Myr 301 AC.
Oberyn Martell.
Something about the Tyroshi rubbed him up the wrong way. That he was so close to the warlock, his arrogance, how he seemed to almost stroll around as if he was the one in charge or some other reason, he couldn't quite get a handle on what it was. Malaquo and Harry Strickland almost seemed in awe of him and Oberyn knew not why. If it wasn't that he supposedly knew how to nullify the dragon and that he had some previous relationship with Daemon Targaryen that Oberyn wished to get to the bottom of, then he'd have spent no time at all in the man's company.
Yet each time he did, he felt that tingling at the back of his neck that had served him well over the years. Ser Daemon felt it too, his former squire admitting that he was discomfited by the man's presence as well. So Oberyn had spoken to Malaquo about him and it had been made clear to him that they had no other choice but to accept Daario's help. For as much as the man wished to seek vengeance and mete out justice when it came to Daemon Targaryen, the dragon needed to be taken from the board and Daario was the only way that could happen.
The Golden Company, however, Oberyn did enjoy spending time with them. Never had he seen such men before and he was sure now that he'd witnessed naught but a mummery of them when he'd seen them years earlier. They broke the contract they had with Myr and had begun to march. Doing so with them, he found he could only be impressed. How quickly they set up and dismantled their camp, the orderly way they marched, and how much ground they covered, he very much welcomed seeing it firsthand. No army could match them, or so he'd believed. Though talk about the Unsullied's own marching prowess and how quickly the Dothraki could cover ground had been spoken of by Malaquo more than once.
" We hope to meet them in Tyrosh," Malaquo said after Oberyn had asked him more about the Unsullied.
" You intend to give battle?"
" They are sworn to Daemon Targaryen, Prince Oberyn. The Golden Company had hoped to find them here in Myr, for it was here they were based, and yet upon their arrival, they found no sight of them."
" They'd been forewarned?" he asked worriedly.
" Mayhap or mayhap they'd simply moved of their own volition."
" And you believe them to be in Tyrosh?"
" Lysono says that is where they marched to."
He could understand their reasoning, although he wished not to face the Unsullied even with the numbers they had gathered. Oberyn knew full well the tale of the Three Thousand of Qohor and Daemon had almost eight thousand Unsullied in total if the Golden Company's spymaster spoke true. He'd far prefer to face them when they had their full army to call upon. With 20,000 men of the Golden Company and another 4,000 sellswords to join them as they marched to Tyrosh, he felt the odds too even. Especially when compared to the 70,000 they would eventually gather.
Standing on a hill overlooking a small valley, Oberyn pondered on the battles to come while the camp was set up for the night. The cough from Ser Daemon soon informed him that he was not alone and he sighed when he turned to see the Tyroshi walking his way. He took some comfort in the fact that the warlock wasn't with Daario Naharis, but in truth, it was very little. Despite not wishing to speak to the man or to bear his presence, curiosity won out and with a nod of his head, Ser Daemon allowed Daario to pass and move to where Oberyn stood.
"Prince Oberyn."
"Daario Naharis."
"A wondrous sight is it not, the Golden Company in all their glory."
"It is," he responded uninterestedly.
"And yet he could end them as simply as this." Daario clicked his fingers.
"Which is where you come in, is it not?"
"It is. You've seen his dragon? Seen the man himself in action mayhap?"
"I have," he said bitterly and the small chuckle from the blue-haired man annoyed him greatly.
"He's a formidable warrior is our friend Daemon Targaryen. More than a match with most men."
"But not you?"
"Not me, no. I'll take his dragon from him, then I'll take all he holds dear, and finally, I'll take his life." Daario said and Oberyn now turned to look at him curiously.
"Why?"
"Because some debts need to be paid, Prince Oberyn. Daemon Targaryen owes me a debt that can only be paid in blood."
Oberyn nodded and would have left it at that, only for the man to begin to speak again.
"We'll find no battle in Tyrosh, nor one for some time. When it does come, we may even find fortune to be our friend and Daemon to be elsewhere. I bid you a good night, Prince Oberyn. We shall speak again soon."
He watched the man as he walked away, no, as he strolled away. Daario looked like he hadn't a care in the world and Oberyn understood it not. There was a confidence to him, an arrogance. While Oberyn himself believed that the numbers they'd raise would prove too much for Daemon to handle, he wondered why the Tyroshi was even more confident than he, Malaquo, or Harry Strickland.
"We need to keep an eye on that man, Ser Daemon."
"I'll see to it, my prince."
It was easier said than done. They could follow Daario to a point, and see what he was up to, but only when he allowed them to. Each time they had someone shadow his movements, they'd soon come back with the same story. He did little, walked around the camp as if he was simply on a stroll through the Water Gardens and then would meet up with Pyat Pree and they'd lose sight of him. When Oberyn brought it up to Lysono Marr and asked questions about the man, he was told tales of him being a former sellsword and how he was now a man that was held in the highest regard by some of the most important men of Essos.
" Not even we are feted as much as Naharis is, Prince Oberyn. Oh, true enough, we are treated well when our services are required, but we are treated as servants. Naharis is almost treated as if he's of the same level that these Magisters believe themselves to be. Even the Triarch defers to him somewhat."
" Blackmail mayhap?" he asked to a shake of the other man's head.
" No, was it so then he'd be bought or killed off. A remarkable rise Naharis has known in a short time. From the commander of a pitiful excuse of a sellsword company to a man who travels with warlocks and is welcomed with a smile by the great and good. Watch how he's treated in Tyrosh compared to you or me."
Oberyn did as he was bid. When they reached Tyrosh, they were greeted by some of the most important men of the city, but only Daario Naharis and Pyat Pree were granted an audience with the Archon. Even though many years earlier they'd almost sent Arianne here and had welcomed the man's daughter to the Water Gardens, Oberyn himself was refused leave to meet with the man. A part of him wished to put it down to Daario being Tyroshi himself, yet one look at Lysono Marr soon had him dismissing that thought.
For some reason, a former Tyroshi sellsword was considered more important than he a prince of Dorne, Malaquo a Triarch of Volantis, and the Captain General of the Golden Company. That wasn't the only thing regarding Daario Naharis that Oberyn spent much time contemplating. As he'd said, the Unsullied were no longer in Tyrosh, they'd taken ship and not a single one of them remained in the city. He feared they'd been found out, that their plans were known, but it was not Westeros they sailed to but Qarth. Why that was or what they hoped to find there, he knew not. Though he was relieved they'd not headed west, it bothered him that Daario Naharis had predicted it.
Did he know?
Was he working with Daemon Targaryen and not against him?
Did they have a spy in their midst?
The more he thought about the latter two, the more certain he was that the answer to both was no. Had they a spy for Daemon amongst them or was Daario in league with him, then Oberyn had no doubt that the dragon would have arrived to deal with them by now. That he had not, had shown that Daemon was in the dark about their plans. Which left only the first of those questions to be one that required answering.
As he thought about it more and more, he almost slapped himself in the head when the answer eventually came to him. It was the sight of the blue-lipped Pyat Pree as Oberyn broke his fast that led to the revelations and gave him a newfound understanding when it came to Daario Naharis. The magic that the warlocks possessed and the fear that magic instilled in people, as well as his closeness to the blue-haired sellsword. It wasn't Daario who was important, or not alone it wasn't, it was his relationship with Pyat Pree. The Shade of the Evening had led to the knowledge that the Unsullied had already left. But once you knew how the tricks worked, then the illusion itself was shattered.
While they awaited the ships that would take them to Dorne, Oberyn barely gave Daario a second glance. The man was nothing, a nobody, mayhap even a charlatan. Could he see the dragon brought low? Mayhap. Though that was the beginning and the end of the man's usefulness. He'd either do it or die trying and even were he to manage it, Oberyn doubted he was long for this world. This man was no threat to Daemon Targaryen, and Daemon's own magic was just as false as Pyat Pree's.
"Your time is soon at an end, Daemon. Your House will fall," he whispered to the wind as he thought of Dorne and the battles to come.
Volantis 301 AC.
Kinvara.
The visions in the flames had been as true as she feared and while she welcomed that she'd be seeing the prince once again, she wished it was not to be so. She'd sent word to the Fiery Hand, even though they no longer answered to her, and word to the Unsullied too. In her visions, it had been here that Daemon had come to first, and yet he'd find that he had arrived at a much different Volantis than he'd left.
Malaquo Maegyr had managed to pull the wool over her eyes completely and she understood it not. One moment the Tiger Cloaks were there in all their glory and the next, almost in the blink of an eye, they were not. Only a token guard had been left behind to guard the city, one that was not large enough should they actually come under a true attack. Though Kinvara believed the fight to be far from here and so the Fiery Hand and the Unsullied would meet the prince they were sworn to, elsewhere. As for her, she looked to the sky and sought out the sight of the black dragon daily. Eagerly awaiting its return and hoping the prince was ready for what he would soon be facing.
Today though, she had spent her time seeking answers in the flames and had found few. Whatever the nature of the battle to come, her part in it was limited and she understood it not. She knew it was to be fought in Essos and had always imagined that she and the rest of those who served R'hllor would play their parts in it. Yet, for the last few moons, she'd been tasked with sending her best and brightest west. It both vexed her that she knew not why and worried her that she may not be in as much favor with R'hllor as she had always believed herself to be.
"The prince, the prince arrives." she heard the excited voice from behind her call out and so leaving the flames behind her, she made her way to greet Daemon Targaryen once again.
Lyanax landed in front of the temple and Kinvara had just managed to arrive in time to see the great dragon do so. It as it always had, impressed her greatly. Daemon may be her god's chosen, but Lyanax was his greatest gift to the world. His truest and most powerful weapon against the Great Other, and while her faith in her god had never wavered, upon seeing the dragon for the first time, Kinvara had been almost overwhelmed with R'hllor's light.
Daemon was not alone. A man she recognized not and who wore the white cloak of the Kingsguard of House Targaryen and Thoros of Myr, both walked by his side and she offered her fellow red priest a warm smile. One that he did not return and she knew then that Daemon had spoken to him of her refusal to tell him of his whereabouts. It irked her some, though she understood it too. Both he and Melisandre had always been closer to the prince and Thoros had an almost fatherly bond with Daemon.
"My prince."
"Lady Kinvara." Daemon replied, his greeting cordial but not friendly.
"Thoros."
"Kinvara."
"The Lord Commander of my Kingsguard, Ser Arthur Dayne." Daemon introduced the second man and even she'd heard tales of the Sword of the Morning. His legend was storied and it had traveled as far in Essos as it had in Westeros.
"Ser Arthur."
"My lady."
"You must be hungry, my prince, tired? I've prepared your old room for you and for you too Thoros, we'll see another is prepared for Ser Arthur. Food and drink have been laid on and should you wish it, the baths can be made ready?"
"I'm afraid we won't be staying for long, Lady Kinvara. I have some questions and some requests and then we must be on our way."
"Of course, my prince."
They walked into the temple together, the prince as quiet and contemplative as ever and Ser Arthur was stoic by his side. Kinvara tried and failed to initiate a conversation with Thoros, and hoped that they'd get a chance to clear the air before he and Daemon left. Though she feared however that they would not. She brought them to where the food had been laid out and was glad to see each of them eat once they got there. Taking her seat across from the prince, she waited for him to decide when and what it was they spoke about, she didn't have to wait too long.
"Oberyn Martell, he was here?" Daemon asked.
"He was my prince, he held more than one meeting with Malaquo Maegyr." she replied and saw how Daemon looked at Thoros "There is more, my prince. The Tiger Cloaks have left the city."
"How many of them?" Thoros asked.
"Almost all."
"Grandmother was right. I must look to the flames." Daemon said rising to his feet.
She, Thoros, and Ser Arthur all hurried after Daemon as he made his way to the chamber of braziers. His purposeful steps led the way and she followed behind him eagerly. Kinvara was more than keen to see whatever she could when Daemon looked into the flames for answers. Her own visions were not always guaranteed to occur when she wished them to. She served R'hllor and he would only show her things when she needed to see them. So for every five times, she stared into the fire, she'd be lucky if she was shown anything even once. Daemon, however, saw something each time and those with him always were gifted when he was.
Upon reaching the chamber, Daemon looked at her, and Kinvara quickly took the key from around her neck and opened the door. Less than a moment later, they stood by the fire as Daemon cut his hand and let his blood spill into it. The vision came immediately and it was as terrible as she feared. A battle raged where the Fiery Hand, Unsullied, and Dothraki all fought side by side against monsters whose eyes burned the color of flame. Red Eyes, Blue Eyes, White Eyes, she'd heard Melisandre and Thoros speak of them more than once. This was the first time she had ever truly seen them for herself and the night was dark and full of terrors indeed.
"You saw?" Daemon asked both her and Thoros, the two of them nodding as he moved to Ser Arthur who stood to one side and looked a little shaken.
"What did you see, Daemon?" Thoros asked.
"That the path remains the same and little else. I know not if the Tiger Cloaks or Oberyn are amongst our enemies or if they are part of some other plan that's yet to be revealed. I'd welcome but one of those things."
There was no more discussion and little else was spoken about. When she asked about Melisandre who she'd seen in her vision, she was told that she sailed with others that Daemon had brought back to Essos with him. To her surprise, she was given a moment alone with Thoros and she found that he very much blamed her for not speaking to Daemon about his whereabouts. Even though he'd figured out the truth about her reluctance to do so that she had not.
"I know it was R'hllor's will and why he wished it so."
"You do?" she asked curiously.
"Had I been here it may have been me the faithful looked to, it had to be you."
"For your task was never to lead but to follow," she said thinking about Daemon.
"It is. So I understand that you simply followed his will and yet I cannot forgive you for the hurt you brought to him. You risked him abandoning his calling, Kinvara, and he blames you even more than I do."
"R'hllor wished your faith tested, Thoros, both of you."
"He had no need to do so," Thoros said firmly and Kinvara nodded her agreement.
"Keep him safe," she said softly.
"As much as I'm able."
Far too soon she stood at the doors of the temple once again, surrounded by priests, priestesses, and acolytes. All of them looked on as the black dragon took to the sky and as his chosen flew to shut red eyes forever.
"Walk in his light, my prince," Kinvara said as she turned to walk back into the temple, R'hllor's work still to be done.
Qarth 301 AC.
Davos.
He had never wished to sail to war again and had hoped that he'd never have to. Yet ever since he'd taken his place by Daemon's side, he'd known it was inevitable. As had all those who followed the young man. Red Eyes, Blue Eyes, White Eyes, he'd heard it as much as anyone had and he'd be a liar if he said that it hadn't led to some sleepless nights. Nights when the nightmares had come and felt so very real that Davos had found himself walking on the deck of his ship or if he was on land, going for a stroll alone in the night.
When Daemon had closed the Blue Eyes, he'd been thankful that he'd not had to play a part. Not that he was unwilling to, as this journey now proved. More it was that was the battle to come, then he had wished it to take place on lands he at least knew something about. The Lands Beyond the Wall were very much not those and so he thanked the Seven that it had been Daemon and Thoros alone who'd been needed to fight that particular battle. Before he'd then thanked R'hllor for their success and safe return.
He, Melisandre, Torgho Nudho, all of them along with Mathis and Dale would play some role in this upcoming battle and that thought had led to some sleepless nights as they sailed to where they'd assumed would be Myr or Volantis. Davos took some comfort, as he knew his sons did, that Asher Forrester did not sail with them. Even though they missed the lad and it had been hard to say their goodbyes to him after the years they'd spent together.
" I wish you well, Asher. You go and find that girl of yours and wed her. May the life you have together be the one you've always hoped for."
" I… Thank you, Davos. Mayhap you could come and visit one day? You, Dale and Matthos, Daemon too." Asher asked hopefully.
" I'll do that lad and I know my boys certainly will. As for Daemon, you'll be on lands near his kin, I doubt there is a thing in this world that will stop him from visiting you at least the once."
His sons had found it even harder to say goodbye than he had. Their closeness with Asher was one born out of shared days and nights and being of an age with him. Yet they'd been as happy as Davos or any of those who followed Daemon had been. For as with all promises that Daemon made, this was yet another one that he had kept. He hoped he'd keep the next one too and that it would be reserves rather than soldiers at the front lines that his boys would be used as.
They joined up with the fleet long before they reached their new destination. The Unsullied had moved to Tyrosh after the Golden Company had taken a contract with Myr and Daemon himself had flown to Lys to speak to Salladhor Saan. Close to one hundred ships now sailed with them and it was as impressive a sight as he'd ever seen. It brought up memories of the Greyjoy Rebellion and the fleet that had been gathered to take on the Iron Born and yet, not one of these ships would likely see a battle at sea.
To collect and transport, was their true goal. Every single Unsullied under Torgho Nudho's command would now be brought to bear and that alone was a sobering thought. As was the one regarding the Dothraki and the Khal of Khals. A man that Daemon named a brother by choice. That they were needed in the battle to come gave him pause, however. The idea that near enough one hundred thousand men along with a dragon were to be brought to bear was enough to send more than one shiver down his spine. Yet, Daemon, Thoros, and Melisandre all said that it would be so and who was he to argue with them?
" You truly expect such a large battle, Daemon?"
" I fear it, Davos. Not the battle itself, but the numbers we face and fight with us. I fear it's needed."
" Yet it only took you and Thoros in the North, Daemon," Matthos said.
" Had I known what we were to face, Matthos, then I'd have sought to bring far more to bear. We were pressed for time, the plans I had made or was in the process of making, had needed to be abandoned and so it was left to Thoros, Lyanax, me, and R'hllor's goodwill to see us through."
" We have his goodwill still?" Dale asked and Daemon smiled.
" We all walk in his light, Dale. Even non-believers like you." Daemon's words brought laughter to the discussion though it was stilted.
After they had docked, he made his way to the Valyrian, sure of the welcome he would receive. He and Saan had been friends somewhat. As true friends as anyone can be with a pirate, he thought wryly as he nodded to the guards and made his way up the gangplank.
"Is he aboard?" he asked, Malos, Saan's second in command.
"In his cabin, Onion Knight."
He nodded to the man and made his way down the steps that led to Sallahador's cabin. With a knock on the door, he entered the cabin to see Saan sitting at his table. The bottle of wine was out and two glasses were already filled and the smile on Saan's face was a true one.
"You are late, Onion Knight, I had thought to start without you."
"Well we can't be having that, now can we," he chuckled as he took his seat and the cabin resounded to the laugh from Saan.
The wine was as good as he expected and he welcomed the taste on his tongue. Though he didn't drink often and preferred ale when he did so, there was always something to be said about wine from Saan's private stocks. Where it came from, how he got it, those were questions for days long after this one. It was simply to be enjoyed and savored and so savor it he did.
"Your prince came to see me, gold and jewels of the like I'd never expected to see, and those just a taste. I had named him a liar once, yet you bid me name him true. I thank you for it." Saan said happily.
"You know where we sail to?"
"Qarth, the greatest city that ever was or ever will be. Though we dock at it not. Two journeys Saan is bid to make, one there and one back. Though methinks there will be fewer passengers on the return one."
"Let us hope not too much fewer," he said.
"We may drink to that, to that and the wealth I had sought for so long. To Prince Daemon and kept promises."
"King Daemon now, Saan."
"King to you, Prince to the Unsullied and the Red Priests, benefactor to me. I'll drink to all of them." Saan laughed.
He ate with the man before making his way back to his own ship. In two days the Unsullied had been boarded and together with their supplies, they soon left Tyrosh behind. Lys and then Volantis, where they stopped off to replenish their supplies and Melisandre spoke to Kinvara at the temple before they set off once again. Daemon had come here and stayed no more than a day before departing and he wondered where he was now.
Would he be waiting for them in Qarth?
Had he flown on to the Great Grass Sea in search of Khal Drogo and his Khalasar?
Or had he flown further in search of Red Eyes and if he had, had the battle already begun?
Melisandre was only too happy to give him some of the answers and he and Torgho Nudho listened to them keenly. Daemon had indeed gone to seek out Khal Drogo and would probably seek out the Red Eyes too. Though he'd not fight them without the Unsullied and Fiery Hand by his side.
The days stretched on to a week, then two, and finally they reached their destination. Davos was amazed by the sight that greeted them once they got there. Dothraki and the Fiery Hand both awaited them and though it was only a part of Khal Drogo's Khalasar, the sheer number of horses was incredible to see. It took him more than a moment to realize that some of those horses were for the Unsullied and Fiery Hand to mount up on and were there to take them to where the battle would be fought. Then just as the thought came to mind, he, his sons, Melisandre, Torgho Nudho, and no doubt Saan too on the Valyrian, all looked to the sky to see Lyanax and Daemon fly over their heads.
The Great Grass Sea/Qarth 301 AC.
Thoros.
Thoros had wished for more time, not for himself, but for Daemon. To find out that you were to be a father and then to be sent off almost as soon, was a heavy burden to bear. Especially when he'd only just been parted from his wife mere days earlier. Daemon had explained to him about the Maesters and the secret they were holding over Myrcella's mother's head, as well as why he cared not that her parentage would to some be a scandal.
" How could I care for such a thing, Thoros? Mine own family has wed brother to sister for as long as they've existed. While my grandfather was an evil man, my grandmother is the noblest woman I know. She is the daughter of a brother and sister, my father, uncle, and aunt are the children of a brother and sister, how could I look at Myrcella and think her lesser because I now know so is she?"
" You cannot."
" No, I cannot. She is the woman I love, and these fuckers wish to cause her pain. They wish to see her brought low and have only held back until now because in truth it's House Targaryen they despise. Well, let them find their way to R'hllor's warm embrace and see what they're wrought down upon them."
" You want me to come with?" he asked to a shake of Daemon's head.
" I need to bring Arthur and Ser Jaime too."
" Your goodfather you mean." Thoros japed getting a chuckle in return.
Daemon had returned and it had been done. Then both he and Melisandre had hit him with the news about Red Eyes. Thoros knew it had taken some of the joy from him when he'd then found out he was to be a father. The knowledge that he once again was required by their god and would soon be departing had been all over Daemon's face. Though since then, he'd been glad to see more and more good cheer return to his prince.
They'd flown to Lys and he'd looked on as Daemon had made Salladhor Saan one of the wealthiest men in the city and mayhaps Essos itself. From there to Volantis where they'd found to their surprise that the Fiery Hand had already set off for Qarth. He'd looked into the flames with Daemon, Arthur, and Kinvara and had seen the scale of the fight they soon had to face. Larger even than the one he and Daemon had faced Beyond the Wall and even the stoic Sword of the Morning had been shaken a little by what he'd seen.
" It's cannot be so," Arthur said.
" We faced things of the same nature in the True North, Ser Arthur."
" So many?"
" You've yet to see who we have to call upon." he said with a smile as they looked to Daemon as he spoke to Lyanax "My faith in him is as unshakeable as ever it was, Ser Arthur. Trust me, you've not truly seen the things that Daemon is capable of."
" Because he's R'hllor's chosen?"
" And he will save us all."
They'd left Volantis behind them and set off in search of Drogo and his Khalasar. While none of them wished to be here or wanted this fight to come, he could see just how happy Daemon was to be flying to see Drogo once more. It may have been merely moons since they'd fought side by side in Qohor, but time had a funny way of seeming longer when it came to missing true friends. Thoros had known that better than most, as the years he'd spent away from Daemon's side had felt like an eternity to him.
After making camp somewhere in the Great Grass Sea, he, Arthur, and Daemon ate their meal in silence while Lyanax flew in search of food of her own. The moon in the sky was full and its light kept the true darkness of the night away.
"Jaehaerys," Daemon said, breaking the silence.
"Your great grandfather?" Arthur asked.
"If I'm to be a father to a son, then I wish to name him Jaehaerys."
"And were it to be a daughter?" he asked.
"Lyanna." Daemon smiled.
"Good names, Daemon." Arthur smiled.
"We shut these eyes, Thoros. We shut these and the white ones and by the grace of R'hllor, I'll hold my child in my arms."
"We will, Daemon."
He and Arthur watched Daemon as he rose to his feet and to his surprise, made his way to his bed. It was unusual as it was normally he who'd fall to sleep before Daemon did.
"Mayhap he seeks better company than ours in his dreams, Thoros." Arthur said confusing him for a moment "No doubt it'll be Myrcella he finds there."
He smiled at that and when Lyanax returned, both he and Arthur took to their own beds. They awoke early the next morning and broke their fast, then quickly took to the sky on Lyanax's back. It was late afternoon when they caught sight of the cloud of dust and he felt Arthur grip him a little more tightly upon seeing it. His words may have gone unheard, but he believed they had not when he told the knight that it was the Khalasar and not the enemy that they'd caught up with.
Daemon brought in Lyanax low and flew over the heads of those who rode beneath them. Finally, they landed some distance in front of the Khalasar and had no sooner dismounted from Lyanax's back than Drogo himself arrived. When Arthur moved for his sword, Thoros placed his hand on his arm and shook his head. Then he and the knight watched as Drogo and Daemon greeted each other like the true brothers they thought of themselves as. While he then greeted a man he thought almost as fondly of.
"Rakharo."
"Ah, Thoros my friend." the young man said as he walked over to him while Arthur moved closer to Daemon as if to protect him from a danger that he was not in.
Horses were provided for them and with the lion's share of the day still ahead of them, it would be some time until they made camp for the night. As Daemon and Drogo spoke to each other with Arthur ever watchful on his horse beside them, he and Rakharo caught up and Thoros knew he'd be not alone in getting drunk this night. He may have tempered his drinking greatly, but to not do so when in the Dothraki's company would be an insult that he'd take no part in.
He listened as Rakharo told him that riders had been sent to bring them back to Vaes Dothrak so they could speak to the Dosh Khaleen. The Great Stallion had sent for the Khal of Khals and the fight that Drogo was always destined to face was soon to be upon them. When he asked if he and Daemon were to fight with them, Thoros offered him his warmest smile.
"You think we'd let you have all the fun." he japed to a loud laugh.
"We'll drink to the gods tonight, Thoros. To R'hllor."
"And the Great Stallion," he replied.
Waking the next morning he could remember little of the night before and he wagered neither could Daemon or Drogo, both men were looking the worst for wear. Arthur had refused to drink even a drop and where it may have caused an issue, Daemon's words had been enough to stop any before it arose, or so the knight told him. As he did about the celebrations held when Daemon had spoken about his marriage and impending fatherhood.
"To see such men cheer so, never would I have believed it," Arthur said shaking his head.
"He is easy to make friends with, Arthur, and once you have, a truer one you'll never find. Drogo would be dead were it not for Daemon. This Khalasar would be scattered and ill-prepared for the fight to come. Each of them knows it's so because Drogo will never let them forget it."
"Imagine what they'll think of him when we win," Arthur said and Thoros nodded, more than keen to do just that.
They stayed but one more day with the Khalasar and Drogo and arranged to meet them again in a week close to Samyriana. Daemon was certain that both it and Bayasabhad would be in the path of the army they were to face and Thoros himself had seen the City of Serpents when he'd looked into the flames. He hoped they could bring the warrior women to their side and beat their enemy to them. For should they fall, it would hinder their cause greatly.
After saying their farewells, for now, they were soon flying once more. This time south and to Qarth, or close enough to the city to make no never mind. They arrived before the Unsullied but not before the Fiery Hand and then with only one more day of waiting, their army had all landed. Drogo had sent horsemen with spare horses and Daemon had flown out over the bay to see their ships had all arrived unhindered. Three days after saying goodbye to Drogo, Rakharo, and the Khalasar and they were now marching to join up with him again. Red Eyes were on his mind and prayers to his god were upon his lips as they did so.
Dorne 301 AC.
Shiera.
They had sailed to Starfall rather than land anywhere else in Dorne. Not only was it closer to Hellholt than Planky Town or Salt Shore was, but it would give them time to do what was needed and be gone before the Martells knew she was here. Given their feelings towards her nephew and her own closeness to Daemon, she doubted they'd not make some attempt to detain her. The last thing she wished for was to give them a hostage they could use to whatever end it was they were aiming for.
Shiera traveled with two and twenty men. Four and ten of them were Unsullied, with the other eight being men of the Fiery Hand. It was not enough to fight off a true force, but unless an entire unit of guards was sent after her, she felt it'd suffice. Upon arriving in Starfall, they'd spoken to Ser Arthur and Ashara's kin and been helped to purchase horses and supplies. They'd been given maps too, though she had lied about her destination and suggested it was Skyreach and not Hellholt that she was traveling to. The lie she made up about having visited the keep when she was younger and wishing to see if it was still how she remembered it, being accepted, or so she believed.
Her guards seemed to welcome her silence and solitude as they rode through the deserts and kept away from the busier roads and trails. The Unsullied were stoic and while they spoke to each other, they did so far lesser than any other soldiers other than the men of the Fiery Hand. Were it not these but other men at arms that she traveled with, then by now she'd have been asked for answers to questions she wished not to give. Not once was she asked anything other than where they were going by either of the two men who led her escort. Black Flea and Larxus had both simply wished to know that and that alone was enough for them.
"Princess." one of the Unsullied said after they'd set up camp, the warm meal in his hand was one she welcomed even though she rarely had a true appetite these days.
"I thank you." she smiled as she took the plate from him and ate as much of it as she could.
She found the nights in the desert to be cold but then she had known far colder ones. Being Beyond the Wall had prepared her far better for what she now faced than it had for those with her. Yet not one of them complained or suffered too greatly. Fires were lit, guards rotated and each night she went to her bed, she never feared they'd be caught by surprise because of a lack of watchfulness on behalf of those on guard duty.
Not that she'd be caught by surprise ever again. The powers that she possessed, the ones she now knew how to control fully, would see to that. Shiera had taken more than one familiar since they'd landed and each night before they set up camp, she sent an eagle flying to make sure they were alone and under no threat. During the day, she sent more than one eagle flying ahead of them and had even reached out and taken control of birds that were located at Sunspear and the Water Gardens. Should news of their presence in Dorne reach Doran or Oberyn's ears, then she'd know of their reaction to it and be able to plan accordingly.
As the days passed and they drew ever closer to their destination, Shiera firmed up her plans once she got there. It had taken her some time to find out the truth of what had happened to Rhaenys after the death of Meraxes and her fate was a sight she could not unsee now that she'd witnessed it. Rape, torture, and finally the long-wished-for release of death. The Fallen Queen had both longed for her husband to come and rescue her and wished for him to keep so very far from the Ullers and their plans for him. In that at least Rhaenys got her wish. Shiera hoped she'd get her own as she now spoke to those with her and made more of her plans known.
"We'll arrive at our destination within two days, I wish you to camp some hours from the keep and the city. Two of you may escort me closer to the gates before returning to rejoin the others. From then on, send two of your best riders to where we part and do so each day from one day after you've left me. I know not how quickly I can do as I must, but I wager it would take no more than three days before I rejoin you."
"Princess should take guards." Black Flea said and Shiera shook her head.
"It would do more harm than good, Black Flea. It must be this way."
There were no more questions, no complaints, and no trying to get her to change her mind. Her words and her plan were enough and her orders were the only ones that the Unsullied or the Fiery Hand would follow. Unless Daemon countermanded them that was. She slept most uncomfortably for the next two nights. Then after breaking her fast and barely eating anything at all and sending the eagle to fly to the keep itself, she mounted up Together with two men of the Fiery Hand, Larxus himself being one of them, Shiera rode from the camp.
After she'd parted with her escort a little over half a mile from the keep, she rode towards it alone. Using her ruby, she allowed the glamour to change and was soon wearing a much different face. It allowed her past the guards on the main gate and into the city that surrounded the Uller's keep itself. It took her far longer to gain access to the keep and she had needed to ditch her clothes and wear some men's ones instead.
To any who looked at her, she'd look like a simple guard, and yet this glamour would not get her even close to where she needed to be. So she spent the first night performing a mummery of being about her duties. While at the same time, she sought out who she could be in order to first reach the dungeons and see if she was right about the body of the fallen queen, and then the Lord's Chambers so that she could gain access to the ruby itself.
"You're not drinking, Gerris." a fellow guard said to her as she sat down to eat her meal with those she was supposedly serving with.
"No stomach for it." Shiera sighed, making her voice as hoarse as she could and hoping it covered up the fact she was a woman wearing a man's face and clothing.
"You don't sound well, my friend." another guard said as he too sat down.
"Tired, I hope." she chuckled.
"Aren't we all." another man japed.
She was relieved that seemed to be the end of the banter and as soon as she'd eaten and felt no one would question her leaving the guard's mess, she did so. The real Gerris was sleeping in a storeroom and would have a sore head when he woke. Which hopefully would play into her claims of being tired and those of the other guard about her being unwell.
To her surprise, it was the chance to get to the ruby rather than the body that came first. She took the face of the steward after having gone to him as a servant and offering him what she'd found out was his nightly drink. A day, mayhap more he'd sleep for, and she was sure that was time enough. It took her almost a full day to gain access to the Lord's Chambers. Shiera did so in such a way that were she to be found would rise no true suspicions.
In her hand, she carried lists of their supplies, stocks, coin, and men at arms that Lord Uller had asked his steward to gather for him earlier that morning. Should he arrive as she was seeking the ruby out, then she'd use this as cover and say she was placing it on his desk for him to read later. So as long as he didn't actually catch her in the act of stealing the ruby itself, all would be well. Given that she knew exactly where the ruby was kept, she'd not be caught searching for it, thank the gods.
"Lord Uller will wish for these," she said as she coughed, her voice not being queried by the guard on the door who simply nodded and let her into the room.
Moving as quickly as she could once she was inside, Shiera soon found the chest and opened it up. The ruby was kept in a small little box that was locked and she needed to break it open in order to remove it. As she did so, she noticed other pieces of jewelry that had once belonged to Rhaenys and despite them not being what she came for, she decided to take them too. She was in the process of placing the chest back in its place when she heard the voices outside the door.
Hurrying, she moved to the desk and was just laying out the papers atop it when Lord Uller walked in and looked at her with a suspicious eye.
"Ulthor?"
"Forgive me, my lord. I brought the figures you wished for but you were not present and I felt it prudent to leave them here for your perusal." she lied, the words coming easily to her, and yet she saw the moment when she'd made her mistake. Her voice was her own and not the mummer's one she'd used with the guard.
The blow she caught the lord with was not a fatal one, but it would be one that he'd take some time to recover from. Somehow she managed to reach him before he hit the floor and though she struggled under his weight, she laid him down as gently and as quietly as she could. Shiera knew her time was up now, she'd not get to see the truth about Rhaenys with her own eyes and would instead have to accept that her vision of it had been true. Given that said vision had led her to the fifth ruby, she had no true doubts that it was.
"Lord Uller asked not to be disturbed unless it was important." she coughed again as she spoke to the guard "He wishes to look over the figures I gave him."
While the guard looked at her curiously, he made no effort to stop her and didn't follow her when she walked down the corridor. Once out of his sight, she hurried to a nearby room and changed her clothing and her face once more. She now wore a servant's face and it was enough to get her to the main gate of the keep. There she was almost stopped and would have been had there not been a shout from behind her.
The face she had worn had turned out to not be a lucky one, as the servant herself had just passed by one of those that Shiera had just done so to. It was enough to raise an alarm, but to her relief, she was through the main gate before it was locked down. Shiera now wore the first face she'd worn upon arriving at Hellholt as she moved through the streets. She made her way to the stables, paid for her horse's care, and was riding out the gates before the order came to close down the town.
"STOP THAT WOMAN!" she heard the shouts from behind her as she bid her horse ride fast and she smiled upon seeing Larxus and his fellow Fiery Hand member waiting for her.
"WE RIDE HARD!" she said as they joined her and left the city and what she would no doubt wager would soon be men seeking her out behind them.
They were not out of danger by a long shot. Lord Uller would send men into the desert to find them and they may still need to face a fight before they made it back to safety. Yet in her hand, she held the ruby and her eagles flew in the sky to guide her past any patrols. She would make it back to King's Landing in one piece and sometime in the future, she and Daemon would come here and take Rhaenys' body home.
Samyriana 301 AC.
Daemon.
Sitting with Drogo, speaking to him, and even drinking with him had been boons to his spirit. Despite not wishing to be here and hating that the fight had come now of all times, he'd welcomed the words spoken to him by his brother by choice. It was different for him, and for Drogo, both of them bore burdens that none other did. They carried their god's favor and fought not because they wished to or they followed someone, but because they'd been destined to. It created a unique bond that was different from the one that Daemon had with Thoros, Melisandre, Davos, or Torgho Nudho.
" You're truly to be a father, brother?"
" I am. My wife is with child," he said happily.
" Then you have more to fight for than ever."
" This is not to be the last fight I face, brother. Red Eyes, Blue Eyes, White Eyes. One I've seen closed, together we will close the other." he said seeing Drogo's smile appear at his words.
" And the last?"
" I fear where I may face it." he sighed.
" You fear." Drogo snorted.
" Not the fight, but where it may be. I've fought far from my home once already, brother. This fight too is far from my wife and family. I fear the last one won't be."
" No matter where it is, brother, the outcome will be the same."
" Let's drink to that then," he said with a shake of his head.
" Let's drink to the Dragon who'll mount the World and to him one-day sitting side by the side with the Stallion who'd do so too. Let's drink to them being brothers as we are."
" I can drink to that," he said happily as he swallowed down the mare's milk and welcomed a night of forgetting about almost everything on his mind.
He'd been able to do it, right up until he'd seen them once more. Red Eyes marched towards them and the ground had long been decided upon. Flying to Bayasabhad was more for a warning than recruitment. The battle would truly involve Samyriana far more than it would the Serpent City but he needed to speak to the Great Fathers here too. They needed to keep the city locked down for a week or more. To be on the lookout for the army that marched their way and most importantly, not to fight them should they arrive here rather than where Daemon believed they would.
Were it not for who he was, for Lyanax and the sight of Flame and Spark fully lighted, then he doubted they'd have listened to him, and yet in the end, they did. It allowed him to then fly to Samyriana and here at least the conversation was to be an easier one. Though explaining to the Great Fathers that the army that would soon be on their doorstep was not the one they should fear and instead one they should fight alongside, had been somewhat difficult.
" You may speak for the Lord of Light, Daemon Targaryen, but R'hllor holds no power here." Lazanor Sanerah said. He was the oldest of the Great Fathers and Daemon felt his words were not meant as a true challenge.
" Then I'll speak for the Great Other for that's who we face, Lazanor. My brother by choice marches his Khalasar here, his entire Khalasar." he said to emphasize the point "No doubt even here in Samyriana you've heard of Khal Drogo, The Khal of Khals?"
" He is known to us, as are you Daemon Targaryen."
" Mine own men, the Unsullied I have under my command and the men of the Fiery Hand, they too march this way. You think we do so to threaten your city?" he asked to a shake of the man's head "Alone and with Lyanax, I could see this city in flames were it my wish. It is not." he caught Lazanor's brief relieved look.
" What is it you wish of us?"
" Fight with me, by our side. Let us throw back this army that seeks to not just take this city and every other one, but to bring an end to any who live here. Together we're more than a match for the Red Eyes which seek to close our own."
There was silence for a moment and then Lazanor rose to his feet.
" You speak well, Daemon, I can see why R'hllor chose you as his champion. Our warriors will fight by your side."
" I thank you and may all of Essos sing songs of the Warrior Women of Samyriana when the battle is won."
" May we all be here to sing them, Daemon."
The leader of the Warrior Woman was a giant of a woman named Phiranah Naerann. She had a red ruby in each of her cheeks, and Thoros had told him that each of the Warrior Women wore iron rings in their nipples, though not how he knew this. The Great Fathers believed that only those who gave life had the right to take life. While that somewhat put them at odds with him, his men, and Drogo's own. They were willing to make an exception and name them as allies, if not friends.
They had much in common with the Unsullied too, in that their men were gelded when they reached manhood. Although not to serve as fighting men. Instead, they served the roles of farmers, servants, cooks, and scholars. It confused Daemon greatly when Thoros explained it. How but one in a hundred was permitted to mate and would one day become a Great Father too. Or why so many of the different cultures in Essos saw gelding as something that needed to be done.
Leaving Phiranah to make her preparations, he, Thoros, and Arthur flew back to rejoin their men and then marched with them. Upon arriving back at Samyriana it was to find that Drogo and his Khalasar had beat them there and he knew he'd be needled by his brother by choice for that at some point. All in all, they had close to 120,000 men and women in their army, and yet when they finally saw the army they were to face, Daemon and even Drogo himself were worried it may not be enough. Were he to give it a number, then he'd say they were outnumbered at least four to one.
"You are ready?" Drogo asked as Daemon walked with him to his horse, Lyanax waiting alongside for him to mount up and take the first of the fight to the army that was lined up against him.
"I am ready, brother," he said as Drogo gripped his arm, and Daemon closed his eyes, cut his hand, and set the shadows loose. Before then taking out Flame and Spark and more than a hundred thousand weapons lit up as one.
"May the Great Stallion bless you brother," Drogo said.
"May you walk in R'hllor's light brother," he replied as they both took their mounts. Lyanax roared loudly as she took to the sky and half a million pairs of red eyes turned and looked her way.