Mother of Dragons

Mother of Dragons

Daenerys POV

Seeing my children flying through the ocean made me realize they weren't small anymore. They were ferocious beasts that dived into the water and back to the air with fresh fish in their mouths. I heard from Arstan that Balerion was two hundred years old before he died. Balerion was so big that his shadow would engulf entire towns when he flew. My dragons were still little compared to him as they were young. Still not big enough to pluck krakens from the sea, as Arstan believed they would in due time.

As the great cog groaned as they sailed through the sea, Daenerys listened to Arstan tell her stories about dragons of the old, kings lost in history, and her brother. At first, I thought they were tales of the old man who didn't know better, but something told me he knew what he was talking about. At least it intrigued me to listen to him.

"It was said that no man ever knew Prince Rhaegar, truly. I had the privilege of seeing him in a tourney, though, and often heard him play his harp with its silver strings."

That's what Arstan said, and Jorah would scoff. My exiled knight didn't like the old and white-bearded Arstan. It was true that I shouldn't trust them, even if Arstan saved my life from the sorrowful men. He came from Pentos with three ships to proclaim himself loyal to me. I was glad I still had friends with Magister Ilyrio, but I couldn't trust them as I did my blood riders.

I agreed to Jorah's idea to sail to Astapor, seeking the Unsullied to protect me. No matter how happy I felt now, I feared the hidden daggers. It was challenging to make captain Groleo and Strong Belwas change the course, but they listened, at least for now. She didn't know what she would have done if they didn't.

…

The Plaza of Pride was horrible. A red fountain stood in the center, mocking me. I heard the old rhyme, "Bricks and blood build Astapor, and bricks and blood her people." It felt mocking as I knew it wasn't Astapor's blood but the blood of the slaves—the slaves she wanted to use for her gain.

"Tell the Westerosi whore to lower her eyes," she heard as the slaver Kraznys mo Nakloz complained to the slave girl who spoke for him. I was looking at the fountain's center, where a monstrous harpy was made of hammered bronze. She was twenty feet tall and had a woman's face. Water gushed yellow from her heavy breasts. But in place of arms, she had the wings of a bat or a dragon. Her legs were the legs of an eagle, and behind, she wore a scorpion's curled and venomous tail.

The girl by the slaver's side repeated her master's words in a common tongue. Krazny's high Valyrian was twisted so much that I wouldn't understand him if I didn't listen. I learned high Valyrian, even if I pretended not to have, and looked at the little girl as she spoke. Her voice and words weren't as mocking as her master's.

"I deal in meat, not metal. The bronze is not for sale. Tell her to look at the soldiers. Even the dim purple eyes of a sunset savage can see how magnificent my creatures are, surely," The girl had a hard to translate it so it wouldn't sound so mocking.

"Magnificent?" It startled her when he heard a voice beside her in Valyrian. "Creatures of meat and blood, you can find them everywhere."

Jorah had his hand on his sword, and Arstan gripped his staff. The man wasn't old, but pale as she imagined snow was, yet his black hair and eyes became darker than they should be compared to his skin. He wasn't here a moment ago, and now he was beside them, looking at the Unsullied. I didn't know how no one heard him when he was dressed in full plate armor, and it scared me for a moment.

"Who are you?" Kraznys asked.

"A potential customer," The man replied. "A man with a lot of gold and need of magnificent men."

"Are all Westerosi pigs so ignorant?" Kraznys complained, looking distastefully at the man. "All the world knows that the Unsullied are masters of spear, shield, and shortsword."

"The world isn't as small as you imagine, but when you are so big, it might seem to be," The man said while looking at Kraznys fat stomach and breasts bigger than mine.

"You should have waited your turn," Kraznys said. "I talk to the Westerosi bitch now."

"She isn't from Westeros," The man said. "Her parents are, but not her. She was born in the sea, raised without a home."

"Guards," Kraznys yelled.

Yet ten men in grey cloaks came to surround them instead of guards. All of them looked as fearsome and skilled as Jorah. Yet instead of baring their weapons at Kraznys, they presented chests and bags with gold and jewelry. And only now did I notice that the man with pale skin didn't look disturbed in his black full-plate armor with golden Kraken and a raven feather cloak. The heat was annoying me when I only wore a silk dress, but he didn't seem to be bothered.

"I didn't want to wait as gold is heavy, and I want to get rid of it," The man in black said, and Kraznys quickly tried to please him with his words. "Tell me more about how magnificent they are,"

"They are chosen young for size, speed, and strength," The slaver told him. "They begin their training at five. Every day they train from dawn to dusk until they have mastered the shortsword, the shield, and the three spears. The training is most rigorous. Only one boy in three survives it. This is well known. Among the Unsullied, it is said that on the day they win their spiked cap, the worst is done with, for no duty that will ever fall to them could be as hard as their training."

"These have been standing here for a day and a night without food or water," The girl continued to translate it to me. "They will stand until they drop if I should command it, and when nine hundred and ninety-nine have collapsed to die upon the bricks, the last will stand still and never move until his death claims him. Such is their courage."

"I call that madness, not courage," said Arstan Whitebeard.

"What is courage when they do not fear?" The man in black responded. "One can only be brave when one is afraid."

"We call this obedience. Others may be stronger or quicker, or larger than the Unsullied. Some few may even equal their skill with sword and spear and shield. But nowhere between the seas will you ever find any more obedient."

"Yes, it might be so," The man in black replied before taking a dagger from his belt and putting it to the neck of one of the Unsullied. "They do not fear death, but do they wish to live?"

"What are you talking about?" Kraznys was confused as any of us.

"I faced death numerous times. What keeps men fighting isn't fear of death, but wish to live," The man in black said. "Men would do anything to live. Killing is only the simplest thing. We will be back, but I am not impressed."

The man in black left as he arrived, not disturbed. The men in grey cloaks collected their gold and followed suit. Kraznys was disappointed but didn't care and then turned back to me. I stayed longer and listened to the slaver, but not for too long. Every word he spoke made me sick. And I became more curious about the man in black armor.

…

"He is Theon Greyjoy," Arstan told me when we returned to our ships.

"So, these ships belong to him?" I asked, looking at fifty or so warships sprawled at the harbor.

"I believe so, your Grace," Arstan replied.

"How can you be so certain?" Jorah asked.

"I saw him once in King's Landing," Arstan answered. "He won the archery competition. Back then, he was just a boy following lord Stark."

"He didn't look like a boy now," I commented. "Is he just another dog of the Baratheons?"

"I heard that Starks and Lannisters are in a war," Arstan said.

"So, at least he isn't loyal to the Lannisters," I said.

"Not after he captured the Kingslayer and took one eye off the Mountain," Arstan responded. "I know little of the man and where his loyalties lie, your Grace."

"What do you think, Jorah?" I asked.

"I met him when he was a boy," Jorah said. "At Winterfell, he was always with Robb Stark, heir of Winterfell, I have not talked to him, but he always had something to say."

It has been a long day. Learning how the Unsullied were made churned my stomach. Yet when Theon came out of nowhere, it was like a cool breeze under the scorching sun. It made me feel better and curious. Curious about what kind of man he was to walk so confidently, speak so easily, and make fun of people so freely.

"Se Jorah," I spoke. "Bring him to me. I want to speak with him."

"Your Grace?" Jorah looked confusingly at me.

"He might know more about Westeros," I explained.

"He knows who you are," Arstan said.

"I gathered so much myself," I replied. "I want to hear what happened to my home since you left it, Arstan."

It was partially true. Something else I couldn't describe left me wanting to see him. I couldn't say what it was, but at least I was curious about the man, that much I knew. While I contemplated my feelings, my children crawled to me. Drogon was too big for me to hold, and his wings could already cover me.

Viserion was the neediest of the three. He would snuggle under my hand with his cream scales and look at me with his golden eyes longly. Rhaegal was about the size of a small dog, similar to Viserion, but he could keep his distance without complaining. His green and bronze scales reflected the light from a lantern.

"You all too big to hold," I said as they rubbed their head at my hand like cats seeking attention. "Arstan, bring me some meat. I think they are hungry."

Even without Arstan and Jorah, I felt safe with my children watching over me. I knew I could trust them. They would never betray or harm me. When they were with me, I could sleep without nightmares tormenting me. I didn't know what to do without them, yet I needed the Unsullied, and I planned to take them.

I saw the gold Theon Greyjoy had. If I didn't do something, he would take them with him. As I looked at Drogon, an idea sprung into my mind. I hesitated momentarily, but when I looked at my children's caring and loving eyes, I decided on my actions no matter how much they hurt her. It couldn't hurt more than what the Unsullied had to endure.

I will make Kraznys pay for his insolence and show my dragons' strength to Theon. The last thought startled me. I didn't know why I wanted to show my strength to a stranger, but part of me wanted him to see what happens when you wake the dragon. I wondered if he would look at me with fear or respect for the power I wield.