13:Daenerys

Daenerys

Every day, after breaking her fast Dany counted the ships arriving at Slaver's Bay. It made her think back on her time in Pentos' when she had dreamed of sailing back to her home across the Narrow Sea.

Today she had counted five-and-twenty, but she wasn't sure. They were too far away to be sure.

Not that it mattered. All traded had stopped since she had taken Meereen for her own. Matters had turned only worse after Xaro's departure. These ships from Qarth, Tolos and Ghis had arrived.

"Free the dragons," Admiral Groleo told her for the hundred time. "Let them have a taste of dragonfire and the trade will flow again."

Dany knew he was right, but she had no control over her children. Drogon was gone and the other spat fire at her whenever she tried to get close to them.

They are angry that I abandoned them, she thought. They have every right to hate me.

Yet she couldn't share these thoughts with her Admiral.

"Can't we build ships?" she asked instead, knowing very well how silly that sounded. The woods around Meereen had been burned. There was no wood left to build ships. "But you would have to ride into the hinterlands. I shall give you wagons, workers, mules, everything you need to fulfil this task."

"I am not a shipbuilder," the captain complained, his voice laced with bitterness.

His bitterness filled her with fear. Could he be the one that will betray me?

No, she thought and banished these thoughts from her mind. He is only an old man.

"There must be something we can do," she replied weakly and shifted her attention back to the ships.

"There is something we can do, your Grace. Let fire rain from the skies…," he began, but fell silent when Dany flashed him a sharp look.

"Leave me now," she told him, softening her voice after she had heard his sadness. "And pray for your gods to send us a storm."

"No true sailor would ever wish for a storm, your Grace," the old Admiral replied and excused himself, leaving only Ser Barristan Selmy.

"Our stores are filled and your Grace's subjects have planted beans, grapes and wheat. The masters have also been driven out of the hinterlands and freed the rest of the slaves. They are now adding their strength to freedmen of Meereen. Daario Naharis has also won the friendship of the Lhazareen."

"Aye," she agreed. "But at the end of the day they are just Lamb men. I just wish they have sharp teeth, like Jon's wolf."

"That would certainly help, your Grace," Ser Barristan agreed with a wry smile.

The old knight's remark made her chuckle. "To hear about Jon's campaign in Astapor would be even more welcome. How long will it take?"

"A few weeks," Ser Barristan replied. "I cannot say."

Dany sighed and brushed her fears away.

"How are your little knights, ser?" she asked in an attempt to change the topic.

The old knight's face lightened up.

"Well, four or five of them certainly have the making of a knight or perhaps a dozen of them. I hoped for more and I fear the day will come when we will have need of every knight."

Dany smiled, imagining the grand tourneys Viserys had described to her when they were little children. Her brother Rhaegar had won such a tourney and had crowned Jon's mother Queen of Love and Beauty. It must have been a grand thing to behold.

The thought made her happy, but also sad. Had her brother not perished at the Trident she might have seen many such tourneys. Mayhaps some great lord or a knight would have also crowned her. She would have liked that.

It made her also wonder if Jon or his brother Aegon would have competed for her hand. Or perhaps Viserys too? Her brother had always told her that it was custom for their family to wed and bed each other, though she it was hard for her to imagine Viserys on a horse.

"What are you thinking about, your Grace?" the old knight asked, his voice laced with amusement.

"Nothing in particular," she replied and placed a kiss on Ser Barristan's cheek. Sometimes, she pretended he was her grandfather. "I was just dreaming."

Not long after, Missandei appeared at the door. She wore a blue dress with a silver tread that fitted the slippers Dany gifted her. She wears them day and night, Jhiqui and Irri had jested.

"Missandei?" Dany asked and graced her with a smile. "What is it?"

"The Shavepate wishes to speak with you," the little scribe explained and dipped her head.

Dany sighed.

"Send him to me."

As always, the Shavepate was accompanied by two of his Brazen Beasts.

"Your Radiance, I came to present my report to you," the Shavepate explained. Six and twenty days ago, Hizdahr no Loraq, with the Green Grace's prodding, had proposed a match between them. Dany had refused him of course, but the Green Grace had suggested a bargain to prove Hizdahr's worth to her: If Hizdahr was be able to put an end to the killings committed by the Sons of the Harpy Dany would agree to wed him. Dany had agreed to the bargain, but had not promised to agree to the marriage. She had only promised to think about a possible betrothal.

She had also followed the Shavepate's suggestion to have the Brazen Beasts follow her betrothed and take note of all his actions. "Last evening, Hizdahr has visited the pyramid of Zhak last and he did not depart until late into the night."

This new piece of information roused Dany's curiosity.

"How many pyramids has he visited?"

"Eleven," the Shavepate replied curtly.

"And how long since the last murder?"

"Six and twenty days," the Shavepate grumbled. "So far the noble Hizdahr has made good on his promise."

"How?" Dany wanted to know. "Why have the Sons of the Harpy put down their swords?

Deep down she knew the answer, but that would make situation only more difficult. Without Hizdahr's gold she would have never been able to afford her Brazen Beasts.

Yet the Shavepate remained blunt as ever.

"The answer is simply, your Radiance. Hizdahr is most likely one of the Sons of the Harpy, if not the Harpy himself."

Dany frowned at that. The Shavepate was convinced that the Sons of the Harpy had a leader, but Dany didn't share this belief. The Brazen Beasts' had captured a dozen of these Sons of the Harpy and they had readily yielded names. All too many names for Dany's taste.

But the Shavepate was not wrong to point out this possibility. Hizdahr had been flying around her like a bee around a pot of honey. She could not trust him. In that regard she also agreed with Jon, who had warned her vehemently against trusting Hizdahr before his departure to Astapor.

It made her wish that she had never sent him away. His absence had made it clear to her how much she had relied on his council and companionship.

"What you say is true," Dany replied. "Noble Hizdahr is a persuasive man with many friends, but that doesn't make him the Harpy."

The Shavepate sucked in a deep breath. The frustration was palpable on his face.

"He may not be the Harpy, but he may know him or her. Let me question them further…," the Shavepate began, but Dany cut him off.

"I know very well what your questioning would entail," she said and made her displeasure known. "And I don't deny that it brought me many names… all too many if you ask me. That said, you may continue to watch the noble Hizdahr, but do no harm him. Do you understand?"

"I am no fool," the Shavepate grumbled and unfurled a parchment he had kept in the vest of his cloak. "But have a look at this, your Radiance. This is a list of all the Meereense ships that have recently joined the blockade. All the ruling families are present, even Reznak and Loraq."

The list was of no use to her, just as the numerous names he had given her.

"Every man on that list has kin within the city. I cannot imprison them all."

"You have taken hostages," the Shavepate reminded her of the hard truth. Jon had done the same and yet she couldn't bring herself to do it. I shall not be my father, she told herself. I will not butcher innocent children."

"You know my view on this matter," was all she replied. Yet even later as the first rays of sunlight appeared on the distant horizon was she reading over the parchment, repeating the names to herself. She had wanted to burn the parchment, but she hadn't been able to do it.

Barristan had even assured her that her brother Rhaegar would have been proud of her. Thinking of her brother made her sad as it also caused her to think of Jon and Ser Jorah. One she had sent into exile and the other she had sent to Astapor to kill the butcher king.

Do not fret, he had told her with full confidence. I shall bring you the butcher king's head.

Come back instead, she thought as she wrapped herself in the white pelt of the harakker Drogo had killed for her so long ago. The pelt had always given her comfort, but it was not enough to drive away her loneliness. Daario had also offered himself to her after he had returned from his campaign in Lhazar. He had also brought a good hundred sellswords that had once served the Long Lances. She had thanked him and had then rebuked his advances.

Daario was charming, but he was no dragon.

"Is the mistress sad?" Missandei asked softly, rising from her sleeping place beside her. The little scribe's hair was a tangle of wild curls, her golden eyes wide with worry.

In the last weeks, Irri had shared her bed, but it had been no use to calm her mind. Thus, she had taken the little scribe back as her bed companion.

The little girl's presence gave her no sweet release, but the companionship she was craving for.

"I am well," she assured the little scribe and rose from bed. "I am not tired. Would you call for Irri and Jhiqui to help me dress and bath? I shall break my fast in company of the Green Grace. I need to look proper."

"Of course, your Grace."

At dawn, the Green Grace arrived in attendance of a dozen of girls, all of them garbed in snow-white robes.

Missandei entertained the girls while she and the Green Grace sat down to break their fast.

It was more than Dany usually consumed, a meal of honeyed chicken, lamp, pig and accompanied by crushed mint and small green figs dipped in honey. It was Dany's favorite dish and two of her favorite hostages served the food and filled her cup with wine.

The doe-eyed girl filling her cup was called Quezza and the skinny boy with a tangle of dark curls was called Grazdahr. They were brother and sister and cousins of the Green Grace.

"They are as sweet as honey," Dany told the Green Grace. "Quezza has a lovely voice and Grazdahr is very interested in learning more about Westerosi chivalry. I will ask Ser Barristan to teach him."

"That pleases me," the Green Grace replied softly as ever. She was a very old woman with snow-white hair and thin skin. Yet her age hadn't dimmed her eyes, sad and full of hidden wisdom or at least that was Dany's impression. Unlike Dany, the Shavepate held only scorn for her. The old hag is playing her games with you, he liked to say. "But you do look rather weary if you do not mind me saying so, your Radiance."

Dany feigned a smile. She didn't like that the Green Grace had noted her lack of sleep.

"I commanded my men to attack the enemy ships, but it was no use."

The Green Grace sipped from her cup in silence and pondered over her words before giving her answer.

"I heard about it, but I have also heard that the Sons of the Harpy have stopped their attacks," she remarked quietly, her words cutting deep.

It was true. There was no way to deny the truth.

"Aye, they have stopped their attacks," Dany admitted. "I suppose I owe that to noble Hizdahr."

A triumphant smile played on the Green Grace's lips.

"And that is why I urge you to wed him as quickly as possible…to bring peace to your freedmen and the people of this city."

The Green Grace had spoken softly as ever, but the way she had separated the freedmen from the people of this city woke her displeasure.

I am still an outsider to them, she knew. They will never accept me. Not without a marriage.

"And you think marrying Hizdahr would help?"

"It would bring you the friendship and the love of the people of Meereen," the Green Grace assured her. "I am speaking out of concern for you, your Radiance. You have need of a king to sit beside you and to help you bear your many burdens."

It was true, but it was not Meereen she wanted to rule, but her home across the Narrow Sea. And it was not Hizdahr she wanted to give a crown. She wanted the crown for herself and for her nephew's sake, for her family's sake.

She had imagined it like this: she would rule and Jon would be her heir. She would pardon him and give him a good wife and a castle to rule. He would also sit at her council. She could not wed him, but she wouldn't be alone. With Hizdahr she would have a man to share her bed, as he had already fathered children on his current wives, but he was a stranger to her and not a man she could trust, let alone a man she desired in her bed. He was not bad looking, but nothing stirred inside her whenever she laid eyes on him.

It had been different with Jon, perhaps because he was of her blood, but taking him to her bed would only ease her loneliness, but not solve the greatest impediment for the continuation of her line: her bareness.

Yet she could not outrightly refuse the Green Grace's suggestion and thus she decided to remain polite.

"I shall think about your words, but it is too early for a promise," she offered instead. "You must understand."

"I understand, your Radiance," the Green Grace promised, but Dany couldn't help but to notice the displeasure in her voice. "And I trust Hizdahr to prove himself worthy."

Which is no surprise, Dany thought with growing displeasure. Mayhaps the Shavepate has been right all along. You and Hizdahr are playing your games with me, aren't you?

Dany sighed and drowned her cup. Then, she excused herself and returned to bed. The Green Grace's presence had brought her no peace, but it made her realize something important.

Dany was in dire need of rest. A tired Queen couldn't rule.

After she had slipped beneath the bedding she had asked Missandei to tell her a story.

This time, she managed to fall asleep easily.

The wine must have helped too, because it was close to dawn when she was roused from her sleep.

"Your Grace!" Missandei's bright voice roused her from her sleep.

Dany rubbed her eyes and gave her little scribe a questioning look.

"What is it?" she asked and brushed her hand through Missandei's tangle of hair.

"the Shavepate and Reznak ask for your attendance…a rider has arrived. From Astapor."

Dany's heart fluttered when she heard this. "Did my nephew sent a rider?"

"It seems so," Missandei confirmed. "The Shavepate refused to tell me more, your Radiance."

Dany didn't hesitate to hop out of her bed and pulled on the gown she had worn last night. She had no time for beautification and left without combing her hair.

As she entered the large audience chamber she found the Shavepate, Reznak, Ser Barristan and the Green Grace in attendance.

They look grim, which promised bad tidings. Her heart sank, but she couldn't allow herself to show fear.

I am the blood of the dragon.

"Missandei informed me that a rider from Astapor has arrived?" she asked without further hesitation as she swept her gaze over the assembled group of people. "Where is he?"

"Dead," the Green Grace answered softly. "He came out of the morning mist, your Radiance. A lone rider on a pale horse, already dying. His mare was staggering as she approached the city gates, her sides pink with blood, her eyes rolling in terror. Her rider called out 'Astapor has fallen!'. Under his tunic he was a skeleton, all bones and fevered flesh. The Bloody Flux, my Blue Graces told me."

The Blue Graces were healers. They would know what illness killed him.

Yet it was not the man's death that had horrified her.

"Jon sent him?" she asked, realizing her mistake when she noticed their surprised faces. She rarely called Jon by his given name in their presence. "I mean…Are you sure my nephew sent the rider?"

"He was one of the freedmen," Ser Barristan replied. "I knew him. A boy from Astapor. I am sure he was sent by your nephew."

"Why would your nephew sent a sick man to us?" the Green Grace asked. "It must be a sign of death and ruin…A sign of the gods. The Bloody Flux could bring ruin to us all."

Dany shuddered, but not only because she had heard grizzly tales about this sickness, but because she had sent her nephew to a city struck by the plague.

And yet she doubted that Jon have intentionally sent a sick man to Meereen. The man must have been healthy at his departure and must have fallen ill on the road.

No, there was only one possible explanation for this. Jon had sent him here to warn them. If Astapor had fallen it must have been besieged by enemies, the sellswords Xaro had promised her.

And if Astapor had fallen Yunkai would be next.

Dany shuddered, her mind a storm of confusion. She was torn between her longing for peace and her wish to unleash her rage on Xaro and his allies.

And then, she recalled the promise she had given Jon not long ago.

She had promised to defend him against those who would harm him. She had given the same promise to her freedmen and her Dothraki.

It pained her to admit this to herself, but the time for peace was over. It was time to fight.

"If Astapor has fallen it is only a matter of time until Yunkai falls as well," she told her advisors, her gaze seeking Ser Barristan's gaze. "My nephew must have sent this rider to warn us and I shall not abandon him. We shall ride for Yunkai and if necessary to Astapor."

"Your grace," Ser Barristan said and stepped closer. "The Bloody Flux is a dangerous foe. I must insist that you remain…," he began, but she cut him off.

"The blood of the dragon fears neither sickness nor death," she replied determinedly and braced herself for the coming battle. "I shall saddle my silver and accompany you to Astapor. We shall take half of the remaining Unsullied and Daario shall join his Second Sons to our cause. The Shavepate will hold Meereen in my absence and has all freedom to subdue my shadow enemies. My patience is at an end. If they want war they shall have it. Fire and Blood, as my forebearers would say."

Ser Barristan had fallen silent. Reznak, her Perfumed Seneschal stared at her anxiously and the Green Grace looked stunned.

"Your Radiance…," she began. "The gods will not look kindly upon you if you stray away from your path of peace."

"The path of peace brought me nothing but headaches," Dany countered, sick and tired of the woman's false council. She had thought she was a friend, but by now it had become clear to her that she was serving the enemy. "I shall give them what they deserve for harming my blood and children. Fire and Blood. Your gods may damn me, but Old Valyria had its own gods and mayhaps it is time I start praying to the gods of my forebearers."

Then, she shifted her attention back to the rest of her council.

"Are my orders clear?"

"Of course, your Grace," Ser Barristan replied and lowered his head in understanding.

Reznak spoken no word nor did the Green Grace.

The Shavepate was the only one who smiled and bowed his head lower than usual.

"I shall to my best, your Radiance."

So will I, Dany promised to herself and brushed her fears away. So will I.