions for everything. Strangers cheer you. They are waiting for our orders. Remember one thing Jon, you're not Tywin or Jaime Lannister, Robert Baratheon, Emhyr, Robb Stark, Eddard Stark or Stannis Baratheon; I want to see the man I fell in love with in Kaer Morhen who wants to change cruel worlds the world the two of us, Yennefer, Geralt, Lyanna, Elia, Daenerys, Rhaenys, Aegon, Aerys, Rhaella, Viserys, Tissaia, Gerold Hightower, Arthur Dayne, Barristan Selmy, Daario, Jorah Mormont, Rhaegar, Oberyn, Doran, Ashara, Triss and many others build.

Gather the Council, we have much to do and much to discuss now things must finally move forward, these worlds must be changed and in four weeks we must go to Harrenhal", and Jon smiled, kissed Ciri and nodded, "i love you, stay with me Ciri. Yes I belong to Cintra", and Jon drew Longclaw, "I demand that Cintra, Aedirn, Temeria, Redania and Kaedwen stand together", and over 1,000,000 soldiers, women and men drew arms and cheered, Arthur Dayne and Gerold Hightower drew their swords and smiled at each other, Ghost howled and Ciri smiled and drew Zireael.

And in heaven, Pavetta, Eist and Calanthe cheered loudly for Ciri and Jon, "so good."

Call to the banners: The banner of the northern Kingdoms of Cintra, Temeria, Kaedwen, Redania and Aedirn. Ciri and Jon bring bannermen from the Northern Kingdoms to Westeros for the first time.

Ciri and Jon create House Raven-Targaryen of Cintra: Alliance expansion, Defense Pact of Harrenhal: Cintra, Aedirn, Temeria, Redania, Temeria, Dorne and the Crownlands join forces and form the most powerful axis ever. House Tyrell joins the alliance expansion first

"Harrenhal. A ruin today when Aegon the Conqueror brought Firestorms. The fortress is currently being rebuilt", Ciri, Jon, Ghost, banners of the northern Kingdoms of Cintra, Aedirn, Temeria, Kaedwen and Redania rode over a mountain towards Harrenhal. The people looked at the foreign banners and heavy soldiers with grace and wide eyes. Lyanna, Elia and Yennefer received them, "you two look great, you are so successful in life", Ciri and Jon smiled, "thanks. We have alliances to discuss Cintra, Aedirn, Temeria, Kaedwen, Redania want you to join Dorne and the Crownlands. Jon and I created House Raven-Targaryen of Cintra", Ciri linked arms with Yennefer and Lyanna and Jon linked arms with Elia and Lyanna. Yennefer, Lyanna and Elia smiled and nodded, "that's good."

The Riverlands call to a council. Council in Harrenhal. Seperate camps. The Ghost of Harrenhal

Yennefer of Vengerberg, Tissaia de Vries, Gerold Hightower, Rhaegar Targaryen, Lyanna Stark, Elia Martell, Jon Targaryen, Ciri Vengerberg-Targaryen and Arthur Dayne are coming to the Council in Harrenhal for Dorne and the Crownlands, the most powerful Alliance. The smartest and the most powerful

The dream Couple

"The Late Lord Frey, you are late for the Council", said Hoster Tully.

"Academic quarter hour Lord Tully add a quarter of an hour to the given time Motherfucker", screamed Walder Frey and everyone laughed aloud over Hoster Tully, Ciri, Lyanna, Elia, Jon, Rhaenys, Daenerys, Daario, Yennefer, Rhaegar and Geralt laughed aloud over Eddard, Robert Baratheon, Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully, "assholes", Ciri laughed Eddard right in the face, "do you have a Problem hypocrite."

"They all laugh at me. Martells, Tyrells, Greyjoys, Targaryens, Lannisters", said Eddard and took wine, Walder Frey passed him, "now you know what it's like to be laughed at hypocritical motherfucker. The kingdoms have independence and the Iron Throne is destroyed and you were a damn bad king in the north. If I were you, Hoster Tully, Jon Arryn and Robert Baratheon, I'd be damn careful who I mess with, the Crownlands and Dorne forces are over 100,000 troops. You lost a sister and a child a long time ago. Careful Lord Stark of Jon and his fiancée and her parents, they are in the alliance also with over 100,000 soldiers. They also laugh at you, Jon Arryn, Hoster Tully and Robert Baratheon in Ciri's world those heavy soldiers you see there are laughing at you Lord Stark. You don't want to feel the wrath of Pavetta's granddaughter", said Walder Frey and the Frey bannermen laughing, and Walder Frey pointed to the Cintra soldiers who were laughing loudly at Eddard and they laughed aloud over Eddard and went away and Eddard, Hoster Tully and Jon Arryn didn't say a word, "damn it."

Joffrey looked jealously at Ciri and Jon holding hands, "I would be better suited for her. I can dance better than him, she would eat out of my hand. I'm the perfect prince."

Myrcella and Trystane leaned toward Joffrey, "you know nothing you little wanker. Ciri would mop the floor with you wimp. Ciri would mop the floor with you, Robb or Willas. Ciri would play basketball with your head. Jon could rip your stupid head off. Ciri is far smarter than Sansa could ever be. Jon could rip Willas Tyrell to pieces. Ciri and Jon want nothing to do with you Joffrey. Be careful with who you want to compete with who are much more than you ever could be, the two could kill you if they wanted to. You're trying to fuck a pussy much more powerful than you wimp!

Jon is a thousand times smarter, stronger and mightier than you, Robb, Theon and everyone else could ever be and Ciri is too powerful, strong and smart for you stupid asshole. You are ugly, shit and stupid Joff. The two are the lost prince and the lost princess. You have no idea about the two, so much more than highborn. You have no idea about her home. You're a stupid asshole", Joffrey didn't say a word and went away and cried like a stupid child. Myrcella and Trystane laughed aloud over Joffrey.

Myrcella and Trystane hugged Jon and Ciri, "you two look great. The lion cub of Cintra and the Son of Fire and Ice."

Ciri and Jon smiled, "the lion cub of Casterly Rock and the Son of the Sun. You two look great as well", said Ciri and Jon.

"There is a pirate crisis in Dorne, we, Oberyn, Ellaria, Ashara, Rhaenys, Aegon, Doran need some help from you two", said Myrcella and Trystane. Jon and Ciri nodded, "we're coming to Dorne."

Holding hands, Ciri and Jon walked across the room with some Cintra soldiers, Ghost and wine to a table. Baratheon, Lannister, Stark, Arryn and Tyrell bannermen glared at Ciri and Jon.

"The Cintra Armor looks great on you two", said the bannermen of Cintra. Ciri kissed Jon on the cheek, "calm down honey, you're not alone Jon, you sweat, I'm with you, Yennefer, Lyanna, Elia, Rhaegar, Tissaia, Arthur, Gerold and Geralt are with us, the Cintra soldiers are with us. Whenever I squeeze your hand, the dance figure comes, I'm leading", Jon smiled and nodded, "thanks."

Lyanna, Elia, Rhaegar, Yennefer, Geralt, Tissaia, Gerold Hightower and Arthur Dayne smiled as Jon and Ciri danced.

Tissaia looked at Catelyn and Sansa across the room and rolled her eyes, "Bugger me what a shit. This world is dog shit just like mine", and she walked away with Lyanna, Elia, Rhaegar, Arthur, Gerold, Geralt and Yennefer.

The Banners of Cintra, the Bannermen of Queen Calanthe, sworn to House Raven, Calanthe the Lioness, Princess Pavetta and Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon

Ciri and Jon bring bannermen from Cintra, Temeria and Aedirn for the first time to Westeros. Pact of Harrenhal: Aedirn, Cintra, Temeria, Dorne and the Crownlands join forces. Concluded alliance for military cooperation. Defense treaty

House Tyrell and the Reach join the alliance. The Crownlands, Dorne, the Reach, Cintra, Temeria, Aedirn close in on Nilfgaard and isolate Nilfgaard to all sides.

Rebellion in Nilfgaard against Emhyr var Emreis. Emhyr var Emreis restores sovereignty and independence to the conquered kingdoms, is limited to the city of Nilfgaard and makes peace with the northern kingdoms.

House Martell, Tyrell and Targaryen station 20,000 Soldiers in the Northern Kingdoms. Cintra, Aedirn and Temeria station 15,000 Soldiers in the Crownlands, the Reach and Dorne. The election for Ciri and Jon as generals. Ciri and Jon take command of the armies. Ciri, Jon and Cintran armies isolate the Stormlands to all sides.

Rebellion in the Stormlands, Selwyn Tarth, Balon Swann rebel against Robert Baratheon as the Storm King.

Jon Arryn, Eddard Stark and Hoster Tully refuse to stand by Robert Baratheon any longer and break off the alliance with him.

Tywin Lannister stays at Casterly Rock. Robert Baratheon attacks Selwyn Tarth and Balon Swann. Death for Robert Baratheon through Baratheon soldiers and bannermen. Shireen Baratheon becomes Storm Queen.

Arthur Dayne, Lyanna, Elia, Rhaegar, Gerold Hightower and Barristan Selmy were fascinated by the soldiers and shook hands with them, "oh that's awesome."

"Cintra, Aedirn, Dorne, the Crownlands need to move closer together. We have a few deals and alliances that we want to discuss with you", said the Soldiers. Yennefer, Arthur Dayne, Barristan Selmy, Gerold Hightower, Ciri, Jon, Rhaegar, Lyanna, Elia, Tissaia and Geralt nodded, "we have some ideas, deals, contracts, alliances to get closer."

Ashara Dayne, Alliser Thorne, Willem Darry, Lewyn Martell, Oswell Whent, Ellaria Sand and Oberyn Martell shook hands with Jon, Ciri and the Cintra soldiers and they stroked Ghost and gave him something to eat, "hi you three. The dream couple is here. You're a good boy", Ciri, Jon and the Cintra soldiers smiled, "he is."

"The wine is awesome Elia", said Geralt, Lyanna, Rhaegar, Jon, Arthur, Gerold, Tissaia, Ciri and Yennefer. Elia smiled, "thanks", and Yennefer put her wine on a table and leaned towards Lyanna, Geralt, Elia, Arthur, Rhaegar, Jon and Ciri, "geez they are most similar to a septa", Lyanna and Elia nodded, "because Littlefinger is horny for the pussy of mum and daughter, because the little fish made out with Littlefucker with tongue and wet", said Lyanna, Gerold, Arthur, Elia, Jon and Rhaegar. Yennefer eyed Baelish, Sansa and Catelyn.

Most similar to a Septa

Yennefer of Vengerberg explains power

Yennefer's power, political stability and wisdom. Yennefer sees the power vacuum like Lyanna and Elia: "when you are too stupid, a power imbalance brings extreme damage."

Yennefer sipped her wine and looked at Baelish and Catelyn through the room. Baelish looked at Catelyn as she walked over to Olenna Tyrell with Sansa.

Yennefer, Geralt, Tissaia and Ciri looked at each other and they almost laughed, "that would be new to us, unfortunately no, chaos is not a ladder, that's wrong. A power imbalance brings extreme damage. Someone didn't pay attention to how power works, because power doesn't give everything. That's where the wind comes from. It smells like rotten fish here. He's keen on two smelly fish. Somebody can't get over a little fish", Ciri and Geralt looked across the room at Catelyn and Sansa and stifled a laugh, "two fish for the price of one. Grab it now before algae strike", said Geralt.

Ciri eyed Sansa and Catelyn who went to Eddard, Robb, Jon Arryn, Hoster Tully and Robert Baratheon.

Ciri looked at Sansa at Catelyn's side, at Joffrey at Tywin and Cersei's side and at Harrold Hardyng at Jon Arryn's side.

Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon explains and shows how Chaos works.

"I think algae strike is between their legs long ago. Harrold Hardyng already has children and doesn't care, like Robert Baratheon. Joffrey's parents are siblings. Ramsey is a psychopath. Theon Greyjoy is an asshole. Boltons are enemies of Starks. Tyrells are Lannisters with roses. All these facts and political levels eliminate the chaos. It doesn't eliminate war. Therefore chaos is not a ladder. Chaos and war are different things", said Ciri.

Robert Baratheon calls Ciri the tyrant's brood as daughter of Emhyr var Emreis. Robert Baratheon calls Myrcella Lannister the result of incest.

Robert Baratheon walked past Jon and Jaime and rammed his fist into Jon's and Jaime's stomach, "Watch out dragonspawn. Watch out Lannister. I kill the tyrant's brood and your smelly whore daughter who sucks dornish cocks, the result of incest."

Myrcella and Cersei stopped Jaime from attacking Robert, "no. Don't do it",

Geralt's fist hit Robert in the face and broke his nose, "do you have a problem, you fat pig? When I'm done with you no one can save you", Yennefer and Rhaegar stopped Geralt, "no Geralt."

Elia and Oberyn stopped Trystane, "let it be", the People in the room glared at Robert Baratheon.

Jon was raging inside and Jon's fist hit Robert in the face and broke his jaw and Ciri and Lyanna had trouble to stop him. Ciri, Lyanna and some Cintra soldiers stopped Jon, "Jon! No. That's what he wants. That's what Robert Baratheon wants."

Robert Baratheon puked alcohol on the floor. Arthur, Ciri, Tissaia, Gerold, Rhaegar, Geralt, Lyanna, Elia, Jon, and Yennefer and pointed to Robert drunk on the floor, "look at the usurper on the ground. He started rebellion and wars."

Eddard Stark, Jon Arryn and Hoster Tully knelt down next to Robert and patted his cheek, "Robert. Robert. What are you doing? Wake up! How drunk are you, damn it, this is not funny at all Robert", but Robert Baratheon fell asleep drunk in his own vomit like a pig.

Much stronger and smarter than Eddard Stark, Jon Arryn, Robert Baratheon and Hoster Tully

"Houston, we have a problem. Bring a crane to get rid of the fat bin", said Geralt and Jon.

Rhaegar, Gerold, Tissaia, Arthur, Lyanna, Elia, Ciri, Jon, Yennefer and Geralt laughed aloud.

Sansa and Catelyn walked angrily away from Robert, Eddard, Hoster Tully and Jon Arryn, and past Ciri, "yes definitely Algae strike", said Ciri. Geralt, Arthur, Tissaia, Gerold, Elia, Jon, Rhaegar, Ciri, Lyanna and Yennefer burst out laughing and gave each other high fives, "we are the strongest."

[aboveallarescuer]

All mentions of Dany in other POVs

This is a list with all mentions of Dany and/or her dragons and/or events involving Dany in other POVs.

A Dance with Dragons

ADWD Epilogue

“We have these tales coming from the east as well. A second Targaryen, and one whose blood no man can question. Daenerys Stormborn.”

“As mad as her father,” declared Lord Mace Tyrell.

That would be the same father that Highgarden and House Tyrell supported to the bitter end and well beyond. “Mad she may be,” Ser Kevan said, “but with so much smoke drifting west, surely there must be some fire burning in the east.”

Grand Maester Pycelle bobbed his head. “Dragons. These same stories have reached Oldtown. Too many to discount. A silver-haired queen with three dragons.”

“At the far end of the world,” said Mace Tyrell. “Queen of Slaver’s Bay, aye. She is welcome to it.”

“On that we can agree,” Ser Kevan said, “but the girl is of the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, and I do not think she will be content to remain in Meereen forever. If she should reach these shores and join her strength to Lord Connington and this prince of his, feigned or no … we must destroy Connington and his pretender now, before Daenerys Stormborn can come west.”

ADWD The Queen's Hand

He stood beside the parapets of the highest step of the Great Pyramid, searching the sky as he did every morning, knowing that the dawn must come and hoping that his queen would come with it. She will not have abandoned us, she would never leave her people, he was telling himself, when he heard the prince’s death rattle coming from the queen’s apartments.

~

At his command, Quentyn Martell had been laid out in the queen’s own bed. He had been a knight, and a prince of Dorne besides. It seemed only kind to let him die in the bed he had crossed half a world to reach. The bedding was ruined—sheets, covers, pillows, mattress, all reeked of blood and smoke, but Ser Barristan thought Daenerys would forgive him.

~

He should have stayed in Dorne. He should have stayed a frog. Not all men are meant to dance with dragons. As he covered the boy once more, he found himself wondering whether there would be anyone to cover his queen, or whether her own corpse would lie un-mourned amongst the tall grasses of the Dothraki sea, staring blindly at the sky until her flesh fell from her bones.

“No,” he said aloud. “Daenerys is not dead. She was riding that dragon. I saw it with mine own two eyes.” He had said the same a hundred times before … but every day that passed made it harder to believe. Her hair was afire. I saw that too. She was burning … and if I did not see her fall, hundreds swear they did.

~

“They await the Hand’s pleasure below.”

I am no Hand, a part of him wanted to cry out. I am only a simple knight, the queen’s protector. I never wanted this. But with the queen gone and the king in chains, someone had to rule, and Ser Barristan did not trust the Shavepate.

~

“The fighting pits will remain closed,” said Selmy. “Blood and noise would only serve to call the dragons.”

“All three, perhaps,” suggested Marselen. “The black beast came once, why not again? This time with our queen.”

Or without her. Should Drogon return to Meereen without Daenerys mounted on his back, the city would erupt in blood and flame, of that Ser Barristan had no doubt. The very men sitting at this table would soon be at dagger points with one another. A young girl she might be, but Daenerys Targaryen was the only thing that held them all together.

“Her Grace will return when she returns,” said Ser Barristan.

~

The hostages again. He would kill them every one if I allowed it. “I heard you the first hundred times. No.”

“Queen’s Hand,” Skahaz grumbled with disgust. “An old woman’s hand, I am thinking, wrinkled and feeble. I pray Daenerys returns to us soon.” He pulled his brazen wolf’s mask down over his face. “Your council will be growing restless.”

“They are the queen’s council, not mine.”

~

Though he had assumed the title of Hand, Ser Barristan would not presume to hold court in the queen’s absence, nor would he permit Skahaz mo Kandaq to do such. Hizdahr’s grotesque dragon thrones had been removed at Ser Barristan’s command, but he had not brought back the simple pillowed bench the queen had favored. Instead a large round table had been set up in the center of the hall, with tall chairs all around it where men might sit and talk as peers.

~

“You had best guard that tongue, ser.” Ser Barristan did not like this Gerris Drinkwater, nor would he allow him to vilify Daenerys. “Prince Quentyn’s death was his own doing, and yours.”

~

“He offered her his heart,” Ser Gerris said again. “She needed swords, not hearts.”

“He would have given her the spears of Dorne as well.”

“Would that he had.” No one had wanted Daenerys to look with favor on the Dornish prince more than Barristan Selmy.

~

“What he did he did for love of Queen Daenerys,” Gerris Drinkwater insisted. “To prove himself worthy of her hand.”

The old knight had heard enough. “What Prince Quentyn did he did for Dorne. Do you take me for some doting grandfather? I have spent my life around kings and queens and princes. Sunspear means to take up arms against the Iron Throne. No, do not trouble to deny it. Doran Mar-tell is not a man to call his spears without hope of victory. Duty brought Prince Quentyn here. Duty, honor, thirst for glory … never love. Quentyn was here for dragons, not Daenerys.”

~

The Dornishmen, Hizdahr, Reznak, the attack … was he doing the right things? Was he doing what Daenerys would have wanted? I was not made for this. Other Kingsguard had served as Hand before him. Not many, but a few. He had read of them in the White Book. Now he found himself wondering whether they had felt as lost and confused as he did.

~

Galazza Galare was attended by four Pink Graces. An aura of wisdom and dignity seemed to surround her that Ser Barristan could not help but admire. This is a strong woman, and she has been a faithful friend to Daenerys.

~

“Have there been any further tidings of our sweet queen?”

“None as yet.”

“I shall pray for her. And what of King Hizdahr, if I may be so bold? Might I be permitted to see His Radiance?”

“Soon, I hope. He is unharmed, I promise you.”

“I am pleased to hear that. The Wise Masters of Yunkai asked after him. You will not be surprised to hear that they wish the noble Hizdahr to be restored at once to his rightful place.”

“He shall be, if it can be proved that he did not try to kill our queen. Until such time, Meereen will be ruled by a council of the loyal and just. There is a place for you on that council. I know that you have much to teach us all, Your Benevolence. We need your wisdom.”

“I fear you flatter me with empty courtesies, Lord Hand,” the Green Grace said. “If you truly think me wise, heed me now. Release the noble Hizdahr and restore him to his throne.”

“Only the queen can do that.”

~

“I know these were not the words you wished to hear,” said Galazza Galare. “Yet for myself, I understand. These dragons are fell beasts. Yunkai fears them … and with good cause, you cannot deny. Our histories speak of the dragonlords of dread Valyria and the devastation that they wrought upon the peoples of Old Ghis. Even your own young queen, fair Daenerys who called herself the Mother of Dragons … we saw her burning, that day in the pit … even she was not safe from the dragon’s wroth.”

“Her Grace is not … she …”

“… is dead. May the gods grant her sweet sleep.” Tears glistened behind her veils. “Let her dragons die as well.”

ADWD The Dragontamer

“Is that rain? Your whores will be gone.”

“Not all of them. There are little snuggeries in the pleasure gardens, and they wait there every night until a man chooses them. Those who are not chosen must remain until the sun comes up, feeling lonely and neglected. We could console them.”

“They could console me, is what you mean.”

“That too.”

“That is not the sort of consolation I require.”

“I disagree. Daenerys Targaryen is not the only woman in the world. Do you want to die a man-maid?”

Quentyn did not want to die at all. I want to go back to Yronwood and kiss both of your sisters, marry Gwyneth Yronwood, watch her flower into beauty, have a child by her. I want to ride in tourneys, hawk and hunt, visit with my mother in Norvos, read some of those books my father sends me. I want Cletus and Will and Maester Kedry to be alive again. “Do you think Daenerys would be pleased to hear that I had bedded some whore?”

“She might be. Men may be fond of maidens, but women like a man who knows what he’s about in the bedchamber. It’s another sort of sword-play. Takes training to be good at it.”

The gibe stung. Quentyn had never felt so much a boy as when he’d stood before Daenerys Targaryen, pleading for her hand. The thought of bedding her terrified him almost as much as her dragons had. What if he could not please her? “Daenerys has a paramour,” he said defensively. “My father did not send me here to amuse the queen in the bedchamber. You know why we have come.”

“You cannot marry her. She has a husband.”

“She does not love Hizdahr zo Loraq.”

“What has love to do with marriage? A prince should know better. Your father married for love, it’s said. How much joy has he had of that?”

~

“Dorne remembers Aegon and his sisters. Dragons are not so easily forgotten. They will remember Daenerys as well.”

“Not if she’s died.”

“She lives.” She must. “She is lost, but I can find her.” And when I do, she will look at me the way she looks at her sellsword. Once I have proven myself worthy of her.

~

“What’s that for?” Arch asked.

“Daenerys used a whip to cow the black beast.” Quentyn coiled the whip and hung it from his belt. “Arch, bring your hammer as well. We may have need of it.”

~

Warrior, grant me courage, he prayed. He did not want to do this, but he saw no other way. Why else would Daenerys have shown me the dragons? She wants me to prove myself to her. Gerris handed him a torch. He stepped through the doors.

The green one is Rhaegal, the white Viserion, he reminded himself. Use their names, command them, speak to them calmly but sternly. Master them, as Daenerys mastered Drogon in the pit. The girl had been alone, clad in wisps of silk, but fearless. I must not be afraid. She did it, so can I. The main thing was to show no fear. Animals can smell fear, and dragons … What did he know of dragons? What does any man know of dragons? They have been gone from the world for more than a century.

~

Last and longest the beast stared at Pretty Meris, sniffing. The woman, Quentyn realized. He knows that she is female. He is looking for Daenerys. He wants his mother and does not understand why she’s not here.

Quentyn wrenched free of Gerris’s grip. “Viserion,” he called. The white one is Viserion. For half a heartbeat he was afraid he’d gotten it wrong. “Viserion,” he called again, fumbling for the whip hanging from his belt. She cowed the black one with a whip. I need to do the same.

ADWD The Kingbreaker

“One guardsman amongst forty. All waiting for the empty tabard on the throne to speak the command so we might cut down Bloodbeard and the rest. Do you think the Yunkai’i would ever have dared present Daenerys with the head of her hostage?”

No, thought Selmy. “Hizdahr seemed distraught.”

“Sham. His own kin of Loraq were returned unharmed. You saw. The Yunkai’i played us a mummer’s farce, with noble Hizdahr as chief mummer. The issue was never Yurkhaz zo Yunzak. The other slavers would gladly have trampled that old fool themselves. This was to give Hizdahr a pretext to kill the dragons.”

Ser Barristan chewed on that. “Would he dare?”

“He dared to kill his queen. Why not her pets? If we do not act, Hizdahr will hesitate for a time, to give proof of his reluctance and allow the Wise Masters the chance to rid him of the Stormcrow and the bloodrider. Then he will act. They want the dragons dead before the Volantene fleet arrives.”

Aye, they would. It all fit. That did not mean Barristan Selmy liked it any better. “That will not happen.” His queen was the Mother of Dragons; he would not allow her children to come to harm.    

~

“Daario might piss on us if we were burning. Elsewise do not look to him for help. Let the Stormcrows choose another captain, one who knows his place. If the queen does not return, the world will be one sellsword short. Who will grieve?”

“And when she does return?”

“She will weep and tear her hair and curse the Yunkai’i. Not us. No blood on our hands. You can comfort her. Tell her some tale of the old days, she likes those. Poor Daario, her brave captain … she will never forget him, no … but better for all of us if he is dead, yes? Better for Daenerys too.”

Better for Daenerys, and for Westeros. Daenerys Targaryen loved her captain, but that was the girl in her, not the queen. Prince Rhaegar loved his Lady Lyanna, and thousands died for it. Daemon Blackfyre loved the first Daenerys, and rose in rebellion when denied her. Bittersteel and Bloodraven both loved Shiera Seastar, and the Seven Kingdoms bled. The Prince of Dragonflies loved Jenny of Oldstones so much he cast aside a crown, and Westeros paid the bride price in corpses. All three of the sons of the fifth Aegon had wed for love, in defiance of their father’s wishes. And because that unlikely monarch had himself followed his heart when he chose his queen, he allowed his sons to have their way, making bitter enemies where he might have had fast friends. Treason and turmoil followed, as night follows day, ending at Summerhall in sorcery, fire, and grief.

Her love for Daario is poison. A slower poison than the locusts, but in the end as deadly. “There is still Jhogo,” Ser Barristan said. “Him, and Hero. Both precious to Her Grace.”

“We have hostages as well,” Skahaz Shavepate reminded him. “If the slavers kill one of ours, we kill one of theirs.”

For a moment Ser Barristan did not know whom he meant. Then it came to him. “The queen’s cupbearers?”

“Hostages,” insisted Skahaz mo Kandaq. “Grazdar and Qezza are the blood of the Green Grace. Mezzara is of Merreq, Kezmya is Pahl, Azzak Ghazeen. Bhakaz is Loraq, Hizdahr’s own kin. All are sons and daughters of the pyramids. Zhak, Quazzar, Uhlez, Hazkar, Dhazak, Yherizan, all children of Great Masters.”

“Innocent girls and sweet-faced boys.” Ser Barristan had come to know them all during the time they served the queen, Grazhar with his dreams of glory, shy Mezzara, lazy Miklaz, vain, pretty Kezmya, Qezza with her big soft eyes and angel’s voice, Dhazzar the dancer, and the rest. “Children.”

“Children of the Harpy. Only blood can pay for blood.”

“So said the Yunkishman who brought us Groleo’s head.”

“He was not wrong.”

“I will not permit it.”

“What use are hostages if they may not be touched?”

“Mayhaps we might offer three of the children for Daario, Hero, and Jhogo,” Ser Barristan allowed. “Her Grace—”

“—is not here. It is for you and me to do what must be done. You know that I am right.”

“Prince Rhaegar had two children,” Ser Barristan told him. “Rhaenys was a little girl, Aegon a babe in arms. When Tywin Lannister took King’s Landing, his men killed both of them. He served the bloody bodies up in crimson cloaks, a gift for the new king.” And what did Robert say when he saw them? Did he smile? Barristan Selmy had been badly wounded on the Trident, so he had been spared the sight of Lord Tywin’s gift, but oft he wondered. If I had seen him smile over the red ruins of Rhaegar’s children, no army on this earth could have stopped me from killing him. “I will not suffer the murder of children. Accept that, or I’ll have no part of this.”

~

That is what I fear. If King Hizdahr was innocent, what they did this day would be treason. But how could he be innocent? Selmy had heard him urging Daenerys to taste the poisoned locusts, shouting at his men to slay the dragon. If we do not act, Hizdahr will kill the dragons and open the gates to the queen’s enemies. We have no choice in this. Yet no matter how he turned and twisted this, the old knight could find no honor in it.

~

Some of them had been training for the fighting pits when Daenerys Targaryen took Meereen and freed them from their chains. Those had had a good acquaintance with sword and spear and battle-axe even before Ser Barristan got hold of them. A few might well be ready. The boy from the Basilisk Isles, for a start. Tumco Lho.

~

Rhaegar had chosen Lyanna Stark of Winterfell. Barristan Selmy would have made a different choice. Not the queen, who was not present. Nor Elia of Dorne, though she was good and gentle; had she been chosen, much war and woe might have been avoided. His choice would have been a young maiden not long at court, one of Elia’s companions … though compared to Ashara Dayne, the Dornish princess was a kitchen drab.

Even after all these years, Ser Barristan could still recall Ashara’s smile, the sound of her laughter. He had only to close his eyes to see her, with her long dark hair tumbling about her shoulders and those haunting purple eyes. Daenerys has the same eyes. Sometimes when the queen looked at him, he felt as if he were looking at Ashara’s daughter …

~

The boy went running off, and the king turned back to Selmy. “I dreamed you found Daenerys.”

“Dreams can lie, Your Grace.”

~

“It was your pit, your box, your seats. Sweet wine and soft cushions, figs and melons and honeyed locusts. You provided all. You urged Her Grace to try the locusts but never tasted one yourself.”

“I … hot spices do not agree with me. She was my wife. My queen. Why would I want to poison her?”

Was, he says. He believes her dead. “Only you can answer that, Magnificence. It might be that you wished to put another woman in her place.” Ser Barristan nodded at the girl peering timidly from the bed-chamber. “That one, perhaps?”

The king looked around wildly. “Her? She’s nothing. A bedslave.” He raised his hands. “I misspoke. Not a slave. A free woman. Trained in pleasure. Even a king has needs, she … she is none of your concern, ser. I would never harm Daenerys. Never.”

“You urged the queen to try the locusts. I heard you.”

“I thought she might enjoy them.” Hizdahr retreated another step. “Hot and sweet at once.”

“Hot and sweet and poisoned. With mine own ears I heard you commanding the men in the pit to kill Drogon. Shouting at them.”

Hizdahr licked his lips. “The beast devoured Barsena’s flesh. Dragons prey on men. It was killing, burning …”

“… burning men who meant harm to your queen. Harpy’s Sons, as like as not. Your friends.”

“Not my friends.”

“You say that, yet when you told them to stop killing they obeyed. Why would they do that if you were not one of them?”

Hizdahr shook his head. This time he did not answer. “Tell me true,” Ser Barristan said, “did you ever love her, even a little? Or was it just the crown you lusted for?”

“Lust? You dare speak to me of lust?” The king’s mouth twisted in anger. “I lusted for the crown, aye … but not half so much as she lusted for her sellsword. Perhaps it was her precious captain who tried to poison her, for putting him aside. And if I had eaten of his locusts too, well, so much the better.”

~

“You will be kept a prisoner until the queen returns. If nothing can be proved against you, you will not come to harm. You have my word as a knight.”

ADWD Victarion I

The war for Meereen was won, the captain claimed; the dragon queen was dead, and a Ghiscari by the name of Hizdak ruled the city now.

Victarion had his tongue torn out for lying. Daenerys Targaryen was not dead, Moqorro assured him; his red god R’hllor had shown him the queen’s face in his sacred fires. The captain could not abide lies, so he had the Ghiscari captain bound hand and foot and thrown overboard, a sacrifice to the Drowned God.

~

Sailing out of Myr, the Dove brought them no fresh news of Meereen or Daenerys, only stale reports of Dothraki horsemen along the Rhoyne, the Golden Company upon the march, and others things Victarion already knew.

~

They had been running empty, Victarion learned, making for New Ghis to load supplies and weapons for the Ghiscari legions encamped before Meereen … and to bring fresh legionaries to the war, to replace all the men who’d died. “Men slain in battle?” asked Victarion. The crews of the galleys denied it; the deaths were from a bloody flux. The pale mare, they called it. And like the captain of the Ghiscari Dawn, the captains of the galleys repeated the lie that Daenerys Targaryen was dead.

“Give her a kiss for me in whatever hell you find her,” Victarion said. He called for his axe and took their heads off there and then. Afterward he put their crews to death as well, saving only the slaves chained to the oars. He broke their chains himself and told them they were now free men and would have the privilege of rowing for the Iron Fleet, an honor that every boy in the Iron Islands dreamed of growing up. “The dragon queen frees slaves and so do I,” he proclaimed.

~

“The silver queen is gone,” the ketch’s master told him. “She flew away upon her dragon, beyond the Dothraki sea.”

“Where is this Dothraki sea?” he demanded. “I will sail the Iron Fleet across it and find the queen wherever she may be.”

The fisherman laughed aloud. “That would be a sight worth seeing. The Dothraki sea is made of grass, fool.”

~

“He bearded the lion in his den and tied the direwolf’s tail in knots, but even Dagon could not defeat the dragons. But I shall make the dragon queen mine own. She will share my bed and bear me many mighty sons.”

~

His dusky woman was enough to satisfy his appetites until he could reach Meereen and claim his queen.

~

A great wind came up then, a wind that filled their sails and swept them north and east and north again, toward Meereen and its pyramids of many-colored bricks. On wings of song I fly to you, Daenerys, the iron captain thought.

ADWD The Griffin Reborn

“Prince Doran’s younger son has been betrothed to Myrcella Baratheon, which would suggest that the Dornishmen have thrown in with House Lannister, but they have an army in the Boneway and another in the Prince’s Pass, just waiting …”

“Waiting.” He frowned. “For what?” Without Daenerys and her dragons, Dorne was central to their hopes. “Write Sunspear. Doran Martell must know that his sister’s son is still alive and has come home to claim his father’s throne.”

~

“My lord does have one prize to offer,” Haldon Halfmaester pointed out. “Prince Aegon’s hand. A marriage alliance, to bring some great House to our banners.”

A bride for our bright prince. Jon Connington remembered Prince Rhaegar’s wedding all too well. Elia was never worthy of him. She was frail and sickly from the first, and childbirth only left her weaker. After the birth of Princess Rhaenys, her mother had been bedridden for half a year, and Prince Aegon’s birth had almost been the death of her. She would bear no more children, the maesters told Prince Rhaegar afterward.

“Daenerys Targaryen may yet come home one day,” Connington told the Halfmaester. “Aegon must be free to marry her.”

ADWD The Spurned Suitor

“Even if the queen returns, she’ll still be married.”

“Not if I give King Harzoo a little smack with my hammer,” suggested the big man.

“Hizdahr,” said Quentyn. “His name is Hizdahr.”

“One kiss from my hammer and no one will care what his name was,” said Arch.

They do not see. His friends had lost sight of his true purpose here. The road leads through her, not to her. Daenerys is the means to the prize, not the prize itself. “ ‘The dragon has three heads,’ she said to me. ‘My marriage need not be the end of all your hopes,’ she said. ‘I know why you are here. For fire and blood.’ I have Targaryen blood in me, you know that. I can trace my lineage back—”

“Fuck your lineage,” said Gerris. “The dragons won’t care about your blood, except maybe how it tastes. You cannot tame a dragon with a history lesson. They’re monsters, not maesters. Quent, is this truly what you want to do?”

“This is what I have to do. For Dorne. For my father. For Cletus and Will and Maester Kedry.”

“They’re dead,” said Gerris. “They won’t care.”

“All dead,” Quentyn agreed. “For what? To bring me here, so I might wed the dragon queen. A grand adventure, Cletus called it. Demon roads and stormy seas, and at the end of it the most beautiful woman in the world. A tale to tell our grandchildren. But Cletus will never father a child, unless he left a bastard in the belly of that tavern wench he liked. Will will never have his wedding. Their deaths should have some meaning.”

~

“Denzo, I thought you told me that the dragon queen had married some Ghiscari.”

“A Meereenese nobleman. Rich.”

The Tattered Prince turned back to Quentyn. “Could that be true? Surely not. What of your marriage pact?”

“She laughed at him,” said Pretty Meris.

Daenerys never laughed. The rest of Meereen might see him as an amusing curiosity, like the exiled Summer Islander King Robert used to keep at King’s Landing, but the queen had always spoken to him gently. “We came too late,” said Quentyn.

~

“How long do you think the Yunkishmen will want to continue paying wages to four free companies?”

The Tattered Prince took a sip of wine and said, “A vexing question. But this is the way of life for we men of the free companies. One war ends, another begins. Fortunately there is always someone fighting someone somewhere. Perhaps here. Even as we sit here drinking Bloodbeard is urging our Yunkish friends to present King Hizdahr with another head. Freedmen and slavers eye each other’s necks and sharpen their knives, the Sons of the Harpy plot in their pyramids, the pale mare rides down slave and lord alike, our friends from the Yellow City gaze out to sea, and somewhere in the grasslands a dragon nibbles the tender flesh of Daenerys Targaryen. Who rules Meereen tonight? Who will rule it on the morrow?” The Pentoshi gave a shrug. “One thing I am certain of. Someone will have need of our swords.”

~

“So. Let me see if I understand. A proven liar and oathbreaker wishes to contract with us and pay in promises. And for what services? I wonder. Are my Windblown to smash the Yunkai’i and sack the Yellow City? Defeat a Dothraki khalasar in the field? Escort you home to your father? Or will you be content if we deliver Queen Daenerys to your bed wet and willing? Tell me true, Prince Frog. What would you have of me and mine?”

“I need you to help me steal a dragon.”

ADWD The Discarded Knight

Daenerys Targaryen had preferred to hold court from a bench of polished ebony, smooth and simple, covered with the cushions that Ser Barristan had found to make her more comfortable. King Hizdahr had replaced the bench with two imposing thrones of gilded wood, their tall backs carved into the shape of dragons. The king seated himself in the right-hand throne with a golden crown upon his head and a jeweled sceptre in one pale hand. The second throne remained vacant.

The important throne, thought Ser Barristan. No dragon chair can replace a dragon no matter how elaborately it’s carved.

~

“Is it true?” a freedwoman shouted. “Is our mother dead?”

“No, no, no,” Reznak screeched. “Queen Daenerys will return to Meereen in her own time in all her might and majesty. Until such time, His Worship King Hizdahr shall—”

“He is no king of mine,” a freedman yelled.

Men began to shove at one another. “The queen is not dead,” the seneschal proclaimed. “Her bloodriders have been dispatched across the Skahazadhan to find Her Grace and return her to her loving lord and loyal subjects. Each has ten picked riders, and each man has three swift horses, so they may travel fast and far. Queen Daenerys shall be found.”

A tall Ghiscari in a brocade robe spoke next, in a voice as sonorous as it was cold. King Hizdahr shifted on his dragon throne, his face stony as he did his best to appear concerned but unperturbed. Once again his seneschal gave answer.

Ser Barristan let Reznak’s oily words wash over him. His years in the Kingsguard had taught him the trick of listening without hearing, especially useful when the speaker was intent on proving that words were truly wind. Back at the rear of the hall, he spied the Dornish princeling and his two companions. They should not have come. Martell does not realize his danger. Daenerys was his only friend at this court, and she is gone. He wondered how much they understood of what was being said. Even he could not always make sense of the mongrel Ghiscari tongue the slavers spoke, especially when they were speaking fast.

Prince Quentyn was listening intently, at least. That one is his father’s son. Short and stocky, plain-faced, he seemed a decent lad, sober, sensible, dutiful … but not the sort to make a young girl’s heart beat faster. And Daenerys Targaryen, whatever else she might be, was still a young girl, as she herself would claim when it pleased her to play the innocent. Like all good queens she put her people first—else she would never have wed Hizdahr zo Loraq—but the girl in her still yearned for poetry, passion, and laughter. She wants fire, and Dorne sent her mud.

~

Martell was dancing in a vipers’ nest, and he did not even see the snakes. His continued presence, even after Daenerys had given herself to another before the eyes of gods and men, would provoke any husband, and Quentyn no longer had the queen to shield him from Hizdahr’s wroth. Although …

The thought hit him like a slap across the face. Quentyn had grown up amongst the courts of Dorne. Plots and poisons were no strangers to him. Nor was Prince Lewyn his only uncle. He is kin to the Red Viper. Daenerys had taken another for her consort, but if Hizdahr died, she would be free to wed again. Could the Shavepate have been wrong? Who can say that the locusts were meant for Daenerys? It was the king’s own box. What if he was meant to be the victim all along? Hizdahr’s death would have smashed the fragile peace. The Sons of the Harpy would have resumed their murders, the Yunkishmen their war. Daenerys might have had no better choice than Quentyn and his marriage pact.

~

Reznak mo Reznak cleared his throat noisily. “Meaning no offense, yet it seems to me that Her Worship Queen Daenerys gave you … ah … seven hostages. The other three …”

“The others shall remain our guests,” announced the Yunkish lord in the breastplate, “until the dragons have been destroyed.”

A hush fell across the hall. Then came the murmurs and the mutters, whispered curses, whispered prayers, the hornets stirring in their hive. “The dragons …” said King Hizdahr.

“… are monsters, as all men saw in Daznak’s Pit. No true peace is possible whilst they live.”

Reznak replied. “Her Magnificence Queen Daenerys is Mother of Dragons. Only she can—”

Bloodbeard’s scorn cut him off. “She is gone. Burned and devoured. Weeds grow through her broken skull.”

~

Ser Barristan watched them, thoughtful. What would Daenerys want? he asked himself. He thought he knew.

~

“Leave the city. Return to Dorne.”

The Dornishmen exchanged a look. “Our arms and armor are back in our apartments,” said Gerris Drinkwater. “Not to mention most of the coin that we have left.”

“Swords can be replaced,” said Ser Barristan. “I can provide you with coin enough for passage back to Dorne. Prince Quentyn, the king made note of you today. He frowned.”

Gerris Drinkwater laughed. “Should we be frightened of Hizdahr zo Loraq? You saw him just now. He quailed before the Yunkishmen. They sent him a head, and he did nothing.”

Quentyn Martell nodded in agreement. “A prince does well to think before he acts. This king … I do not know what to think of him. The queen warned me against him as well, true, but …”

“She warned you?” Selmy frowned. “Why are you still here?”

Prince Quentyn flushed. “The marriage pact—”

“—was made by two dead men and contained not a word about the queen or you. It promised your sister’s hand to the queen’s brother, another dead man. It has no force. Until you turned up here, Her Grace was ignorant of its existence. Your father keeps his secrets well, Prince Quentyn. Too well, I fear. If the queen had known of this pact in Qarth, she might never have turned aside for Slaver’s Bay, but you came too late. I have no wish to salt your wounds, but Her Grace has a new husband and an old paramour, and seems to prefer the both of them to you.”

“This Ghiscari lordling is no fit consort for the queen of the Seven Kingdoms.”

“That is not for you to judge.” Ser Barristan paused, wondering if he had said too much already. No. Tell him the rest of it. “That day at Daznak’s Pit, some of the food in the royal box was poisoned. It was only chance that Strong Belwas ate it all. The Blue Graces say that only his size and freakish strength have saved him, but it was a near thing. He may yet die.”

The shock was plain on Prince Quentyn’s face. “Poison … meant for Daenerys?”

“Her or Hizdahr. Perhaps both. The box was his, though. His Grace made all the arrangements. If the poison was his doing … well, he will need a scapegoat. Who better than a rival from a distant land who has no friends at this court? Who better than a suitor the queen spurned?”

Quentyn Martell went pale. “Me? I would never … you cannot think I had any part in any …”

That was the truth, or he is a master mummer. “Others might,” said Ser Barristan. “The Red Viper was your uncle. And you have good reason to want King Hizdahr dead.”

“So do others,” suggested Gerris Drinkwater. “Naharis, for one. The queen’s …”

“… paramour,” Ser Barristan finished, before the Dornish knight could say anything that might besmirch the queen’s honor.

ADWD Tyrion XI

“The silver queen—”

“—is dead,” insisted Sweets. “Forget her! The dragon took her across the river. She’s drowned in that Dothraki sea.”

“You can’t drown in grass,” the goat boy said. “If we were free,” said Penny, “we could find the queen. Or go search for her, at least.”

You on your dog and me on my sow, chasing a dragon across the Dothraki sea. Tyrion scratched his scar to keep from laughing. “This particular dragon has already evinced a fondness for roast pork. And roast dwarf is twice as tasty.”

~

The fact that there were any good wells at all within a day’s march of the city only went to prove that Daenerys Targaryen was still an innocent where siegecraft was concerned. She should have poisoned every well. Then all the Yunkishmen would be drinking from the river. See how long their siege lasts then. That was what his lord father would have done, Tyrion did not doubt.

~

There was no better place to hear the latest news and rumors than around the well. “I know what I saw,” an old slave in a rusted iron collar was saying, as Tyrion and Penny shuffled along in the queue, “and I saw that dragon ripping off arms and legs, tearing men in half, burning them down to ash and bones. People started running, trying to get out of that pit, but I come to see a show, and by all the gods of Ghis, I saw one. I was up in the purple, so I didn’t think the dragon was like to trouble me.”

“The queen climbed onto the dragon’s back and flew away,” insisted a tall brown woman.

“She tried,” said the old man, “but she couldn’t hold on. The cross-bows wounded the dragon, and the queen was struck right between her sweet pink teats, I hear. That was when she fell. She died in the gutter, crushed beneath a wagon’s wheels. I know a girl who knows a man who saw her die.”

In this company, silence was the better part of wisdom, but Tyrion could not help himself. “No corpse was found,” he said.

The old man frowned. “What would you know about it?”

“They were there,” said the brown woman. “It’s them, the jousting dwarfs, the ones who tilted for the queen.”

The old man squinted down as if seeing him and Penny for the first time. “You’re the ones who rode the pigs.”

Our notoriety precedes us. Tyrion sketched a courtly bow, and refrained from pointing out that one of the pigs was really a dog. “The sow I ride is actually my sister. We have the same nose, could you tell? A wizard cast a spell on her, but if you give her a big wet kiss, she will turn into a beautiful woman. The pity is, once you get to know her, you’ll want to kiss her again to turn her back.”

Laughter erupted all around them. Even the old man joined in. “You saw her, then,” said the redheaded boy behind them. “You saw the queen. Is she as beautiful as they say?”

I saw a slender girl with silvery hair wrapped in a tokar, he might have told them. Her face was veiled, and I never got close enough for a good look. I was riding on a pig. Daenerys Targaryen had been seated in the owner’s box beside her Ghiscari king, but Tyrion’s eyes had been drawn to the knight in the white-and-gold armor behind her. Though his features were concealed, the dwarf would have known Barristan Selmy anywhere. Illyrio was right about that much, at least, he remembered thinking. Will Selmy know me, though? And what will he do if he does?

~

“The queen watched us tilt,” Penny was telling the other slaves in line, “but that was the only time we saw her.”

“You must have seen the dragon,” said the old man.

Would that we had. The gods had not even vouchsafed him that much. As Daenerys Targaryen was taking wing, Nurse had been clapping irons round their ankles to make certain they would not attempt escape on their way back to their master. If the overseer had only taken his leave after delivering them to the abbatoir, or fled with the rest of the slavers when the dragon descended from the sky, the two dwarfs might have strolled away free. Or run away, more like, our little bells a-jingle.

“Was there a dragon?” Tyrion said with a shrug. “All I know is that no dead queens were found.”

~

“...Might be they did but decided to say elsewise, to keep you slaves quiet.”

“Us slaves?” said the brown woman. “You wear a collar too.”

“Ghazdor’s collar,” the old man boasted. “Known him since we was born. I’m almost like a brother to him. Slaves like you, sweepings out of Astapor and Yunkai, you whine about being free, but I wouldn’t give the dragon queen my collar if she offered to suck my cock for it. Man has the right master, that’s better.”

 ADWD The Iron Suitor

And I must needs reach the dragon queen before the Volantenes.

In Volantis he had seen the galleys taking on provisions. The whole city had seemed drunk. Sailors and soldiers and tinkers had been observed dancing in the streets with nobles and fat merchants, and in every inn and winesink cups were being raised to the new triarchs. All the talk had been of the gold and gems and slaves that would flood into Volantis once the dragon queen was dead.

~

“Is it still to be Meereen?”

“Where else? The dragon queen awaits me in Meereen.” The fairest woman in the world if my brother could be believed. Her hair is silver-gold, her eyes are amethysts.

Was it too much to hope that for once Euron had told it true? Perhaps. Like as not, the girl would prove to be some pock-faced slattern with teats slapping against her knees, her “dragons” no more than tattooed lizards from the swamps of Sothoryos. If she is all that Euron claims, though … They had heard talk of the beauty of Daenerys Targaryen from the lips of pirates in the Stepstones and fat merchants in Old Volantis. It might be true. And Euron had not made Victarion a gift of her; the Crow’s Eye meant to take her for himself. He sends me like a serving man to fetch her. How he will howl when I claim her for myself. Let the men mutter. They had sailed too far and lost too much for Victarion to turn west without his prize.

 ADWD The Queensguard

You were the queen’s man,” said Reznak mo Reznak. “The king desires his own men about him when he holds court.”

I am the queen’s man still. Today, tomorrow, always, until my last breath, or hers. Barristan Selmy refused to believe that Daenerys Targaryen was dead.

Perhaps that was why he was being put aside. One by one, Hizdahr removes us all.

~

Despite all the queen had done, the sickness had spread, both within the city walls and without. Meereen’s markets were closed, its streets empty. King Hizdahr had allowed the fighting pits to remain open, but the crowds were sparse. The Meereenese had even begun to shun the Temple of the Graces, reportedly.

The slavers will find some way to blame Daenerys for that as well, Ser Barristan thought bitterly. He could almost hear them whispering—Great Masters, Sons of the Harpy, Yunkai’i, all telling one another that his queen was dead. Half of the city believed it, though as yet they did not have the courage to say such words aloud. But soon, I think.

~

Not for the first time, Selmy wondered at the strange fates that had brought him here. He was a knight of Westeros, a man of the stormlands and the Dornish marches; his place was in the Seven Kingdoms, not here upon the sweltering shores of Slaver’s Bay. I came to bring Daenerys home. Yet he had lost her, just as he had lost her father and her brother. Even Robert. I failed him too.

Perhaps Hizdahr was wiser than he knew. Ten years ago I would have sensed what Daenerys meant to do. Ten years ago I would have been quick enough to stop her. Instead he had stood befuddled as she leapt into the pit, shouting her name, then running uselessly after her across the scarlet sands. I am become old and slow. Small wonder Naharis mocked him as Ser Grandfather. Would Daario have moved more quickly if he had been beside the queen that day? Selmy thought he knew the answer to that, though it was not one he liked.

He had dreamed of it again last night: Belwas on his knees retching up bile and blood, Hizdahr urging on the dragonslayers, men and women fleeing in terror, fighting on the steps, climbing over one another, screaming and shouting. And Daenerys …

Her hair was aflame. She had the whip in her hand and she was shouting, then she was on the dragon’s back, flying. The sand that Drogon stirred as he took wing had stung Ser Barristan’s eyes, but through a veil of tears he had watched the beast fly from the pit, his great black wings slapping at the shoulders of the bronze warriors at the gates.

The rest he learned later. Beyond the gates had been a solid press of people. Maddened by the smell of dragon, horses below reared in terror, lashing out with iron-shod hooves. Food stalls and palanquins alike were overturned, men knocked down and trampled. Spears were thrown, cross-bows were fired. Some struck home. The dragon twisted violently in the air, wounds smoking, the girl clinging to his back. Then he loosed the fire.

It had taken the rest of the day and most of the night for the Brazen Beasts to gather up the corpses. The final count was two hundred fourteen slain, three times as many burned or wounded. Drogon was gone from the city by then, last seen high over the Skahazadhan, flying north. Of Daenerys Targaryen, no trace had been found. Some swore they saw her fall. Others insisted that the dragon had carried her off to devour her. They are wrong.

Ser Barristan knew no more of dragons than the tales every child hears, but he knew Targaryens. Daenerys had been riding that dragon, as Aegon had once ridden Balerion of old.

“She might be flying home,” he told himself, aloud. “No,” murmured a soft voice behind him. “She would not do that, ser. She would not go home without us.”

Ser Barristan turned. “Missandei. Child. How long have you been standing there?”

“Not long. This one is sorry if she has disturbed you.”

~

It was his failures that haunted him at night, though. Jaehaerys, Aerys, Robert. Three dead kings. Rhaegar, who would have been a finer king than any of them. Princess Elia and the children. Aegon just a babe, Rhaenys with her kitten. Dead, every one, yet he still lived, who had sworn to protect them. And now Daenerys, his bright shining child queen. She is not dead. I will not believe it.

Afternoon brought Ser Barristan a brief respite from his doubts. He spent it in the training hall on the pyramid’s third level, working with his boys, teaching them the art of sword and shield, horse and lance … and chivalry, the code that made a knight more than any pit fighter. Daenerys would need protectors her own age about her after he was gone, and Ser Barristan was determined to give her such.

The lads he was instructing ranged in age from eight to twenty. He had started with more than sixty of them, but the training had proved too rigorous for many. Less than half that number now remained, but some showed great promise. With no king to guard, I will have more time to train them now, he realized as he walked from pair to pair, watching them go at one another with blunted swords and spears with rounded heads. Brave boys. Baseborn, aye, but some will make good knights, and they love the queen. If not for her, all of them would have ended in the pits. King Hizdahr has his pit fighters, but Daenerys will have knights.

~

If the queen had commanded me to protect Hizdahr, I would have had no choice but to obey. But Daenerys Targaryen had never established a proper Queensguard even for herself nor issued any commands in respect to her consort. The world was simpler when I had a lord commander to decide such matters, Selmy reflected. Now I am the lord commander, and it is hard to know which path is right.

~

“I have the poisoner.”

“Who?”

“Hizdahr’s confectioner. His name would mean nothing to you. The man was just a cats paw. The Sons of the Harpy took his daughter and swore she would be returned unharmed once the queen was dead. Belwas and the dragon saved Daenerys. No one saved the girl. She was returned to her father in the black of night, in nine pieces. One for every year she lived.”

“Why?” Doubts gnawed at him. “The Sons had stopped their killing. Hizdahr’s peace—”

“—is a sham. Not at first, no. The Yunkai’i were afraid of our queen, of her Unsullied, of her dragons. This land has known dragons before. Yurkhaz zo Yunzak had read his histories, he knew. Hizdahr as well. Why not a peace? Daenerys wanted it, they could see that. Wanted it too much. She should have marched to Astapor.” Skahaz moved closer. “That was before. The pit changed all. Daenerys gone, Yurkhaz dead. In place of one old lion, a pack of jackals. Bloodbeard … that one has no taste for peace. And there is more. Worse. Volantis has launched its fleet against us.”

“Volantis.” Selmy’s sword hand tingled. We made a peace with Yunkai. Not with Volantis. “You are certain?”

“Certain. The Wise Masters know. So do their friends. The Harpy, Reznak, Hizdahr. This king will open the city gates to the Volantenes when they arrive. All those Daenerys freed will be enslaved again. Even some who were never slaves will be fitted for chains. You may end your days in a fighting pit, old man. Khrazz will eat your heart.”

His head was pounding. “Daenerys must be told.”

“Find her first.” Skahaz grasped his forearm. His fingers felt like iron. “We cannot wait for her.

~

“Daenerys signed that peace,” Ser Barristan said. “It is not for us to break it without her leave.”

“And if she is dead?” demanded Skahaz. “What then, ser? I say she would want us to protect her city. Her children.”

Her children were the freedmen. Mhysa, they called her, all those whose chains she broke. “Mother.” The Shavepate was not wrong. Daenerys would want her children protected. “What of Hizdahr? He is still her consort. Her king. Her husband.”

“Her poisoner.”

Is he? “Where is your proof?”

“The crown he wears is proof enough. The throne he sits. Open your eyes, old man. That is all he needed from Daenerys, all he ever wanted. Once he had it, why share the rule?”

Why indeed? It had been so hot down in the pit. He could still see the air shimmering above the scarlet sands, smell the blood spilling from the men who’d died for their amusement. And he could still hear Hizdahr, urging his queen to try the honeyed locusts.

ADWD Tyrion X

The next piece of chattel was already being led up to take their place. A girl, fifteen or sixteen, not off the Selaesori Qhoran this time. Tyrion did not know her. The same age as Daenerys Targaryen, or near enough. The slaver soon had her naked. At least we were spared that humiliation.

~

Mormont paid no mind to the mongrel crowd; his eyes were fixed beyond the siege lines, on the distant city with its ancient walls of many-colored brick. Tyrion could read that look as easy as a book: so near and yet so distant. The poor wretch had returned too late. Daenerys Targaryen was wed, the guards on the pens had told them, laughing. She had taken a Meereenese slaver as her king, as wealthy as he was noble, and when the peace was signed and sealed the fighting pits of Meereen would open once again. Other slaves insisted that the guards were lying, that Daenerys Targaryen would never make peace with slavers. Mhysa, they called her. Someone told him that meant Mother. Soon the silver queen would come forth from her city, smash the Yunkai’i, and break their chains, they whispered to one another.

And then she’ll bake us all a lemon pie and kiss our widdle wounds and make them better, the dwarf thought. He had no faith in royal rescues. If need be, he would see to their deliverance himself.

ADWD Jon IX

“Let us hope so. The narrow sea is perilous this time of year, and of late there have been troubling reports of strange ships seen amongst the Step-stones.”

“Salladhor Saan?”

“The Lysene pirate? Some say he has returned to his old haunts, this is so. And Lord Redwyne’s war fleet creeps through the Broken Arm as well.

On its way home, no doubt. But these men and their ships are well-known to us. No, these other sails … from farther east, perhaps … one hears queer talk of dragons.”

“Would that we had one here. A dragon might warm things up a bit.”

“My lord jests. You will forgive me if I do not laugh. We Braavosi are descended from those who fled Valyria and the wroth of its dragonlords. We do not jape of dragons.”

ADWD Tyrion IX

“We failed at that as well. No one threw coins.” Not a penny, not a groat.

“They will when we get better.” Penny pulled off her helm. Mouse-brown hair spilled down to her ears. Her eyes were brown too, beneath a heavy shelf of brow, her cheeks smooth and flushed. She pulled some acorns from a leather bag for Pretty Pig. The sow ate them from her hand, squealing happily. “When we perform for Queen Daenerys the silver will rain down, you’ll see.”

~

At Joffrey’s wedding feast, he recalled, one rider had displayed the direwolf of Robb Stark, the other the arms and colors of Stannis Baratheon. “We will need both animals if we’re to tilt for Queen Daenerys,” he said. If the sailors took it in their heads to butcher Pretty Pig, neither he nor Penny could hope to stop them … but Ser Jorah’s longsword might give them pause, at least.

“Is that how you hope to keep your head, Imp?”

“Ser Imp, if you please. And yes. Once Her Grace knows my true worth, she’ll cherish me. I am a lovable little fellow, after all, and I know many useful things about my kin. But until such time I had best keep her amused.”

“Caper as you like, it won’t wash out your crimes. Daenerys Targaryen is no silly child to be diverted by japes and tumbles. She will deal with you justly.”

Oh, I hope not. Tyrion studied Mormont with his mismatched eyes. “And how will she welcome you, this just queen? A warm embrace, a girlish titter, a headsman’s axe?” He grinned at the knight’s obvious discomfit. “Did you truly expect me to believe you were about the queen’s business in that whorehouse? Defending her from half a world away? Or could it be that you were running, that your dragon queen sent you from her side? But why would she … oh, wait, you were spying on her.” Tyrion made a clucking sound. “You hope to buy your way back into her favor by presenting her with me. An ill-considered scheme, I’d say. One might even say an act of drunken desperation. Perhaps if I were Jaime … but Jaime killed her father, I only killed my own. You think Daenerys will execute me and pardon you, but the reverse is just as likely. Maybe you should hop up on that pig, Ser Jorah. Put on a suit of iron motley, like Florian the—”

The blow the big knight gave him cracked his head around and knocked him sideways, so hard that his head bounced off the deck.

~

“The widow said this ship would never reach her destination. I took that to mean that once we were out to sea beyond the reach of triarchs, the captain would change course for Meereen. Or perhaps that you would seize the ship with your Fiery Hand and take us to Daenerys. But that isn’t what your high priest saw at all, is it?”

“No.” Moqorro’s deep voice tolled as solemnly as a funeral bell. “This is what he saw.”

ADWD Tyrion VIII

“Have you come to pray with me?”

“Someone told me that the night is dark and full of terrors. What do you see in those flames?”

“Dragons,” Moqorro said in the Common Tongue of Westeros. He spoke it very well, with hardly a trace of accent. No doubt that was one reason the high priest Benerro had chosen him to bring the faith of R’hllor to Daenerys Targaryen. “Dragons old and young, true and false, bright and dark. And you. A small man with a big shadow, snarling in the midst of all.”

~

Twice exiled, and small wonder, Tyrion thought. I’d exile him too if I could. The man is cold, brooding, sullen, deaf to humor. And those are his good points. Ser Jorah spent most of his waking hours pacing the forecastle or leaning on the rail, gazing out to sea. Looking for his silver queen. Looking for Daenerys, willing the ship to sail faster. Well, I might do the same if Tysha waited in Meereen.

~

“Daenerys has a kind heart and a generous nature.” It was what she needed to hear. “She will find a place for you at her court, I don’t doubt. A safe place, beyond my sister’s reach.”

Penny turned back to him. “And you will be there too.”

Unless Daenerys decides she needs some Lannister blood, to pay for the Targaryen blood my brother shed. “I will.”

~

“Does our captain mean to test the curse?”

“Our captain would prefer to be fifty leagues farther out to sea, well away from that accursed shore, but I have commanded him to steer the shortest course. Others seek Daenerys too.”

Griff, with his young prince. Could all that talk of the Golden Company sailing west have been a feint? Tyrion considered saying something, then thought better. It seemed to him that the prophecy that drove the red priests had room for just one hero. A second Targaryen would only serve to confuse them. “Have you seen these others in your fires?” he asked, warily.

“Only their shadows,” Moqorro said. “One most of all. A tall and twisted thing with one black eye and ten long arms, sailing on a sea of blood.”

  ADWD Tyrion VII

“What is he saying?” Tyrion asked the knight.

“That Daenerys stands in peril. The dark eye has fallen upon her, and the minions of night are plotting her destruction, praying to their false gods in temples of deceit … conspiring at betrayal with godless outlanders …”

The hairs on the back of Tyrion’s neck began to prickle. Prince Aegon will find no friend here. The red priest spoke of ancient prophecy, a prophecy that foretold the coming of a hero to deliver the world from darkness. One hero. Not two. Daenerys has dragons, Aegon does not. The dwarf did not need to be a prophet himself to foresee how Benerro and his followers might react to a second Targaryen. Griff will see that too, surely, he thought, surprised to find how much he cared.

~

Tyrion had just swallowed another locust. He almost choked on it. Is he mocking me? How much could he know of Griff and Aegon? “Bugger,” he said. “I meant to hire the Golden Company myself, to win me Casterly Rock.” Could this be some ploy of Griff’s, false reports deliberately spread? Unless … Could the pretty princeling have swallowed the bait? Turned them west instead of east, abandoning his hopes of wedding Queen Daenerys? Abandoning the dragons … would Griff allow that?

~

“We need swift passage to Meereen.”

One word. Tyrion Lannister’s world turned upside down.

One word. Meereen. Or had he misheard?

One word. Meereen, he said Meereen, he’s taking me to Meereen. Meereen meant life. Or hope for life, at least.

“Why come to me?” the widow said. “I own no ships.”

“You have many captains in your debt.”

Deliver me to the queen, he says. Aye, but which queen? He isn’t selling me to Cersei. He’s giving me to Daenerys Targaryen. That’s why he hasn’t hacked my head off. We’re going east, and Griff and his prince are going west, the bloody fools.

Oh, it was all too much. Plots within plots, but all roads lead down the dragon’s gullet. A guffaw burst from his lips, and suddenly Tyrion could not stop laughing.

“Your dwarf is having a fit,” the widow observed. “My dwarf will be quiet, or I’ll see him gagged.”

Tyrion covered his mouth with his hands. Meereen!

~

“...Have you heard Benerro preach?”

“Last night.”

“Benerro can see the morrow in his flames,” the widow said. “Triarch Malaquo tried to hire the Golden Company, did you know? He meant to clean out the red temple and put Benerro to the sword. He dare not use tiger cloaks. Half of them worship the Lord of Light as well. Oh, these are dire days in Old Volantis, even for wrinkled old widows. But not half so dire as in Meereen, I think. So tell me, ser … why do you seek the silver queen?”

~

“Keep your silver. I have gold. And spare me your black looks, ser. I am too old to be frightened of a scowl. You are a hard man, I see, and no doubt skilled with that long sword at your side, but this is my realm. Let me crook a finger and you may find yourself traveling to Meereen chained to an oar in the belly of a galley.” She lifted her jade fan and opened it. There was a rustle of leaves, and a man slid from the overgrown archway to her left. His face was a mass of scars, and in one hand he held a sword, short and heavy as a cleaver. “Seek the widow of the waterfront, someone told you, but they should have also warned you, beware the widow’s sons. It is such a sweet morning, though, I shall ask again. Why would you seek Daenerys Targaryen, whom half the world wants dead?”

Jorah Mormont’s face was dark with anger, but he answered. “To serve her. Defend her. Die for her, if need be.”

That made the widow laugh. “You want to rescue her, is that the way of it? From more enemies than I can name, with swords beyond count … this is what you’d have the poor widow believe? That you are a true and chivalrous Westerosi knight crossing half the world to come to the aid of this … well, she is no maiden, though she may still be fair.” She laughed again. “Do you think your dwarf will please her? Will she bathe in his blood, do you think, or content herself with striking off his head?”

Ser Jorah hesitated. “The dwarf is—”

“—I know who the dwarf is, and what he is.” Her black eyes turned to Tyrion, hard as stone. “Kinslayer, kingslayer, murderer, turncloak. Lannister.” She made the last a curse. “What do you plan to offer the dragon queen, little man?”

My hate, Tyrion wanted to say. Instead he spread his hands as far as the fetters would allow. “Whatever she would have of me. Sage counsel, savage wit, a bit of tumbling. My cock, if she desires it. My tongue, if she does not. I will lead her armies or rub her feet, as she desires. And the only reward I ask is I might be allowed to rape and kill my sister.”

~

“If I were Volantene, and free, and had the blood, you’d have my vote for triarch, my lady.”

“I am no lady,” the widow replied, “just Vogarro’s whore. You want to be gone from here before the tigers come. Should you reach your queen, give her a message from the slaves of Old Volantis.” She touched the faded scar upon her wrinkled cheek, where her tears had been cut away. “Tell her we are waiting. Tell her to come soon.”

ADWD The Windblown

The word passed through the camp like a hot wind. She is coming. Her host is on the march. She is racing south to Yunkai, to put the city to the torch and its people to the sword, and we are going north to meet her.

~

“We’ll get provisions in Yunkai, maybe fresh horses, then it will be on to Meereen to dance with the dragon queen. So hop quick, Frog, and put a nice edge on your master’s sword. Might be he’ll need it soon.”

~

“Arch is the best fighter of the three of us,” Drinkwater had pointed out, “but only you can hope to wed the dragon queen.”

Wed her or fight her; either way, I will face her soon. The more Quentyn heard of Daenerys Targaryen, the more he feared that meeting. The Yunkai’i claimed that she fed her dragons on human flesh and bathed in the blood of virgins to keep her skin smooth and supple. Beans laughed at that but relished the tales of the silver queen’s promiscuity. “One of her captains comes of a line where the men have foot-long members,” he told them, “but even he’s not big enough for her. She rode with the Dothraki and grew accustomed to being fucked by stallions, so now no man can fill her.” And Books, the clever Volantene swordsman who always seemed to have his nose poked in some crumbly scroll, thought the dragon queen both murderous and mad. “Her khal killed her brother to make her queen. Then she killed her khal to make herself khaleesi. She practices blood sacrifice, lies as easily as she breathes, turns against her own on a whim. She’s broken truces, tortured envoys … her father was mad too. It runs in the blood.”

It runs in the blood. King Aerys II had been mad, all of Westeros knew that. He had exiled two of his Hands and burned a third. If Daenerys is as murdeous as her father, must I still marry her? Prince Doran had never spoken of that possibility.

~

Their mistress could not have been more than sixteen and fancied herself Yunkai’s own Daenerys Targaryen.

~

“Daenerys may be halfway to Yunkai by now, with an army at her back,” Quentyn said as they walked amongst the horses.

“She may be,” Gerris said, “but she’s not. We’ve heard such talk before. The Astapori were convinced Daenerys was coming south with her dragons to break the siege. She didn’t come then, and she’s not coming now.”

“We can’t know that, not for certain. We need to steal away before we end up fighting the woman I was sent to woo.”

“Wait till Yunkai.” Gerris gestured at the hills. “These lands belong to the Yunkai’i. No one is like to want to feed or shelter three deserters. North of Yunkai, that’s no-man’s-land.”

He was not wrong. Even so, Quentyn felt uneasy. “The big man’s made too many friends. He knows the plan was always to steal off and make our way to Daenerys, but he’s not going to feel good about abandoning men he’s fought with. If we wait too long, it’s going to feel as if we’re deserting them on the eve of battle. He will never do that. You know him as well as I do.”

~

“You’d have us turn our cloaks?”

“I would,” said the Tattered Prince.

Quentyn Martell almost laughed aloud. The gods are mad.

The Westerosi shifted uneasily. Some stared into their wine cups, as if they hoped to find some wisdom there. Hugh Hungerford frowned. “You think Queen Daenerys will take us in …”

“I do.”

~

“Meris will command you,” said the Tattered Prince. “She knows my mind in this … and Daenerys Targaryen may be more accepting of another woman.”

~

“The best ruses always have some seed of truth,” said the Tattered Prince. “Every one of you has ample reason for wanting to abandon me. And Daenerys Targaryen knows that sellswords are a fickle lot. Her own Second Sons and Stormcrows took Yunkish gold but did not hesitate to join her when the tide of battle began to flow her way.”

 ADWD The Lost Lord

A ferocious southern sun beat down upon the crowded riverfront of Volon Therys, but heat was the last and least of Griff’s concerns. The Golden Company was encamped three miles south of town, well north of where he had expected them, and Triarch Malaquo had come north with five thousand foot and a thousand horse to cut them off from the delta road. Daenerys Targaryen remained a world away, and Tyrion Lannister … well, he could be most anywhere.

~

“The plan was to reveal Prince Aegon only when we reached Queen Daenerys,” Lemore was saying.

“That was when we believed the girl was coming west. Our dragon queen has burned that plan to ash, and thanks to that fat fool in Pentos, we have grasped the she-dragon by the tail and burned our fingers to the bone.”

“Illyrio could not have been expected to know that the girl would choose to remain at Slaver’s Bay.”

“No more than he knew that the Beggar King would die young, or that Khal Drogo would follow him into the grave. Very little of what the fat man has anticipated has come to pass.”

~

“I assume you know that the Targaryen girl has not started for the west?”

“We heard that tale in Selhorys.”

“No tale. Simple truth. The why of it is harder to grasp. Sack Meereen, aye, why not? I would have done the same in her place. The slaver cities reek of gold, and conquest requires coin. But why linger? Fear? Madness? Sloth?”

“The why of it does not matter.” Harry Strickland unrolled a pair of striped woolen stockings. “She is in Meereen and we are here, where the Volantenes grow daily more unhappy with our presence. We came to raise up a king and queen who would lead us home to Westeros, but this Targaryen girl seems more intent on planting olive trees than in reclaiming her father’s throne. Meanwhile, her foes gather. Yunkai, New Ghis, Tolos. Bloodbeard and the Tattered Prince will both be in the field against her … and soon enough the fleets of Old Volantis will descend on her as well. What does she have? Bedslaves with sticks?”

“Unsullied,” said Griff. “And dragons.”

“Dragons, aye,” the captain-general said, “but young ones, hardly more than hatchlings.” Strickland eased his sock over his blisters and up his ankle. “How much will they avail her when all these armies close about her city like a fist?”

Tristan Rivers drummed his fingers on his knee. “All the more reason that we must reach her quickly, I say. If Daenerys will not come to us, we must go to Daenerys.”

“Can we walk across the waves, ser?” asked Lysono Maar. “I tell you again, we cannot reach the silver queen by sea. I slipped into Volantis myself, posing as a trader, to learn how many ships might be available to us. The harbor teems with galleys, cogs, and carracks of every sort and size, yet even so I soon found myself consorting with smugglers and pirates. We have ten thousand men in the company, as I am sure Lord Connington remembers from his years of service with us. Five hundred knights, each with three horses. Five hundred squires, with one mount apiece. And elephants, we must not forget the elephants. A pirate ship will not suffice. We would need a pirate fleet … and even if we found one, the word has come back from Slaver’s Bay that Meereen has been closed off by blockade.”

~

And then Prince Aegon spoke. “Then put your hopes on me,” he said. “Daenerys is Prince Rhaegar’s sister, but I am Rhaegar’s son. I am the only dragon that you need.”

Griff put a black-gloved hand upon Prince Aegon’s shoulder. “Spoken boldly,” he said, “but think what you are saying.”

“I have,” the lad insisted. “Why should I go running to my aunt as if I were a beggar? My claim is better than her own. Let her come to me … in Westeros.”

Franklyn Flowers laughed. “I like it. Sail west, not east. Leave the little queen to her olives and seat Prince Aegon upon the Iron Throne. The boy has stones, give him that.”

The captain-general looked as if someone had slapped his face. “Has the sun curdled your brains, Flowers? We need the girl. We need the marriage. If Daenerys accepts our princeling and takes him for her consort, the Seven Kingdoms will do the same. Without her, the lords will only mock his claim and brand him a fraud and a pretender. And how do you propose to get to Westeros? You heard Lysono. There are no ships to be had.”

~

“By now the lion surely has the dragon’s scent,” said one of the Coles, “but Cersei’s attentions will be fixed upon Meereen and this other queen. She knows nothing of our prince. Once we land and raise our banners, many and more will flock to join us.”

“Some,” allowed Homeless Harry, “not many. Rhaegar’s sister has dragons. Rhaegar’s son does not. We do not have the strength to take the realm without Daenerys and her army. Her Unsullied.”

“The first Aegon took Westeros without eunuchs,” said Lysono Maar. “Why shouldn’t the sixth Aegon do the same?”

“The plan—”

“Which plan?” said Tristan Rivers. “The fat man’s plan? The one that changes every time the moon turns? First Viserys Targaryen was to join us with fifty thousand Dothraki screamers at his back. Then the Beggar King was dead, and it was to be the sister, a pliable young child queen who was on her way to Pentos with three new-hatched dragons. Instead the girl turns up on Slaver’s Bay and leaves a string of burning cities in her wake, and the fat man decides we should meet her by Volantis. Now that plan is in ruins as well.

“I have had enough of Illyrio’s plans. Robert Baratheon won the Iron Throne without the benefit of dragons. We can do the same. And if I am wrong and the realm does not rise for us, we can always retreat back across the narrow sea, as Bittersteel once did, and others after him.”

Strickland shook his head stubbornly. “The risk—”

“—is not what it was, now that Tywin Lannister is dead. The Seven Kingdoms will never be more ripe for conquest. Another boy king sits the Iron Throne, this one even younger than the last, and rebels are thick upon the ground as autumn leaves.”

ADWD Tyrion VI

“And when the pisswater prince was safely dead, the eunuch smuggled you across the narrow sea to his fat friend the cheesemonger, who hid you on a poleboat and found an exile lord willing to call himself your father. It does make for a splendid story, and the singers will make much of your escape once you take the Iron Throne … assuming that our fair Daenerys takes you for her consort.”

“She will. She must.”

“Must?” Tyrion made a tsking sound. “That is not a word queens like to hear. You are her perfect prince, agreed, bright and bold and comely as any maid could wish. Daenerys Targaryen is no maid, however. She is the widow of a Dothraki khal, a mother of dragons and sacker of cities, Aegon the Conqueror with teats. She may not prove as willing as you wish.”

“She’ll be willing.” Prince Aegon sounded shocked. It was plain that he had never before considered the possibility that his bride-to-be might refuse him. “You don’t know her.” He picked up his heavy horse and put it down with a thump.

The dwarf shrugged. “I know that she spent her childhood in exile, impoverished, living on dreams and schemes, running from one city to the next, always fearful, never safe, friendless but for a brother who was by all accounts half-mad … a brother who sold her maidenhood to the Dothraki for the promise of an army. I know that somewhere out upon the grass her dragons hatched, and so did she. I know she is proud. How not? What else was left her but pride? I know she is strong. How not? The Dothraki despise weakness. If Daenerys had been weak, she would have perished with Viserys. I know she is fierce. Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen are proof enough of that. She has crossed the grasslands and the red waste, survived assassins and conspiracies and fell sorceries, grieved for a brother and a husband and a son, trod the cities of the slavers to dust beneath her dainty sandaled feet. Now, how do you suppose this queen will react when you turn up with your begging bowl in hand and say, ‘Good morrow to you, Auntie. I am your nephew, Aegon, returned from the dead. I’ve been hiding on a poleboat all my life, but now I’ve washed the blue dye from my hair and I’d like a dragon, please … and oh, did I mention, my claim to the Iron Throne is stronger than your own?’ ”

Aegon’s mouth twisted in fury. “I will not come to my aunt a beggar. I will come to her a kinsman, with an army.”

“A small army.” There, that’s made him good and angry. The dwarf could not help but think of Joffrey. I have a gift for angering princes. “Queen Daenerys has a large one, and no thanks to you.” Tyrion moved his crossbows.

“Say what you want. She will be my bride, Lord Connington will see to it. I trust him as much as if he were my own blood.”

~

“But,” Prince Aegon said, “without Daenerys and her dragons, how could we hope to win?”

“You do not need to win,” Tyrion told him. “All you need to do is raise your banners, rally your supporters, and hold, until Daenerys arrives to join her strength to yours.”

“You said she might not have me.”

“Perhaps I overstated. She may take pity on you when you come begging for her hand.” The dwarf shrugged. “Do you want to wager your throne upon a woman’s whim? Go to Westeros, though … ah, then you are a rebel, not a beggar. Bold, reckless, a true scion of House Targaryen, walking in the footsteps of Aegon the Conqueror. A dragon.

“I told you, I know our little queen. Let her hear that her brother Rhaegar’s murdered son is still alive, that this brave boy has raised the dragon standard of her forebears in Westeros once more, that he is fighting a desperate war to avenge his father and reclaim the Iron Throne for House Targaryen, hard-pressed on every side … and she will fly to your side as fast as wind and water can carry her. You are the last of her line, and this Mother of Dragons, this Breaker of Chains, is above all a rescuer. The girl who drowned the slaver cities in blood rather than leave strangers to their chains can scarcely abandon her own brother’s son in his hour of peril. And when she reaches Westeros, and meets you for the first time, you will meet as equals, man and woman, not queen and supplicant. How can she help but love you then, I ask you?”

~

“Then rouse him. We have tidings he’d best hear. The queen’s name is on every tongue in Selhorys. They say she still sits in Meereen, sore beset. If the talk in the markets can be believed, Old Volantis will soon join the war against her.”

Haldon pursed his lips. “The gossip of fishmongers is not to be relied on. Still, I suppose Griff will want to hear. You know how he is.” The Halfmaester went below.

The girl never started for the west. No doubt she had good reasons. Between Meereen and Volantis lay five hundred leagues of deserts, mountains, swamps, and ruins, plus Mantarys with its sinister repute. A city of monsters, they say, but if she marches overland, where else is she to turn for food and water? The sea would be swifter, but if she does not have the ships …

~

“That was another age. Come, we’d best hear what that priest is going on about. I swear I heard the name Daenerys.”

Across the square they joined the growing throng outside the red temple. With the locals towering above him on every hand, the little man found it hard to see much beyond their arses. He could hear most every word the priest was saying, but that was not to say he understood them. “Do you understand what he is saying?” he asked Haldon in the Common Tongue.

“I would if I did not have a dwarf piping in my ear.”

“I do not pipe.” Tyrion crossed his arms and looked behind him, studying the faces of the men and women who had stopped to listen. Everywhere he turned, he saw tattoos. Slaves. Four of every five of them are slaves.

“The priest is calling on the Volantenes to go to war,” the Halfmaester told him, “but on the side of right, as soldiers of the Lord of Light, R’hllor who made the sun and stars and fights eternally against the darkness. Nyessos and Malaquo have turned away from the light, he says, their hearts darkened by the yellow harpies from the east. He says …”

“Dragons. I understood that word. He said dragons.”

“Aye. The dragons have come to carry her to glory.”

“Her. Daenerys?”

Haldon nodded. “Benerro has sent forth the word from Volantis. Her coming is the fulfillment of an ancient prophecy. From smoke and salt was she born to make the world anew. She is Azor Ahai returned … and her triumph over darkness will bring a summer that will never end … death itself will bend its knee, and all those who die fighting in her cause shall be reborn …”

“Do I have to be reborn in this same body?” asked Tyrion. The crowd was growing thicker. He could feel them pressing in around them. “Who is Benerro?”

Haldon raised an eyebrow. “High Priest of the red temple in Volantis. Flame of Truth, Light of Wisdom, First Servant of the Lord of Light, Slave of R’hllor.”

The only red priest Tyrion had ever known was Thoros of Myr, the portly, genial, wine-stained roisterer who had loitered about Robert’s court swilling the king’s finest vintages and setting his sword on fire for mêlées. “Give me priests who are fat and corrupt and cynical,” he told Haldon, “the sort who like to sit on soft satin cushions, nibble sweetmeats, and diddle little boys. It’s the ones who believe in gods who make the trouble.”

~

“What news from downriver? Will it be war?”

Qavo shrugged. “The Yunkai’i would have it so. They style themselves the Wise Masters. Of their wisdom I cannot speak, but they do not lack for cunning. Their envoy came to us with chests of gold and gems and two hundred slaves, nubile girls and smooth-skinned boys trained in the way of the seven sighs. I am told his feasts are memorable and his bribes lavish.”

“The Yunkishmen have bought your triarchs?”

“Only Nyessos.” Qavo removed the screen and studied the placement of Tyrion’s army. “Malaquo may be old and toothless, but he is a tiger still, and Doniphos will not be returned as triarch. The city thirsts for war.”

“Why?” wondered Tyrion. “Meereen is long leagues across the sea. How has this sweet child queen offended Old Volantis?”

“Sweet?” Qavo laughed. “If even half the stories coming back from Slaver’s Bay are true, this child is a monster. They say that she is blood-thirsty, that those who speak against her are impaled on spikes to die lingering deaths. They say she is a sorceress who feeds her dragons on the flesh of newborn babes, an oathbreaker who mocks the gods, breaks truces, threatens envoys, and turns on those who have served her loyally. They say her lust cannot be sated, that she mates with men, women, eunuchs, even dogs and children, and woe betide the lover who fails to satisfy her. She gives her body to men to take their souls in thrall.”

Oh, good, thought Tyrion. If she gives her body to me, she is welcome to my soul, small and stunted though it is.

“They say,” said Haldon. “By they, you mean the slavers, the exiles she drove from Astapor and Meereen. Mere calumnies.”

“The best calumnies are spiced with truth,” suggested Qavo, “but the girl’s true sin cannot be denied. This arrogant child has taken it upon herself to smash the slave trade, but that traffic was never confined to Slaver’s Bay. It was part of the sea of trade that spanned the world, and the dragon queen has clouded the water. Behind the Black Wall, lords of ancient blood sleep poorly, listening as their kitchen slaves sharpen their long knives. Slaves grow our food, clean our streets, teach our young. They guard our walls, row our galleys, fight our battles. And now when they look east, they see this young queen shining from afar, this breaker of chains. The Old Blood cannot suffer that. Poor men hate her too. Even the vilest beggar stands higher than a slave. This dragon queen would rob him of that consolation.”

Tyrion advanced his spearmen. Qavo replied with his light horse. Tyrion moved his crossbowmen up a square and said, “The red priest outside seemed to think Volantis should fight for this silver queen, not against her.”

“The red priests would be wise to hold their tongues,” said Qavo Nogarys. “Already there has been fighting between their followers and those who worship other gods. Benerro’s rantings will only serve to bring a savage wrath down upon his head.”

“What rantings?” the dwarf asked, toying with his rabble.

The Volantene waved a hand. “In Volantis, thousands of slaves and freedmen crowd the temple plaza every night to hear Benerro shriek of bleeding stars and a sword of fire that will cleanse the world. He has been preaching that Volantis will surely burn if the triarchs take up arms against the silver queen.”

“That’s a prophecy even I could make. Ah, supper.”

Supper was a plate of roasted goat served on a bed of sliced onions. The meat was spiced and fragrant, charred outside and red and juicy within. Tyrion plucked at a piece. It was so hot it burned his fingers, but so good he could not help but reach for another chunk. He washed it down with the pale green Volantene liquor, the closest thing he’d had to wine for ages. “Very good,” he said, plucking up his dragon. “The most powerful piece in the game,” he announced, as he removed one of Qavo’s elephants. “And Daenerys Targaryen has three, it’s said.”

“Three,” Qavo allowed, “against thrice three thousand enemies. Grazdan mo Eraz was not the only envoy sent out from the Yellow City. When the Wise Masters move against Meereen, the legions of New Ghis will fight beside them. Tolosi. Elyrians. Even the Dothraki.”

~

“You’re mine, Hugor.”

Tyrion could no more outrun him than outfight him. Drunk as he was, he could not even hope to outwit him. He spread his hands. “And what do you mean to do with me?”

“Deliver you,” the knight said, “to the queen.”

ADWD Davos II

The old fellow made a face. “Prince Viserys weren’t the only dragon, were he? Are we sure they killed Prince Rhaegar’s son? A babe, he was.”

“Wasn’t there some princess too?” asked a whore. She was the same one who’d said the meat was grey.

“Two,” said the old fellow. “One was Rhaegar’s daughter, t’other was his sister.”

“Daena,” said the riverman. “That was the sister. Daena of Dragon-stone. Or was it Daera?”

“Daena was old King Baelor’s wife,” said the oarsman. “I rowed on a ship named for her once. The Princess Daena.”

“If she was a king’s wife, she’d be a queen.”

“Baelor never had a queen. He was holy.”

“Don’t mean he never wed his sister,” said the whore. “He just never bedded her, is all. When they made him king, he locked her up in a tower. His other sisters too. There was three.”

“Daenela,” the proprietor said loudly. “That was her name. The Mad King’s daughter, I mean, not Baelor’s bloody wife.”

“Daenerys,” Davos said. “She was named for the Daenerys who wed the Prince of Dorne during the reign of Daeron the Second. I don’t know what became of her.”

"I do," said the man who'd started all the talk of dragons, a Braavosi oarsman in a somber woolen jack. "When we were down to Pentos we moored beside a trader called the Sloe-Eyed Maid, and I got to drinking with her captain's steward. He told me a pretty tale about some slip of a girl who come aboard in Qarth, to try and book passage back to Westeros for her and three dragons. Silver hair she had, and purple eyes. 'I took her to the captain my own self,' this steward swore to me, 'but he wasn't having none of that. There's more profit in cloves and saffron, he tells me, and spices won't set fire to your sails.' "

ADWD Tyrion III

Griff ignored the request. Instead he touched the letter to the candle flame and watched the parchment blacken, curl, and flare up. “There is blood between Targaryen and Lannister. Why would you support the cause of Queen Daenerys?”

“For gold and glory,” the dwarf said cheerfully. “Oh, and hate. If you had ever met my sister, you would understand.”

ADWD The Merchant's Man

That was before Prince Doran had summoned him to the Water Gardens. And now the most beautiful woman in the world was waiting in Meereen, and he meant to do his duty and claim her for his bride. She will not refuse me. She will honor the agreement. Daenerys Targaryen would need Dorne to win the Seven Kingdoms, and that meant that she would need him. It does not mean that she will love me, though. She may not even like me.

~

“Perhaps your silver queen would like a monkey,” said Gerris.

Quentyn had no idea what Daenerys Targaryen might like. He had promised his father that he would bring her back to Dorne, but more and more he wondered if he was equal to the task.

~

“And if Daenerys is dead before we reach her?” Quentyn said. “We must have a ship. Even if it is Adventure.”

Gerris laughed. “You must be more desperate for Daenerys than I knew if you’d endure that stench for months on end. After three days, I’d be begging them to murder me. No, my prince, I pray you, not Adventure.”

ADWD Tyrion II

“How many days until we reach the river?” he asked Illyrio that evening. “At this pace, your queen’s dragons will be larger than Aegon’s three before I can lay eyes upon them.”

“Would it were so. A large dragon is more fearsome than a small one.” The magister shrugged. “Much as it would please me to welcome Queen Daenerys to Volantis, I must rely on you and Griff for that. I can serve her best in Pentos, smoothing the way for her return. So long as I am with you, though … well, an old fat man must have his comforts, yes? Come, drink a cup of wine.”

“Tell me,” Tyrion said as he drank, “why should a magister of Pentos give three figs who wears the crown in Westeros? Where is the gain for you in this venture, my lord?”

The fat man dabbed grease from his lips. “I am an old man, grown weary of this world and its treacheries. Is it so strange that I should wish to do some good before my days are done, to help a sweet young girl regain her birthright?”

Next you will be offering me a suit of magic armor and a palace in Valyria. “If Daenerys is no more than a sweet young girl, the Iron Throne will cut her into sweet young pieces.”

“Fear not, my little friend. The blood of Aegon the Dragon flows in her veins.”

Along with the blood of Aegon the Unworthy, Maegor the Cruel, and Baelor the Befuddled. “Tell me more of her.”

The fat man grew pensive. “Daenerys was half a child when she came to me, yet fairer even than my second wife, so lovely I was tempted to claim her for myself. Such a fearful, furtive thing, however, I knew I should get no joy from coupling with her. Instead I summoned a bed-warmer and fucked her vigorously until the madness passed. If truth be told, I did not think Daenerys would survive for long amongst the horselords.”

“That did not stop you selling her to Khal Drogo …”

“Dothraki neither buy nor sell. Say rather that her brother Viserys gave her to Drogo to win the khal’s friendship. A vain young man, and greedy. Viserys lusted for his father’s throne, but he lusted for Daenerys too, and was loath to give her up. The night before the princess wed he tried to steal into her bed, insisting that if he could not have her hand, he would claim her maidenhead. Had I not taken the precaution of posting guards upon her door, Viserys might have undone years of planning.”

“He sounds an utter fool.”

“Viserys was Mad Aerys’s son, just so. Daenerys … Daenerys is quite different.” He popped a roasted lark into his mouth and crunched it noisily, bones and all. “The frightened child who sheltered in my manse died on the Dothraki sea, and was reborn in blood and fire. This dragon queen who wears her name is a true Targaryen. When I sent ships to bring her home, she turned toward Slaver’s Bay. In a short span of days she conquered Astapor, made Yunkai bend the knee, and sacked Meereen. Mantarys will be next, if she marches west along the old Valyrian roads. If she comes by sea, well … her fleet must take on food and water at Volantis.”

~

“For that matter, why would you? Slavery may be forbidden by the laws of Pentos, yet you have a finger in that trade as well, and maybe a whole hand. And yet you conspire for the dragon queen, and not against her. Why? What do you hope to gain from Queen Daenerys?”

“Are we back to that again? You are a persistent little man.” Illyrio gave a laugh and slapped his belly. “As you will. The Beggar King swore that I should be his master of coin, and a lordly lord as well. Once he wore his golden crown, I should have my choice of castles … even Casterly Rock, if I desired.”

Tyrion snorted wine back up the scarred stump that had been his nose. “My father would have loved to hear that.”

“Your lord father had no cause for concern. Why would I want a rock? My manse is large enough for any man, and more comfortable than your drafty Westerosi castles. Master of coin, though …” The fat man peeled another egg. “I am fond of coins. Is there any sound as sweet as the clink of gold on gold?”

A sister’s screams. “Are you quite certain that Daenerys will make good her brother’s promises?”

“She will, or she will not.” Illyrio bit the egg in half. “I told you, my little friend, not all that a man does is done for gain. Believe as you wish, but even fat old fools like me have friends, and debts of affection to repay.”

Liar, thought Tyrion. There is something in this venture worth more to you than coin or castles.

~

“I dreamed about the queen,” he said. “I was on my knees before her, swearing my allegiance, but she mistook me for my brother, Jaime, and fed me to her dragons.”

“Let us hope this dream was not prophetic. You are a clever imp, just as Varys said, and Daenerys will have need of clever men about her. Ser Barristan is a valiant knight and true; but none, I think, has ever called him cunning.”

“Knights know only one way to solve a problem. They couch their lances and charge. A dwarf has a different way of looking at the world. What of you, though? You are a clever man yourself.”

“You flatter me.” Illyrio waggled his hand. “Alas, I am not made for travel, so I will send you to Daenerys in my stead. You did Her Grace a great service when you slew your father, and it is my hope that you will do her many more. Daenerys is not the fool her brother was. She will make good use of you.”

~

“Our last news of Queen Daenerys is old and stale, I fear. By now she will have left Meereen, we must assume. She has her host at last, a ragged host of sellswords, Dothraki horselords, and Unsullied infantry, and she will no doubt lead them west, to take back her father’s throne.” Magister Illyrio twisted open a pot of garlic snails, sniffed at them, and smiled. “At Volantis, you will have fresh tidings of Daenerys, we must hope,” he said, as he sucked one from its shell. “Dragons and young girls are both capricious, and it may be that you will need to adjust your plans. Griff will know what to do. Will you have a snail? The garlic is from my own gardens.”

I could ride a snail and make a better pace than this litter of yours. Tyrion waved the dish away. “You place a deal of trust in this man Griff. Another friend of your childhood?”

“No. A sellsword, you would call him, but Westerosi born. Daenerys needs men worthy of her cause.”

~

“Black or red, a dragon is still a dragon. When Maelys the Monstrous died upon the Stepstones, it was the end of the male line of House Blackfyre.” The cheesemonger smiled through his forked beard. “And Daenerys will give the exiles what Bittersteel and the Blackfyres never could. She will take them home.”

A Feast for Crows

AFFC Samwell V

He held back only the secrets that he was sworn to keep, about Bran Stark and his companions and the babes Jon Snow had swapped. “Daenerys is the only hope,” he concluded. “Aemon said the Citadel must send her a maester at once, to bring her home to Westeros before it is too late.”

~

“Maester Aemon believed that Daenerys Targaryen was the fulfillment of a prophecy ... her, not Stannis, nor Prince Rhaegar, nor the princeling whose head was dashed against the wall.”

“Born amidst salt and smoke, beneath a bleeding star. I know the prophecy.” Marwyn turned his head and spat a gob of red phlegm onto the floor. “Not that I would trust it. Gorghan of Old Ghis once wrote that a prophecy is like a treacherous woman. She takes your member in her mouth, and you moan with the pleasure of it and think, how sweet, how fine, how good this is ... and then her teeth snap shut and your moans turn to screams. That is the nature of prophecy, said Gorghan. Prophecy will bite your prick off every time.” He chewed a bit. “Still ...”

Alleras stepped up next to Sam. “Aemon would have gone to her if he had the strength. He wanted us to send a maester to her, to counsel her and protect her and fetch her safely home.”

AFFC The Princess in the Tower

“...He has gone to bring us back our heart’s desire.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What is our heart’s desire?”

“Vengeance.” His voice was soft, as if he were afraid that someone might be listening. “Justice.” Prince Doran pressed the onyx dragon into her palm with his swollen, gouty fingers, and whispered, “Fire and blood.”

AFFC Samwell IV

“No one ever looked for a girl,” he said. “It was a prince that was promised, not a princess. Rhaegar, I thought ... the smoke was from the fire that devoured Summerhall on the day of his birth, the salt from the tears shed for those who died. He shared my belief when he was young, but later he became persuaded that it was his own son who fulfilled the prophecy, for a comet had been seen above King’s Landing on the night Aegon was conceived, and Rhaegar was certain the bleeding star had to be a comet. What fools we were, who thought ourselves so wise! The error crept in from the translation. Dragons are neither male nor female, Barth saw the truth of that, but now one and now the other, as changeable as flame. The language misled us all for a thousand years. Daenerys is the one, born amidst salt and smoke. The dragons prove it.” Just talking of her seemed to make him stronger. “I must go to her. I must. Would that I was even ten years younger.”

~

“I will add my voice to yours, maester. We will both tell them, the two of us together.”

“No,” the old man said. “It must be you. Tell them. The prophecy ... my brother’s dream ... Lady Melisandre has misread the signs. Stannis ... Stannis has some of the dragon blood in him, yes. His brothers did as well. Rhaelle, Egg’s little girl, she was how they came by it ... their father’s mother ... she used to call me Uncle Maester when she was a little girl. I remembered that, so I allowed myself to hope ... perhaps I wanted to ... we all deceive ourselves, when we want to believe. Melisandre most of all, I think. The sword is wrong, she has to know that . . . light without heat ... an empty glamor ... the sword is wrong, and the false light can only lead us deeper into darkness, Sam. Daenerys is our hope. Tell them that, at the Citadel. Make them listen. They must send her a maester. Daenerys must be counseled, taught, protected. For all these years I’ve lingered, waiting, watching, and now that the day has dawned I am too old. I am dying, Sam.”

AFFC Cat of the Canals

Sometimes she brought back sailor’s tales, of strange and wondrous happenings from the wide wet world beyond the isles of Braavos, wars and rains of toads and dragons hatching.

AFFC The Reaver

“It was not the god who spoke. Euron is known to keep wizards and foul sorcerers on that red ship of his. They sent some spell among us, so we could not hear the sea. The captains and the kings were drunk with all this talk of dragons.”

“Drunk, and fearful of that horn. You heard the sound it made. It makes no matter. Euron is our king.”

~

“It is daring to sail out of sight of land, so no word of our coming could reach these islands before us,” he growled, “but crossing half the world to hunt for dragons, that is something else.”

~

“A king must have a wife, to give him heirs. Brother, I have need of you. Will you go to Slaver’s Bay and bring my love to me?”

~

“No, to make an heir that’s worthy of him, I need a different woman. When the kraken weds the dragon, brother, let all the world beware.”

“What dragon?” said Victarion, frowning.

“The last of her line. They say she is the fairest woman in the world. Her hair is silver-gold, and her eyes are amethysts ... but you need not take my word for it, brother. Go to Slaver’s Bay, behold her beauty, and bring her back to me.”

“Why should I?” Victarion demanded.

“For love. For duty. Because your king commands it.” Euron chuckled. “And for the Seastone Chair. It is yours, once I claim the Iron Throne. You shall follow me as I followed Balon ... and your own trueborn sons shall one day follow you.”

My own sons. But to have a trueborn son a man must first have a wife. Victarion had no luck with wives. Euron’s gifts are poisoned, he reminded himself, but still ...

“The choice is yours, brother. Live a thrall or die a king. Do you dare to fly? Unless you take the leap, you’ll never know.”

Euron’s smiling eye was bright with mockery. “Or do I ask too much of you? It is a fearsome thing to sail beyond Valyria.”

“I could sail the Iron Fleet to hell if need be.” When Victarion opened his hand, his palm was red with blood. “I’ll go to Slaver’s Bay, aye. I’ll find this dragon woman, and I’ll bring her back.” But not for you. You stole my wife and despoiled her, so I’ll have yours. The fairest woman in the world, for me.

AFFC The Drowned Man

“Aegon Targaryen conquered Westeros with dragons.”

“And so shall we,” Euron Greyjoy promised. “That horn you heard I found amongst the smoking ruins that were Valyria, where no man has dared to walk but me. You heard its call, and felt its power. It is a dragon horn, bound with bands of red gold and Valyrian steel graven with enchantments. The dragonlords of old sounded such horns, before the Doom devoured them. With this horn, ironmen, I can bind dragons to my will.”

Asha laughed aloud. “A horn to bind goats to your will would be of more use, Crow’s Eye. There are no more dragons.”

“Again, girl, you are wrong. There are three, and I know where to find them. Surely that is worth a driftwood crown.”

 AFFC Cersei V

“Do you have any news of more import?”

“The slave revolt in Astapor has spread to Meereen, it would seem. Sailors off a dozen ships speak of dragons ...”

“Harpies. It is harpies in Meereen.” She remembered that from somewhere. Meereen was at the far end of the world, out east beyond Valyria. “Let the slaves revolt. Why should I care? We keep no slaves in Westeros. Is that all you have for me?”

AFFC The Queenmaker

If the sailors could be believed, the east was seething with wonders and terrors: a slave revolt in Astapor, dragons in Qarth, grey plague in Yi Ti. A new corsair king had risen in the Basilisk Isles and raided Tall Trees Town, and in Qohor followers of the red priests had rioted and tried to burn down the Black Goat.

AFFC Cersei IV

I hesitate to take up the council’s time with trifles, but there has been some queer talk heard along the docks of late. Sailors from the east. They speak of dragons ...”

“... and manticores, no doubt, and bearded snarks?” Cersei chuckled. “Come back to me when you hear talk of dwarfs, my lord.”

AFFC Prologue

“The dragon has three heads,” he announced in his soft Dornish drawl.

“Is this a riddle?” Roone wanted to know. “Sphinxes always speak in riddles in the tales.”

“No riddle.” [...]

“No dragon has ever had three heads except on shields and banners,” Armen the Acolyte said firmly. “That was a heraldic charge, no more. Furthermore, the Targaryens are all dead.”

“Not all,” said Alleras. “The Beggar King had a sister.”

“I thought her head was smashed against a wall,” said Roone.

“No,” said Alleras. “It was Prince Rhaegar’s young son Aegon whose head was dashed against the wall by the Lion of Lannister’s brave men. We speak of Rhaegar’s sister, born on Dragonstone before its fall. The one they called Daenerys.”

“The Stormborn. I recall her now.” Mollander lifted his tankard high, sloshing the cider that remained. “Here’s to her!” He gulped, slammed his empty tankard down, belched, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Where’s Rosey? Our rightful queen deserves another round of cider, wouldn’t you say?”

A Storm of Swords

ASOS Tyrion III

The eunuch drew a parchment from his sleeve. “A kraken has been seen off the Fingers.” He giggled. “Not a Greyjoy, mind you, a true kraken. It attacked an Ibbenese whaler and pulled it under. There is fighting on the Stepstones, and a new war between Tyrosh and Lys seems likely. Both hope to win Myr as ally. Sailors back from the Jade Sea report that a three-headed dragon has hatched in Qarth, and is the wonder of that city—”

“Dragons and krakens do not interest me, regardless of the number of their heads,” said Lord Tywin. “Have your whisperers perchance found some trace of my brother’s son?”

“Alas, our beloved Tyrek has quite vanished, the poor brave lad.” Varys sounded close to tears.

“Tywin,” Ser Kevan said, before Lord Tywin could vent his obvious displeasure, “some of the gold cloaks who deserted during the battle have drifted back to barracks, thinking to take up duty once again. Ser Addam wishes to know what to do with them.”

“They might have endangered Joff with their cowardice,” Cersei said at once. “I want them put to death.”

Varys sighed. “They have surely earned death, Your Grace, none can deny it. And yet, perhaps we might be wiser to send them to the Night’s Watch. We have had disturbing messages from the Wall of late. Of wildlings astir ...”

“Wildlings, krakens, and dragons.” Mace Tyrell chuckled. “Why, is there anyone not stirring?”

A Clash of Kings

ACOK Bran I

“Wolves often howl at the moon. These are howling at the comet. See how bright it is, Bran? Perchance they think it is the moon.”

 When Bran repeated that to Osha, she laughed aloud. “Your wolves have more wit than your maester,” the wildling woman said. “They know truths the grey man has forgotten.” The way she said it made him shiver, and when he asked what the comet meant, she answered, “Blood and fire, boy, and nothing sweet.”

 Bran asked Septon Chayle about the comet while they were sorting through some scrolls snatched from the library fire. “It is the sword that slays the season,” he replied, and soon after the white raven came from Oldtown bringing word of autumn, so doubtless he was right.

 Though Old Nan did not think so, and she’d lived longer than any of them. “Dragons,” she said, lifting her head and sniffing. She was near blind and could not see the comet, yet she claimed she could smell it. “It be dragons, boy,” she insisted. 

A Game of Thrones

AGOT Eddard XIII

“The girl. Daenerys. Only a child, you were right … that’s why, the girl … the gods sent the boar … sent to punish me …” The king coughed, bringing up blood. “Wrong, it was wrong, I … only a girl … Varys, Littlefinger, even my brother … worthless … no one to tell me no but you, Ned … only you …” He lifted his hand, the gesture pained and feeble. “Paper and ink. There, on the table. Write what I tell you.”

~

“The girl,” the king said. “Daenerys. Let her live. If you can, if it … not too late … talk to them … Varys, Littlefinger … don’t let them kill her. And help my son, Ned. Make him be … better than me.”

~

Certainly Varys had once been young. Ned doubted that he had ever been innocent. “You mention children. Robert had a change of heart concerning Daenerys Targaryen. Whatever arrangements you made, I want unmade. At once.”

“Alas,” said Varys. “At once may be too late. I fear those birds have flown. But I shall do what I can, my lord. With your leave.”

AGOT Eddard X

“The Targaryen girl—”

The king groaned. “Seven hells, don’t start with her again. That’s done, I’ll hear no more of it.”

“Why would you want me as your Hand, if you refuse to listen to my counsel?”

“Why?” Robert laughed. “Why not? Someone has to rule this damnable kingdom.”

AGOT Eddard VIII

“Robert, I beg of you,” Ned pleaded, “hear what you are saying. You are talking of murdering a child.”

“The whore is pregnant!” The king’s fist slammed down on the council table loud as a thunderclap. “I warned you this would happen, Ned. Back in the barrowlands, I warned you, but you did not care to hear it. Well, you’ll hear it now. I want them dead, mother and child both, and that fool Viserys as well. Is that plain enough for you? I want them dead.”

The other councillors were all doing their best to pretend that they were somewhere else. No doubt they were wiser than he was. Eddard Stark had seldom felt quite so alone. “You will dishonor yourself forever if you do this.”

“Then let it be on my head, so long as it is done. I am not so blind that I cannot see the shadow of the axe when it is hanging over my own neck.”

“There is no axe,” Ned told his king. “Only the shadow of a shadow, twenty years removed … if it exists at all.”

“If?” Varys asked softly, wringing powdered hands together. “My lord, you wrong me. Would I bring lies to king and council?”

Ned looked at the eunuch coldly. “You would bring us the whisperings of a traitor half a world away, my lord. Perhaps Mormont is wrong. Perhaps he is lying.”

“Ser Jorah would not dare deceive me,” Varys said with a sly smile. “Rely on it, my lord. The princess is with child.”

“So you say. If you are wrong, we need not fear. If the girl miscarries, we need not fear. If she births a daughter in place of a son, we need not fear. If the babe dies in infancy, we need not fear.”

“But if it is a boy?” Robert insisted. “If he lives?”

“The narrow sea would still lie between us. I shall fear the Dothraki the day they teach their horses to run on water.”

The king took a swallow of wine and glowered at Ned across the council table. “So you would counsel me to do nothing until the dragonspawn has landed his army on my shores, is that it?”

“This ‘dragonspawn’ is in his mother’s belly,” Ned said. “Even Aegon did no conquering until after he was weaned.”

“Gods! You are stubborn as an aurochs, Stark.” The king looked around the council table. “Have the rest of you mislaid your tongues? Will no one talk sense to this frozen-faced fool?”

Varys gave the king an unctuous smile and laid a soft hand on Ned’s sleeve. “I understand your qualms, Lord Eddard, truly I do. It gave me no joy to bring this grievous news to council. It is a terrible thing we contemplate, a vile thing. Yet we who presume to rule must do vile things for the good of the realm, howevermuch it pains us.”

Lord Renly shrugged. “The matter seems simple enough to me. We ought to have had Viserys and his sister killed years ago, but His Grace my brother made the mistake of listening to Jon Arryn.”

“Mercy is never a mistake, Lord Renly,” Ned replied. “On the Trident, Ser Barristan here cut down a dozen good men, Robert’s friends and mine. When they brought him to us, grievously wounded and near death, Roose Bolton urged us to cut his throat, but your brother said, ‘I will not kill a man for loyalty, nor for fighting well,’ and sent his own maester to tend Ser Barristan’s wounds.” He gave the king a long cool look. “Would that man were here today.”

Robert had shame enough to blush. “It was not the same,” he complained. “Ser Barristan was a knight of the Kingsguard.”

“Whereas Daenerys is a fourteen-year-old girl.” Ned knew he was pushing this well past the point of wisdom, yet he could not keep silent. “Robert, I ask you, what did we rise against Aerys Targaryen for, if not to put an end to the murder of children?”

“To put an end to Targaryens!” the king growled.

“Your Grace, I never knew you to fear Rhaegar.” Ned fought to keep the scorn out of his voice, and failed. “Have the years so unmanned you that you tremble at the shadow of an unborn child?”

Robert purpled. “No more, Ned,” he warned, pointing. “Not another word. Have you forgotten who is king here?”

“No, Your Grace,” Ned replied. “Have you?”

“Enough!” the king bellowed. “I am sick of talk. I’ll be done with this, or be damned. What say you all?”

“She must be killed,” Lord Renly declared.

“We have no choice,” murmured Varys. “Sadly, sadly …”

Ser Barristan Selmy raised his pale blue eyes from the table and said, “Your Grace, there is honor in facing an enemy on the battlefield, but none in killing him in his mother’s womb. Forgive me, but I must stand with Lord Eddard.”

Grand Maester Pycelle cleared his throat, a process that seemed to take some minutes. “My order serves the realm, not the ruler. Once I counseled King Aerys as loyally as I counsel King Robert now, so I bear this girl child of his no ill will. Yet I ask you this—should war come again, how many soldiers will die? How many towns will burn? How many children will be ripped from their mothers to perish on the end of a spear?” He stroked his luxuriant white beard, infinitely sad, infinitely weary. “Is it not wiser, even kinder, that Daenerys Targaryen should die now so that tens of thousands might live?”

“Kinder,” Varys said. “Oh, well and truly spoken, Grand Maester. It is so true. Should the gods in their caprice grant Daenerys Targaryen a son, the realm must bleed.”

Littlefinger was the last. As Ned looked to him, Lord Petyr stifled a yawn. “When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, the best thing to do is close your eyes and get on with it,” he declared. “Waiting won’t make the maid any prettier. Kiss her and be done with it.”

“Kiss her?” Ser Barristan repeated, aghast.

“A steel kiss,” said Littlefinger.

Robert turned to face his Hand. “Well, there it is, Ned. You and Selmy stand alone on this matter. The only question that remains is, who can we find to kill her?”

“Mormont craves a royal pardon,” Lord Renly reminded them.

“Desperately,” Varys said, “yet he craves life even more. By now, the princess nears Vaes Dothrak, where it is death to draw a blade. If I told you what the Dothraki would do to the poor man who used one on a khaleesi, none of you would sleep tonight.” He stroked a powdered cheek. “Now, poison … the tears of Lys, let us say. Khal Drogo need never know it was not a natural death.”

Grand Maester Pycelle’s sleepy eyes flicked open. He squinted suspiciously at the eunuch.

“Poison is a coward’s weapon,” the king complained.

Ned had heard enough. “You send hired knives to kill a fourteen-year-old girl and still quibble about honor?” He pushed back his chair and stood. “Do it yourself, Robert. The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. Look her in the eyes before you kill her. See her tears, hear her last words. You owe her that much at least.”

“Gods,” the king swore, the word exploding out of him as if he could barely contain his fury. “You mean it, damn you.” He reached for the flagon of wine at his elbow, found it empty, and flung it away to shatter against the wall. “I am out of wine and out of patience. Enough of this. Just have it done.”

“I will not be part of murder, Robert. Do as you will, but do not ask me to fix my seal to it.”

~

“After you stormed out, it was left to me to convince them not to hire the Faceless Men,” he continued blithely. “Instead Varys will quietly let it be known that we’ll make a lord of whoever does in the Targaryen girl.”

Ned was disgusted. “So now we grant titles to assassins.”

Littlefinger shrugged. “Titles are cheap. The Faceless Men are expensive. If truth be told, I did the Targaryen girl more good than you with all your talk of honor. Let some sellsword drunk on visions of lordship try to kill her. Likely he’ll make a botch of it, and afterward the Dothraki will be on their guard. If we’d sent a Faceless Man after her, she’d be as good as buried.”

AGOT Eddard IV

“Why should Tyrion Lannister want Bran dead? The boy has never done him harm.”

“Do you Starks have nought but snow between your ears?” Littlefinger asked. “The Imp would never have acted alone.”

Ned rose and paced the length of the room. “If the queen had a role in this or, gods forbid, the king himself … no, I will not believe that.” Yet even as he said the words, he remembered that chill morning on the barrowlands, and Robert’s talk of sending hired knives after the Targaryen princess. He remembered Rhaegar’s infant son, the red ruin of his skull, and the way the king had turned away, as he had turned away in Darry’s audience hall not so long ago. He could still hear Sansa pleading, as Lyanna had pleaded once.

AGOT Eddard II

“Do you remember Ser Jorah Mormont?”

“Would that I might forget him,” Ned said bluntly. The Mormonts of Bear Island were an old house, proud and honorable, but their lands were cold and distant and poor. Ser Jorah had tried to swell the family coffers by selling some poachers to a Tyroshi slaver. As the Mormonts were bannermen to the Starks, his crime had dishonored the north. Ned had made the long journey west to Bear Island, only to find when he arrived that Jorah had taken ship beyond the reach of Ice and the king’s justice. Five years had passed since then.

“Ser Jorah is now in Pentos, anxious to earn a royal pardon that would allow him to return from exile,” Robert explained. “Lord Varys makes good use of him.”

“So the slaver has become a spy,” Ned said with distaste. He handed the letter back. “I would rather he become a corpse.”

“Varys tells me that spies are more useful than corpses,” Robert said. “Jorah aside, what do you make of his report?”

“Daenerys Targaryen has wed some Dothraki horselord. What of it? Shall we send her a wedding gift?”

The king frowned. “A knife, perhaps. A good sharp one, and a bold man to wield it.”

Ned did not feign surprise; Robert’s hatred of the Targaryens was a madness in him. He remembered the angry words they had exchanged when Tywin Lannister had presented Robert with the corpses of Rhaegar’s wife and children as a token of fealty. Ned had named that murder; Robert called it war. When he had protested that the young prince and princess were no more than babes, his new-made king had replied, “I see no babes. Only dragonspawn.” Not even Jon Arryn had been able to calm that storm. Eddard Stark had ridden out that very day in a cold rage, to fight the last battles of the war alone in the south. It had taken another death to reconcile them; Lyanna’s death, and the grief they had shared over her passing.

This time, Ned resolved to keep his temper. “Your Grace, the girl is scarcely more than a child. You are no Tywin Lannister, to slaughter innocents.” It was said that Rhaegar’s little girl had cried as they dragged her from beneath her bed to face the swords. The boy had been no more than a babe in arms, yet Lord Tywin’s soldiers had torn him from his mother’s breast and dashed his head against a wall.

“And how long will this one remain an innocent?” Robert’s mouth grew hard. “This child will soon enough spread her legs and start breeding more dragonspawn to plague me.”

“Nonetheless,” Ned said, “the murder of children … it would be vile … unspeakable …”

“Unspeakable?” the king roared. “What Aerys did to your brother Brandon was unspeakable. The way your lord father died, that was unspeakable. And Rhaegar … how many times do you think he raped your sister? How many hundreds of times?” His voice had grown so loud that his horse whinnied nervously beneath him. The king jerked the reins hard, quieting the animal, and pointed an angry finger at Ned. “I will kill every Targaryen I can get my hands on, until they are as dead as their dragons, and then I will piss on their graves.”

Ned knew better than to defy him when the wrath was on him. If the years had not quenched Robert’s thirst for revenge, no words of his would help. “You can’t get your hands on this one, can you?” he said quietly.

The king’s mouth twisted in a bitter grimace. “No, gods be cursed. Some pox-ridden Pentoshi cheesemonger had her brother and her walled up on his estate with pointy-hatted eunuchs all around them, and now he’s handed them over to the Dothraki. I should have had them both killed years ago, when it was easy to get at them, but Jon was as bad as you. More fool I, I listened to him.”

“Jon Arryn was a wise man and a good Hand.”

Robert snorted. The anger was leaving him as suddenly as it had come. “This Khal Drogo is said to have a hundred thousand men in his horde. What would Jon say to that?”

“He would say that even a million Dothraki are no threat to the realm, so long as they remain on the other side of the narrow sea,” Ned replied calmly. “The barbarians have no ships. They hate and fear the open sea.”

The king shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. “Perhaps. There are ships to be had in the Free Cities, though. I tell you, Ned, I do not like this marriage. There are still those in the Seven Kingdoms who call me Usurper. Do you forget how many houses fought for Targaryen in the war? They bide their time for now, but give them half a chance, they will murder me in my bed, and my sons with me. If the beggar king crosses with a Dothraki horde at his back, the traitors will join him.”

“He will not cross,” Ned promised. “And if by some mischance he does, we will throw him back into the sea. Once you choose a new Warden of the East—”

“He will not cross,” Ned promised. “And if by some mischance he does, we will throw him back into the sea. Once you choose a new Warden of the East—”

The king groaned. “For the last time, I will not name the Arryn boy Warden. I know the boy is your nephew, but with Targaryens climbing in bed with Dothraki, I would be mad to rest one quarter of the realm on the shoulders of a sickly child.”

AGOT Bran III

He lifted his eyes and saw clear across the narrow sea, to the Free Cities and the green Dothraki sea and beyond, to Vaes Dothrak under its mountain, to the fabled lands of the Jade Sea, to Asshai by the Shadow, where dragons stirred beneath the sunrise.

[istumpysk]

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Daenerys VII (Chapter 43)

Daario lay upon his stomach, the light linen coverlets tangled about his long legs, his face half-buried in the pillows.

Dany ran her hand down his back, tracing the line of his spine. His skin was smooth beneath her touch, almost hairless. His skin is silk and satin. She loved the feel of him beneath her fingers. She loved to run her fingers through his hair, to knead the ache from his calves after a long day in the saddle, to cup his cock and feel it harden against her palm.

It's time for Daenerys Targaryen's second great romance.

Apparently she'll have many in this series, while the actual romantic heroine will have none.

+.+.+

If she had been some ordinary woman, she would gladly have spent her whole life touching Daario, tracing his scars and making him tell her how he'd come by every one. I would give up my crown if he asked it of me, Dany thought … but he had not asked it, and never would. Daario might whisper words of love when the two of them were as one, but she knew it was the dragon queen he loved. If I gave up my crown, he would not want me. Besides, kings who lost their crowns oft lost their heads as well, and she could see no reason why it would be any different for a queen.

Maybe you shouldn't have a crown then.

I'll give her credit for that honest moment of reflection.

+.+.+

If I could, I would. Khal Drogo had been her sun-and-stars, but he had been dead so long that Daenerys had almost forgotten how it felt to love and be loved. Daario had helped her to remember. I was dead and he brought me back to life. I was asleep and he woke me. My brave captain. Even so, of late he grew too bold. On the day that he returned from his latest sortie, he had tossed the head of a Yunkish lord at her feet and kissed her in the hall for all the world to see, until Barristan Selmy pulled the two of them apart. Ser Grandfather had been so wroth that Dany feared blood might be shed. "We cannot wed, my love. You know why."

Ser Grandfather ... ouch. Daario influence has started.

+.+.+

"You are beautiful," she blurted as she watched him don his riding boots and lace them up. Some days he let her do that for him, but not today, it seemed. That's done with too.

Once again I'm torn.

"Let his mother and his sisters examine one another and share the special cake. I shall not be eating it. Nor shall I wash the noble Hizdahr's noble feet."

"Magnificence, you do not understand," protested Reznak. "The washing of the feet is hallowed by tradition. - Daenerys VI, ADWD

I have no issue with Daenerys refusing this tradition. My problem is she is more than willing to lace Daario's boots for him.

+.+.+

"Where are you going?"

"Out into your city," he said, "to drink a keg or two and pick a quarrel. It has been too long since I've killed a man. Might be I should seek out your betrothed."

Do we believe him?

+.+.+

"As my queen commands. Will you hold court today?"

"No. On the morrow I will be a woman wed, and Hizdahr will be king. Let him hold court. These are his people."

[...]

"Only a little, bright heart. Will you come hold court?"

"After my wedding, perhaps. After the peace."

Uh oh, is Daenerys already bored with her job?

His people. Hizdahr's people.

"Enough." Dany slapped the table. "No one will be left to die. You are all my people." Her dreams of home and love had blinded her. "I will not abandon Meereen to the fate of Astapor. It grieves me to say so, but Westeros must wait." - Daenerys III, ADWD

+.+.+

"This after that you speak of never comes. You should hold court. My new men do not believe that you are real. The ones who came over from the Windblown. Bred and born in Westeros, most of them, full of tales about Targaryens. They want to see one with their own eyes. The Frog has a gift for you."

[...]

"Oh, a clever frog. 'Give the gift to me.' " She threw the other pillow at him. "Would I have ever seen it?"

Daario stroked his gilded mustachio. "Would I steal from my sweet queen? If it were a gift worthy of you, I would have put it into your soft hands myself."

"As a token of your love?"

"As to that I will not say, but I told him that he could give it to you. You would not make a liar of Daario Naharis?" 

I'm sorry, am I understanding this exchange correctly? Did he just avoid saying he loves her? Lol

"You have not said you love me."

"I will, if it would please Your Radiance." - Daenerys IV, ADWD

+.+.+

Dany sat amongst the rumpled bedclothes with her arms about her knees, so forlorn that she did not hear when Missandei came creeping in with bread and milk and figs. 

Not only does Missandei keep interrupting Daenerys when she's contemplating betrayal, she also has a habit of sneaking up on Daenerys (and Barristan!) undetected.

"My queen?" said a soft voice in the darkness.

Dany flinched. "Who is there?"

"Only Missandei." The Naathi scribe moved closer to the bed. - Daenerys VIII, ADWD

x

Ser Barristan turned. "Missandei. Child. How long have you been standing there?" - The Queensguard, ADWD

What's going on here?

Arya. Arya Stark is what's going on here.

+.+.+

The prospect of wrestling with Meereen once more left her feeling weary. Sleep came hard, even when Daario came back, so drunk that he could hardly stand. Beneath her coverlets she tossed and turned, dreaming that Hizdahr was kissing her … but his lips were blue and bruised, and when he thrust himself inside her, his manhood was cold as ice. 

I prefer the Tyrion interpretation.

It was Lemore who forced the water from your lungs after Griff had pulled you up. You were as cold as ice, and your lips were blue. Yandry said we ought to throw you back, but the lad forbade it. - Tyrion VI, ADWD

But Euron works too. I'm not greedy.

+.+.+

She sat up with her hair disheveled and the bedclothes atangle. Her captain slept beside her, yet she was alone. 

Oh my goodness, soulmates not foils.

Even with Ygritte sleeping beside him, he felt alone. He did not want to die alone. - Jon V, ASOS

We can't compete with two people feeling alone.

+.+.+

Reznak mo Reznak bowed and beamed. "Magnificence, every day you grow more beautiful. I think the prospect of your wedding has given you a glow. Oh, my shining queen!"

Dany sighed. "Summon the first petitioner."

It had been so long since she last held court that the crush of cases was almost overwhelming. The back of the hall was a solid press of people, and scuffles broke out over precedence. 

And why were you not holding court? Is it because you suck as a queen and the author practically spells that out for the reader?

+.+.+

Her last meeting with the Green Grace had not gone well. "What would you have of me?"

"I would speak to you about the presumption of a certain sellsword captain."

She dares say that in open court? Dany felt a blaze of anger. She has courage, I grant that, but if she thinks I am about to suffer another scolding, she could not be more wrong. "The treachery of Brown Ben Plumm has shocked us all," she said, "but your warning comes too late. And now I know you will want to return to your temple to pray for peace."

The Green Grace bowed. "I shall pray for you as well."

Another slap, thought Dany, color rising to her face.

Boy, that is unlike the Daenerys of the six previous chapters.

Too much Daario in the diet.

+.+.+

The rest was a tedium the queen knew well. She sat upon her cushions, listening, one foot jiggling with impatience. Jhiqui brought a platter of figs and ham at midday. There seemed to be no end to the petitioners. For every two she sent off smiling, one left red-eyed or muttering.

Let's play a game. Which one would make the best monarch?

Daenerys. ↑

Robert.

Laws are a tedious business and counting coppers is worse. And the people … there is no end of them. I sit on that damnable iron chair and listen to them complain until my mind is numb and my ass is raw. - Eddard I, AGOT

Cersei.

"May I have the honor of accompanying Your Grace to court?"

"If you can bear the tedium," said Cersei. - Cersei VIII, AFFC

Bran.

"As you will, my prince," said Ser Rodrik. "You did well." Bran flushed with pleasure. Being a lord was not so tedious as he had feared - Bran II, ACOK

You said Bran, didn't you? Wrong.

It was a trick question, the answer is Sansa.

He caught a glimpse of Septa Mordane in the gallery, with his daughter Sansa beside her. Ned felt a flash of anger; this was no place for a girl. - Eddard XI, AGOT

x

"I'm sure I don't know why Arya does anything." Sansa hated stables, smelly places full of manure and flies. Even when she went riding, she liked the boy to saddle the horse and bring it to her in the yard. "Do you want to hear about the court or not?" - Sansa III, AGOT

+.+.+

It was close to sunset before Daario Naharis appeared with his new Stormcrows, the Westerosi who had come over to him from the Windblown. Dany found herself glancing at them as yet another petitioner droned on and on. These are my people. I am their rightful queen. 

George is relentless when trying to get a point across.

+.+.+

It was close to sunset before Daario Naharis appeared with his new Stormcrows, the Westerosi who had come over to him from the Windblown. Dany found herself glancing at them as yet another petitioner droned on and on. These are my people. I am their rightful queen. 

The Westerosi. Her people.

On the morrow I will be a woman wed, and Hizdahr will be king. Let him hold court. These are his people.

You have to be the biggest mark in the world to fall for this girl.

+.+.+

When Daario brought them forward, she saw that one of them was a woman, big and blond and all in mail. "Pretty Meris," her captain named her, though pretty was the last thing Dany would have called her. She was six feet tall and earless, with a slit nose, deep scars in both cheeks, and the coldest eyes the queen had ever seen. As for the rest …

Have we figured out why there's a Brienne?

+.+.+

Gerrold was a lean, tall youth with sun streaks in his hair and laughing blue-green eyes. That smile has won many a maiden's heart, I'll wager. His cloak was made of soft brown wool lined with sandsilk, a goodly garment.

Frog, the squire, was the youngest of the three, and the least impressive, a solemn, stocky lad, brown of hair and eye. His face was squarish, with a high forehead, heavy jaw, and broad nose. The stubble on his cheeks and chin made him look like a boy trying to grow his first beard. Dany had no inkling why anyone would call him Frog. Perhaps he can jump farther than the others.

Off to a great start.

+.+.+

"If it please Your Grace, may I first present my gift?"

"If you wish," Daenerys said, curious, but as Frog started forward Daario Naharis stepped in front of him and held out a gloved hand. "Give this gift to me."

Stone-faced, the stocky lad bent, unlaced his boot, and drew a yellowed parchment from a hidden flap within.

"This is your gift? A scrap of writing?" Daario snatched the parchment out of the Dornishman's hands and unrolled it, squinting at the seals and signatures. "Very pretty, all the gold and ribbons, but I do not read your Westerosi scratchings."

"Bring it to the queen," Ser Barristan commanded. "Now."

Dany could feel the anger in the hall. "I am only a young girl, and young girls must have their gifts," she said lightly. "Daario, please, you must not tease me. Give it here."

This is outrageous, and she let it happen.

+.+.+

"Prince Doran." He sank back onto one knee. "Your Grace, I have the honor to be Quentyn Martell, a prince of Dorne and your most leal subject."

Dany laughed.

The Dornish prince flushed red, whilst her own court and counselors gave her puzzled looks. "Radiance?" said Skahaz Shavepate, in the Ghiscari tongue. "Why do you laugh?"

"They call him frog," she said, "and we have just learned why. In the Seven Kingdoms there are children's tales of frogs who turn into enchanted princes when kissed by their true love." Smiling at the Dornish knights, she switched back to the Common Tongue. "Tell me, Prince Quentyn, are you enchanted?"

Laughing, then speaking in a language he can't understand. How rude.

"I do not speak your tongue," Quentyn answered. Though he could read and write High Valyrian, he had little practice speaking it. - The Merchant's Man, ADWD

+.+.+

"Tell me, Prince Quentyn, are you enchanted?"

"No, Your Grace."

"I feared as much." Neither enchanted nor enchanting, alas. A pity he's the prince, and not the one with the wide shoulders and the sandy hair. 

Get those spears ready, Doran. She's coming home.

+.+.+

"My father hoped that you might find me acceptable."

Daario Naharis gave a scornful laugh. "I say you are a pup. The queen needs a man beside her, not a mewling boy. You are no fit husband for a woman such as her. When you lick your lips, do you still taste your mother's milk?"

Ser Gerris Drinkwater darkened at his words. "Mind your tongue, sellsword. You are speaking to a prince of Dorne."

"And to his wet nurse, I am thinking." Daario brushed his thumbs across his sword hilts and smiled dangerously.

I'm supposed to believe this child (derogatory) is a good queen when she lets a sellsword speak to a prince of Dorne like this? A potential ally.

Quentyn may be dead, but the remaining Dornishmen will remember what happened here.

The Tattered Prince turned back to Quentyn. "Could that be true? Surely not. What of your marriage pact?"

"She laughed at him," said Pretty Meris.

Daenerys never laughed. - The Spurned Suitor, ADWD

+.+.+

Skahaz scowled, as only he could scowl. "This boy might serve for Dorne, but Meereen needs a king of Ghiscari blood."

But not Hizdahr zo Loraq, amirite Skahaz?

+.+.+

The queen rose. "Then we are done for now."

Daario and Ser Barristan followed her up the steps to her apartments. "This changes everything," the old knight said.

"This changes nothing," Dany said, as Irri removed her crown. "What good are three men?"

There's Barristan Selmy pushing her to make a bad decision. What else is new?

My unpopular opinion is that she made the right choice choosing Meereen over Quentyn.

Of course she'll abandon Meereen anyway, so I can't give her too much credit.

+.+.+

She found herself remembering her nightmare. Sometimes there is truth in dreams. Could Hizdahr zo Loraq be working for the warlocks, was that what the dream had meant? Could the dream have been a sending? Were the gods telling her to put Hizdahr aside and wed this Dornish prince instead? 

I'm laughing.

"Shade-of-the-evening, the wine of the warlocks. I came upon a cask of it when I captured a certain galleas out of Qarth, along with some cloves and nutmeg, forty bolts of green silk, and four warlocks who told a curious tale. One presumed to threaten me, so I killed him and fed him to the other three. - The Reaver, AFFC

If he gives her Pyat Pree I will die.

+.+.+

Something tickled at her memory. "Ser Barristan, what are the arms of House Martell?"

"A sun in splendor, transfixed by a spear."

The sun's son. A shiver went through her. "Shadows and whispers." What else had Quaithe said? The pale mare and the sun's son. There was a lion in it too, and a dragon. Or am I the dragon? "Beware the perfumed seneschal." That she remembered. "Dreams and prophecies. Why must they always be in riddles? I hate this. Oh, leave me, ser. Tomorrow is my wedding day."

The second Daenerys makes this connection you know the sun's son can't be Quentyn Martell. This girl only misses.

+.+.+

That night Daario had her every way a man can have a woman, and she gave herself to him willingly. The last time, as the sun was coming up, she used her mouth to make him hard again, as Doreah had taught her long ago, then rode him so wildly that his wound began to bleed again, and for one sweet heartbeat she could not tell whether he was inside of her, or her inside of him.

+.+.+

But when the sun rose upon her wedding day so did Daario Naharis, donning his clothes and buckling on his sword belt with its gleaming golden wantons. "Where are you going?" Dany asked him. "I forbid you to make a sortie today."

"My queen is cruel," her captain said. "If I cannot slay your foes, how shall I amuse myself whilst you are being wed?"

Do we believe him?

+.+.+

When he was gone, Missandei brought the queen a simple meal of goat cheese and olives, with raisins for a sweet. "Your Grace needs more than wine to break her fast. You are such a tiny thing, and you will surely need your strength today."

That made Daenerys laugh, coming from a girl so small. She relied so much on the little scribe that she oft forgot that Missandei had only turned eleven. 

The girl that keeps sneaking up on Daenerys is 11 years old.

:)

+.+.+

Afterward, as Jhiqui was patting Daenerys dry, Irri approached with her tokar. Dany envied the Dothraki maids their loose sandsilk trousers and painted vests. They would be much cooler than her in her tokar, with its heavy fringe of baby pearls. "Help me wind this round myself, please. I cannot manage all these pearls by myself."

[...]

"The day is too hot to be shut up in a palanquin," said Dany. "Have my silver saddled. I would not go to my lord husband upon the backs of bearers."

"Your Grace," said Missandei, "this one is so sorry, but you cannot ride in a tokar."

The little scribe was right, as she so often was. The tokar was not a garment meant for horseback. Dany made a face.

The mother of dragons rejects your baby pearls. She prefers the winged horse.

"All those pearls will make me rattle when I walk."

"The pearls symbolize fertility. The more pearls Your Worship wears, the more healthy children she will bear."

"Why would I want a hundred children?" - Daenerys VI, ADWD

+.+.+

Missandei reemerged from inside the pyramid. "Reznak and Skahaz beg the honor of escorting Your Grace to the Temple of the Graces. Reznak has ordered your palanquin made ready."

Meereenese seldom rode within their city walls. They preferred palanquins, litters, and sedan chairs, borne upon the shoulders of their slaves. "Horses befoul the streets," one man of Zakh had told her, "slaves do not." Dany had freed the slaves, yet palanquins, litters, and sedan chairs still choked the streets as before, and none of them floated magically through the air.

[...]

Dany made a face. "As you say. Not the palanquin, though. I would suffocate behind those drapes. Have them ready a sedan chair." If she must wear her floppy ears, let all the rabbits see her.

It's not terribly important, but remember this.

(Sounds like she still has slaves!)

+.+.+

The seneschal wore a tokar of maroon samite with golden fringes. "Hizdahr zo Loraq is most fortunate in you … and you in him, if I may be so bold as to say. This match will save our city, you will see."

"So we pray. I want to plant my olive trees and see them fruit." Does it matter that Hizdahr's kisses do not please me? Peace will please me. Am I a queen or just a woman?

+.+.+

"The crowds will be thick as flies today." The Shavepate was clad in a pleated black skirt and a muscled breastplate, with a brazen helm shaped like a serpent's head beneath one arm.

"Should I be afraid of flies? Your Brazen Beasts will keep me safe from any harm."

A serpent's head? Subtle!

Once she says that, I'm thinking those Brazen Beasts will not be keeping her safe. See The Meereenese Blot for more details.

+.+.+

The three Dornishmen were with him, talking, but they broke off when the queen appeared. Their prince went to one knee. "Your Grace, I must entreat you. My father's strength is failing, but his devotion to your cause is as strong as ever. If my manner or my person have displeased you, that is my sorrow, but—"

"If you would please me, ser, be happy for me," Daenerys said. "This is my wedding day. They will be dancing in the Yellow City, I do not doubt." 

It's amazing how quickly this marriage pact is dismissed. It barely occupies the chapter or her thoughts. It's practically a footnote.

Meanwhile Doran has his whole life and kingdom riding on it.

+.+.+

The old knight inclined his head. "The queen your mother was always mindful of her duty." He was handsome in his gold-and-silver armor, his white cloak streaming from his shoulders, but he sounded like a man in pain, as if every word were a stone he had to pass. "As a girl, though … she was once smitten with a young knight from the stormlands who wore her favor at a tourney and named her queen of love and beauty. A brief thing."

"What happened to this knight?"

"He put away his lance the day your lady mother wed your father. Afterward he became most pious, and was heard to say that only the Maiden could replace Queen Rhaella in his heart. His passion was impossible, of course. A landed knight is no fit consort for a princess of royal blood."

Ser Bonifer Hasty.

Ser Bonifer himself had been a promising knight in his youth, but something had happened to him, a defeat or a disgrace or a near brush with death, and afterward he had decided that jousting was an empty vanity and put away his lance for good and all. - Jaime III, AFFC

Who knows, maybe Daenerys will meet him one day.

+.+.+

"And my father? Was there some woman he loved better than his queen?"

Ser Barristan shifted in the saddle. "Not … not loved. Mayhaps wanted is a better word, but … it was only kitchen gossip, the whispers of washerwomen and stableboys …"

"I want to know. I never knew my father. I want to know everything about him. The good and … the rest."

She won't even say the word bad. Lol

+.+.+

"As you command." The white knight chose his words with care. "Prince Aerys … as a youth, he was taken with a certain lady of Casterly Rock, a cousin of Tywin Lannister. When she and Tywin wed, your father drank too much wine at the wedding feast and was heard to say that it was a great pity that the lord's right to the first night had been abolished. A drunken jape, no more, but Tywin Lannister was not a man to forget such words, or the … the liberties your father took during the bedding." His face reddened. "I have said too much, Your Grace. I—"

Bootlicking Barry is having a difficult time defaming the great Aerys Targaryen.

There's the passage that broke the brains of half the fandom.

It has been reliably reported, however, that King Aerys took unwonted liberties with Lady Joanna's person during her bedding ceremony, to Tywin's displeasure. Not long thereafter, Queen Rhaella dismissed Joanna Lannister from her service. No reason for this was ever given, but Lady Joanna departed at once for Casterly Rock and seldom visited King's Landing thereafter. - The World of Ice and Fire

Kind of hard for Aerys to be Tyrion's father when Joanna Lannister was never in King's Landing, no?

Anyway, did you enjoy this story of a jealous Mad King trying to interfere with a loving marriage between two cousins? We'll have to wait and see if we get another daddy-daughter parallel.

(I could be talking about two different couples! Isn't it fun!?)

+.+.+

Another procession had come up beside her own, and Hizdahr zo Loraq was smiling at her from his own sedan chair.

How did he know to travel on a sedan chair? She was supposed to ride in a palanquin.

+.+.+

My king. Dany wondered where Daario Naharis was, what he was doing. If this were a story, he would gallop up just as we reached the temple, to challenge Hizdahr for my hand.

Side by side the queen's procession and Hizdahr zo Loraq's made their slow way across Meereen, until finally the Temple of the Graces loomed up before them, its golden domes flashing in the sun. How beautiful, the queen tried to tell herself, but inside her was some foolish little girl who could not help but look about for Daario. If he loved you, he would come and carry you off at swordpoint, as Rhaegar carried off his northern girl, the girl in her insisted, but the queen knew that was folly. Even if her captain was mad enough to attempt it, the Brazen Beasts would cut him down before he got within a hundred yards of her.

My eyes couldn't roll further back.

She actually framed Rhaegar carrying off Lyanna at swordpoint and raping her as love. She's been told the same story as everyone else.

+.+.+

Galazza Galare awaited them outside the temple doors, surrounded by her sisters in white and pink and red, blue and gold and purple. There are fewer than there were. Dany looked for Ezzara and did not see her. Has the bloody flux taken even her? 

Daenerys is always wrong, so I don't know what to make of this. People seem to believe Ezzara is a Pahl?

"You have no lack of enemies, Your Grace. You can see their pyramids from your terrace. Zhak, Hazkar, Ghazeen, Merreq, Loraq, all the old slaving families. Pahl. Pahl, most of all. A house of women now. Bitter old women with a taste for blood. Women do not forget. Women do not forgive." - Daenerys I, ADWD

Maybe, but I don't know where they're getting that from.

+.+.+

He has gentle hands, she mused, as warm fragrant oils ran between her toes. If he has a gentle heart as well, I may grow fond of him in time.

When her feet were clean, Hizdahr dried them with a soft towel, laced her sandals on again, and helped her stand. Hand in hand, they followed the Green Grace inside the temple, where the air was thick with incense and the gods of Ghis stood cloaked in shadows in their alcoves.

Four hours later, they emerged again as man and wife, bound together wrist and ankle with chains of yellow gold.

Sorry Hizadahr, the breaker of chains (or her dragons) will not be subdued.

Four hour wedding not long after a speedy northern wedding. Is there a message here?

Final thoughts:

It was mentioned on Reddit this chapter had to be rewritten five times. Can anyone verify George said that?

This doesn't feel like a hard chapter to write.

-> return to menu <-

[razieltwelve]

Minions (Final Rose x Game of Thrones)

Ser Barristan Selmy stood silently with one hand on the pommel of his sword as Prince Edward paced in front of the small group of men. It might have seemed odd for a boy his age to already be gathering his own followers, but Prince Edward was something of a prodigy in everything he attempted. Given who his grandfather was, the old knight wasn’t altogether surprised that he was turning his attention to more... underhanded things.

Honour, Barristan had learned, was important, but honour alone could not keep a kingdom running. A great ruler knew when to follow the rules and when to... bend them a little. His task was to ensure that no matter what happened, the prince would be safe. 

“You have been called here today,” Edward began. “Because you are all men with... certain talents, talents that I might find useful. You are also men whose services can be bought, and most importantly of all, you stay bought. I have need of such men, men who can be counted on to do what needs doing and who will remain loyal knowing full well that a prince and future king can offer more than mere coin. He can offer influence. He can offer resources. He can offer a path to a life beyond that of a sell sword or a mercenary.”

The men remained silent, taking the prince’s measure. Barristan was certain they would not find him wanting.

The leader of the group spoke. “Aye, we are such men. But what do you want us to do and what can you give us for doing it?”

Barristan’s first instinct was to bristle at the disrespect, but the prince merely chuckled and continued. 

“Good. I was hoping you’d ask. Fools and simpletons have their place, of course, but what I want you to do for me requires men of cunning and intellect.” The prince unrolled a bolt of silk. “Do you know what this is?”

The three other men shook their heads, but the leader answered. “It’s silk.” He paused. “I’ve seen it once or twice when I’ve worked for other lords. Pricey stuff, Your Highness, worth it’s weight in gold and then some, or so I hear.”

“Indeed. It is silk, and it is worth a great deal of coin. Why? Because nobody knows how to make it, save for the sorcerers of Yi Ti.” The prince’s lips curled. “At least, that’s what they’d like for us to believe.”

The leader of the men smirked. “So I’m guessing you’ve worked out how they do it then.”

“Yes, I have. However, knowing how they do it and actually doing it myself are different things. What I need you gentlemen to do is to get a few things for me - things that will allow me to make my own silk.” The prince’s lips twitched. “As you can imagine, there is going to be a great deal of risk involved: death, mayhem, treachery, all that sort of thing.”

“A great deal of risk means a great deal of coin.”

“It does... and should you succeed, you will receive a great deal of coin. But if you succeed, then it means my estimations of you are correct, and I’d rather not have men of your calibre wandering around, working for the highest bidder. I’d want such men working for me alone, as my men.”

“Long term?”

“For life if possible,” the prince replied.

“For life, huh?” The leader glanced back at his fellows, and they exchanged nods. “That’ll take more than coin.”

“I imagine it would.” The prince grinned. “So, tell me... what are your dreams? What can this prince of the seven kingdoms grant you that will secure your loyalty for life?”

One of the other men stepped forward. He was a lean fellow, but Ser Barristan’s experienced eyes saw the knives concealed in his clothing and the calluses on his hands. This was a man who had spent his entire life honing the skills of an assassin and cutthroat. “I have something I’d like, Your Highness.”

“And what would that be?”

“They call me Deron,” the lean man said. “And I’ve been doing this sort of work for some time. I never grew up with nothing, but I figured if I could earn a decent living, perhaps my siblings would grow up better.”

“I’ve heard worse reasons to go into your line of work.”

“Last year, I went back home.” Deron’s gaze darkened. “I’d been sending money back, you see. I found out my parents had wasted it all. They owed some bastard a lot of money, and they...” He took a deep breath. “They sold one of my sisters to pay it off. They would have sold some of my other siblings too, I figure, but my sister was also a beauty, and she’d just flowered...”

“I trust your siblings are no longer with your parents,” the prince said quietly.

“No. I got them someplace else.” He bit his lip. “King’s Landing might not be the best place in the world, but it’s better than being sold off.” He clenched his fists. “It’s not coin that will buy my loyalty, Your Highness. I’ve heard of you. We all have. They say the gods have blessed you, made you more clever than any man the Seven Kingdom’s have ever seen, but you’re more than clever. You’re talking to us, which means you’re cunning too. I bet you’ve got eyes and ears in all sorts of place, even in Essos.”

“I can either confirm nor deny that.”

Deron chuckled grimly. “I want you to use those eyes and ears to find my sister for me.”

“How long has it been exactly?” the prince asked. Ser Barristan could well understand the need to ask. Slaves... slaves did not last long in Essos. And a young, beautiful girl? There was no telling what might have been done to her or if she was even still alive.

“It’s been six months since I found out, maybe six and a half since they sold her.” 

“I see.” The prince nodded crisply. “Tell me everything you know. I cannot promise that I will find her, but you have my word as a proud son of the House of Baratheon that I will do everything I can to find her for you.”

“That’s all I can ask,” Deron said, bowing. “But I promise you, Your Highness, that if you find her for me or at least find out what happened to her so I can stick a knife in whoever was responsible, then I’m your man. The Drowned God could try to drag me down into the depths, and I swear I’d fight him off to keep on serving you.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” The prince nodded at the two other men besides the leader, the pair who were very obviously twins. “And you two?”

“Gold for starters,” the one on the right said. “Me brother and I survived by ourselves for years before running into these two. But we’re tired of going from place to place, always looking for another job, always wondering if this is the job where the man hiring us decides he doesn’t want to pay and decides to stick a knife between our ribs instead of giving us the coin we’re owed. We don’t want none of that anymore.” He knelt, as did his brother. “They call me Jerod and my brother here is Markel. Take us into your House, Your Highness, make us men of House Baratheon with all that means, and we’ll serve you till our dying day.”

“If you succeed, then you will have more than earned that right.” The prince turned to their leader. “And what would you ask of me, Bronn?” The prince’s lips twitched. “After all, you are the leader of this little group and one of the most reliable and well-known mercenaries in this little corner of the world.”

“Like the brothers, I’m sick of wandering. I want a place to call my own and the guarantee of a roof over my head.” Bronn took a deep breath. “ And I want a knighthood.”

Ser Barristan’s fists clenched. To demand a knighthood? The audacity... yet he had also seen men rewarded with knighthoods for less than what the prince was asking of these men.

“You succeed, Bronn, and it’ll be Ser Bronn.” The prince hummed thoughtfully. “And unlike the others here, I can tell you have greater ambitions.” Bronn nodded. “Should you become a knight in my service, Bronn, know that there will be opportunity to rise further. Why, who’s to say that you might not one day find yourself called Lord Bronn.”

Bronn’s eyes widened, and Barristan knew that the prince had him. “You would...?”

“Not for this alone, Bronn, understand that. But all lords were once mere warriors. It was by their strength and cunning that they rose. I believe that men should be given a chance to rise beyond the circumstances of their birth should they prove themselves worthy of greater things.”

“Lord Bronn?” Bronn chuckled. “I like the sound of that.” His lips curled. “What would you have us do, Your Highness? Whatever it is, we’ll get it done.”

X     X     X

A few months later...

The four men stood before the prince again, and Ser Barristan once more stood guard. They were all carrying a few extra scars, and it was clear that they were still healing from a litany of other injuries, but they had succeeded. In all honesty, Ser Barristan could still scarcely believe it himself.

Insects? Mere insects were the source of silk? Yet the evidence was clear, and the prince had already sworn everyone involve to secrecy while seeing to it that some of his most trusted and most learned servants tended to the creatures. Gods willing, it would all work, and the crown would soon be able to produce their own silk in significant quantities.

“You know,” the prince drawled. “I expected you to succeed, but I didn’t think you’d succeed in quite the manner that you did.” He laughed. “Half the docks at Pentos burned down. Entire districts left in chaos, to say nothing of the riots and other disorder that I’m sure you caused.” The four squirmed beneath his gaze. The prince, after all, had asked them to be as discrete as possible. “Yet... not a single one of those things could be traced to you. The four of you covered your tracks quite well, it seems. And the quest I gave you?” The prince smiled broadly. “You succeeded beyond all my expectations. I had hoped to secure a single box of silk worms. You lot came back with seven.”

“If I may, Your Highness,” Bronn said. “It seemed a good idea at the time. Given the ruckus we’d caused just to get our hands on one, we figured we might as well take the rest.”

The prince’s eyes gleamed. “This is why I chose you and your group, Bronn. The Yi Ti ship was only going to be there for a week, and it took me a stupidly huge quantity of coin to learn both its schedule and the fact that it would be carrying silk worms. I knew it would be heavily guarded, and I knew it would take extraordinary measures to steal some. You four created a chance, and you took full advantage of it. The results speak for themselves.”

The prince nodded, and four chests were brought forward by his servants. “This is the gold you were promised... doubled because of how well you accomplished your mission.” He grinned. “As for your other requests...” He started with Deron. “My agents have been looking for your sister. Based on the information you gave me, we’ve narrowed it down to five possibilities. The moment I know more, you will know, but I’ve given them instructions to obtain her, using whatever means they deem necessary should they located her. I’ve also taken the liberty of finding a new house for you and your siblings. The current one is not nearly good enough for a man in my employ.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Deron fell to his knees. “I’m your man from this day forward.”

“As for you, Jerod and Markel... allow me to welcome you to House Baratheon. From this day forth, you are my sworn swords, and you will be a member of my household. You will be lodged in the Red Keep as trusted members of my House, so I expect you to conduct yourselves accordingly.”

They too fell to their knees. “You have our thanks, Your Highness, and our loyalty unto death.”

“And now we get to you, Bronn...” The prince’s lips curled into a smile. “Or should I say Ser Bronn?”

“Ser Bronn does have a nice ring to it.”

“I’ve spoken to my father. He’ll knight you himself. But don’t get too comfortable - and this goes for the three of you also - because I’ve got more work for you to do.” The prince chuckled. “At this rate, however, I doubt it will be long before you find yourself as Lord Bronn.”

“Lord Bronn has an even better ring to it.” Bronn fell to his knees. “Your Highness. Whatever you need done, I’ll get it done.”

“Excellent,” the prince said. “Now, rise, all of you. Keep in mind that while you will be serving me, I will also be asking you to perform tasks for some of my... associates. Chief amongst them is my uncle, Tyrion Lannister.”

X     X     X

Tyrion looked at the four men who had walked into his office. To his keen eye, they were all dangerous men, none more than the newly knighted Ser Bronn. His nephew had told him of what these men had achieved and how they had done it. To take them lightly would be foolish in the extreme.

He gestured at the table with bread, salt, and wine. “Have a seat, gentlemen. We have a lot to talk about.” He chuckled. “As I'm sure you’re aware, my nephew and I have enjoyed a rather incredible rise in the merchanting world. However, there are those who would like to see that rise halted. Today, I’ll be telling you who they are and what we will be doing about them.”

X     X     X

Author’s Notes

Edward (Diana) knows that there are few things more important than an elite cadre of minions who are both loyal and skilled. Moreover, taking these men into his service deprives his enemies of them as well. This is especially important because men like Bronn are worth their weight in gold: deadly, cunning, and maniacally determined. It won’t be long before Bronn does indeed find himself the owner a nice, cosy castle in the Crown Lands.

That said, their little escapade in Essos is going to give people conniptions, especially the ones who were planning on doing the exact same thing they were. Indeed, a certain Sealord’s daughter had agents who were planning to make a move the very next night only for Bronn to steal a march on them and come away with the prize.

And speaking of Bronn, in this timeline, he has three associates he often works with. They’ve formed their own little group, largely as a survival measure due to how often treachery seems to plague their line of work. Here, they’re turning official although Edward will, of course, be hiding what it is they actually do for him. As far as anyone can tell, they are simply men who’ve been hired by the prince to handle things around the city after putting in a good showing after he met them along the road and encountered bandits.

Next on Edward’s agenda... talking with a certain Viper and securing the services of a certain Hound. 

If you’re interested in my thoughts on writing and other topics, you can find those here.

I also write original fiction, which you can find on Amazon here or on Audible here.

[mymothershumility]

fullrangeofemotions asked: ❝ come on and dance with me. ❞

past transmissions || { always accepting }

{ @fullrangeofemotions }

It is not the first feast that she has attended in her great grandfather’s stead. Laira knows that it shall not be the last. Grandfather’s health has been declining as of late. She can see the signs of fatigue in him, sees the weight of the crown upon him. His reign has surpassed even that of the Conciliator.

All the same, it has been fraught with just as much strife.

There are days when Laira believes it to be far more.

Her ladies have all found partners for themselves as the evening has progressed. From her seat upon the tiered dais constructed within one of the Red Keep’s gardens, the Crown Princess watches as her ladies twirl about the floor with their chosen lords and knights. Princess Elia briefly passes before her, wrapped up in the arms of Lord Baelor Hightower. Lady Ashara comes next, laughing as Brandon Stark spins her about.

She counts others as well. Her own half-sister, Daenerys, and Prince Oberyn. Princess Arianne upon the arm of Ser Andrey Dalt. Lady Leonette Fossoway and Ser Garlan Tyrell. Lord Oliver Redwyne and Lady Dinah Arryn. Even gruff Lord Tully has been pulled to the floor by a giggling Lady Arisia Hightower.

Such sights are those that Grandfather has long fought for. The realm knows peace because of him. It knows prosperity because of him. Even with such thoughts echoing in her mind, they cannot quell the spark that leaps up into her heart as she spies others about the gardens.

Though the Baratheons are family to her through her great aunt, Princess Rhaelle, there is little love between them all. Laira adores her Aunt Rhaelle and her youngest cousin, Lady Shireen. As for the others, she trusts none of them. She senses treachery amongst them, senses deceit in every lingering glance and whispered word that is passed between Aunt Rhaelle’s grandchildren.

For then, the Baratheons are exchanging words with the current Lord of Winterfell and his wife. She has the utmost respect for Martin Stark and all he has done for her grandfather. As for his wife, Lady Jessica Karstark, Laira cannot say the same.

Much like the Baratheons, deceit seems to color every word that the woman utters.

She has to look away when Caroline Baratheon appears beside Lord Martin Stark and Lady Jessica, has to stop herself from frowning. For a moment, she expects to find her sworn shield at her side. She has grown used to his presence there after so many years. She finds the space empty instead. Ser Barristan Selmy stands a few steps from her. And, Ser Arthur Dayne just a few steps beyond him. It is not the same, though.

Her mind relays a bitter reminder to her just a moment later. Her sworn shield has been pulled from her, is now pulled to Caroline Baratheon’s side.

It is not like her to covet. It is not like her to succumb to jealousy. She finds that she has fallen prey to both. She despises it. And, she despises herself for it.

“Your Grace.”

She quickly schools her features, all signs of discontent abandoning her. She smiles, instead, and greets Lady Donna.

“Lady Donna,” she addresses, smiling despite the unsteady thundering of her heart inside her chest.

“Your Grace,” Lady Donna begins again, “come on and dance with me,” she implores. “My cousins and I would love to have you join us,” she insists.

Laira gently shakes her head, a light laugh echoing in her words as she begins to answer. Her demeanor is forced. The words, even more so. “You are most gracious to offer such an invitation to me, Lady Donna. I regret to say that I do not dance, though. I am content to observe from where I am.”

The words are a lie. Yet, they are preferred when compared to the bitter truth that leads her to remaining a mere observer.

If she cannot have the partner that she has had for the last four years, then she prefers to not have one at all.

The realization is as bitter as the jealousy that continues to flutter about in her heart.

She despises herself all the more because of it.

[laannie0803]

Ser Bonifer Hasty, apodado Bonifer el Bueno, es un anciano caballero hacendado de las Tierras de la Tormenta y líder de los Cien Santos. Es amigo de Lord Orton Merryweather.

Bonifer es descrito como un hombre alto y delgado de avanzada edad. Es conocido por su devoción a los Siete.

Ser Bonifer sirvió al abuelo de Lord Orton Merryweather en algún momento.

De acuerdo a Ser Barristan Selmy, Ser Bonifer y la princesa Rhaella Targaryen estuvieron enamorados, previo al compromiso de la princesa con su hermano, el príncipe Aerys. Ser Bonifer llevó la prenda de la princesa en un torneo y ganó, nombrando a Rhaella Reina del Amor y la Belleza. Su romance fue breve, pues Ser Bonifer, como un mero caballero hacendado, fue considerado de muy bajo nacimiento para una princesa Targaryen. Cuando Rhaella se casó con Aerys, Ser Bonifer se refugió en la religión, diciendo que sólo la Doncella podría reemplazar a Rhaella en su corazón.

Choque de Reyes Ser Bonifer y sus Cien Santos se unen al rey Renly I al comienzo de la Guerra de los Cinco Reyes. Luego de la muerte de Renly, juran lealtad al rey Stannis I. Pelea en la Batalla del Aguasnegras, donde es tomado prisionero junto a sus hombres. Jura lealtad al rey Joffrey I.

Festín de Cuervos Ser Bonifer y los Cien Santos acompañan a Ser Jaime Lannister a terminar con el asedio de Aguasdulces. En el camino, la comitiva se detiene en Harrenhal, donde Ser Bonifer es nombrado provisionalmente castellano del castillo durante la ausencia de Lord Petyr Baelish. Su misión será tratar de recuperar las Tierras de los Ríos tras los horrores cometidos por Gregor Clegane, Vargo Hoat, Amory Lorch y Roose Bolton. Es nombrado porque, al provenir de las Tierras de la Tormenta, no tiene enemigos ni aliados en el Tridente, y junto a sus Cien Santos tienen una excelente reputación de justicia, sobriedad y disciplina.

Si ya era mas o menos grande (17 o 20 años) cuando sirvió al abuelo de Orton, entonces debió ser mas grande que Rhaella cuando se enamoraron, tal vez unos 8 o incluso 15 años mas que la princesa.

 Ser Bonifer Hasty, nicknamed Bonifer the Good, is an elderly gentleman landowner from the Stormlands and leader of the Hundred Saints. He is a friend of Lord Orton Merryweather.

Bonifer is described as a tall, thin man of advanced age. He is known for his devotion to the Seven.

Ser Bonifer served Lord Orton Merryweather's grandfather at one time.

According to Ser Barristan Selmy, Ser Bonifer and Princess Rhaella Targaryen were in love, prior to the princess's engagement to her brother, Prince Aerys. Ser Bonifer wore the princess garment in a tournament and won, naming Rhaella Queen of Love and Beauty. Their romance was brief, as Ser Bonifer, as a mere squire knight, was considered of very low birth to a Targaryen princess. When Rhaella married Aerys, Ser Bonifer took refuge in religion, saying that only the Maiden could replace Rhaella in her heart.

Clash of Kings Ser Bonifer and his Hundred Saints join King Renly I at the beginning of the War of the Five Kings. After Renly's death, they pledge allegiance to King Stannis I. He fights in the Battle of the Blackwater, where he is taken prisoner alongside his men. Pledge allegiance to King Joffrey I.

Feast for Crows Ser Bonifer and the Hundred Saints accompany Ser Jaime Lannister to end the Siege of Sweetrunners. Along the way, the procession stops at Harrenhal, where Ser Bonifer is provisionally named Castilian from the castle during Lord Petyr Baelish's absence. Your mission will be to try to reclaim the Riverlands after the horrors committed by Gregor Clegane, Vargo Hoat, Amory Lorch and Roose Bolton. He is named because, coming from the Stormlands, he has no enemies or allies in the Trident, and along with his Hundred Saints they have an excellent reputation for justice, sobriety and discipline.

If he was more or less big (17 or 20 years old) when he served Orton's grandfather, then he must have been bigger than Rhaella when they fell in love, maybe 8 or even 15 years older than the princess.

[mermenculture2]

Three Treasons you will know: once for Gold , once for Blood and once for Love. Could this count as the treason for love. But i think ser Barristan already answered for us. Duty and love for his father , love and duty for Dorne.