Daenerys I

Chapter Two - Daenerys I

Tyrion had received a raven from The King in the North, a response to her invitation to come to Dragonstone.

He's on his way, Daenerys contemplated. An unrequited anticipation clung deep inside her, waking her early with the hope of a ship on dawn's horizon. Nothing yet. The castle stones cold under her bare feet, she wrapped the lion skin of the Hrakkar tightly around her shoulders. A remnant from a former life, she reflected sadly. Sleep did not come easily since her arrival and only proved more restless with word of Jon Snow's timely visit. Although she already received guests at Dragonstone, this one, well, this one was no ally or priestess. He commanded the North and the Vale, his kingdom the largest in Westeros. He was formidable, respected by many. Even Tyrion liked and trusted him, a rare enough assessment from the most skeptical man she knows. Dany tried to imagine this man in the flesh, her mind wandering into that welcomed distraction while the incessant talk of war occupied her waking life.

The moment she dreamed of since she was a child, the return to her ancestral stronghold, felt like a empty victory. Dragonstone was in a sordid disarray and in desperate need of repairs. Parts of the castle had returned to the elements; from a wall collapse on the west battlements to a large rat infestation in the kitchens, the castle felt hollow and she quietly longed for the comforts of the Great Pyramid. Her Dothraki blood riders scoured the island on the first day and discovered that, save 2 old castellans and their daughter, the entirety of Dragonstone was deserted. The small villages below Dragonmont were abandoned for some time. Varys concluded that when Stannis Baratheon was killed on his northern expedition, the inhabitants of Dragonstone fled in fear of Queen Cersei's wrath. She set the builders and masons to rebuild the villages and docks. Restoring a sense of normalcy was paramount to her on Dragonstone - She meant to give her people a true home and keep her promise of a better life for them all.

Now, the highlands and cliff mesas were filled with animal skin tents as far as the eye could see, campfires dotting the landscape day and night. The island may be volcanic, but the grassy plateaus and rich soil fed the horses and people alike. It may not be much, but it was enough to keep the people of the Great Grass Sea sated for now. They were even getting good at fishing, paddling out to the shallow waters with nets, catching enough fish and crab to fed everyone. They've lost their fear of the sea, she smiled. The Dothraki will make excellent Westerosi after all.

Good Omens, Dany thought. And the King in the North is on his way to bend the knee. She pulled the white lion skin closer, shivering with cold or excitement, she couldn't tell. The cool air whipped around her, tossing her loose hair into a blinding cloud of silver strands. She fought her way out of it, smoothing the strays away from her face. Every morning she came out here, her small stone balcony set high in the tower wall. It was her hideaway, a respite from the world. She kept company with the intricately carved stone dragons that surrounded her, built before the Doom of Valyria. Those eyes were watching her, she knew. Let them watch. I am the Last Targaryen. My ancestors should be proud that I have survived long enough to return Dragonstone to the Dragons.

With a large gust of bitingly, cold wind, Dany scanned the horizon one last time before heading back into her chambers, closing the heavy wood doors behind her. Admittedly, she did not feel at home in this strange, damp castle. Missandei sensed her queen's discomfort and took it upon herself to re-dress the queen's chambers with as many comforts as they could gather; ornate candle holders, soft, warm rugs and blankets, chairs with pillows, and a fire that burned in the hearth day and night. Dany was so touched, she reciprocated the gesture for Missandei's chamber. Small pleasures made the dreariness of the island bearable. This strange, unwelcoming land was her home, her birthplace. She will make amends and learn to love Dragonstone or die trying.

Her chambers sat a top the highest tower in Dragonstone. The octagonal-shaped room had impossibly large panes of colored glass, a giant hearth and vaulted ceilings so high, the crackle of the fire echoed like soft music. Kings and queens slept here, lived here. Her family, descendants of old. Aegon the Conqueror and the Princes of Dragonstone. She will make this work.

A familiar rhythmic knock came at her door, Missandei, she knew. "Enter!" She called, padding swiftly around the chamber, her loose hair flowing with each step. She was in a good mood today, she noticed. Every day was an endless stream of council meetings and troop movement updates. But today, she was able to take time for herself. Just one day. Dany wanted to visit the villages and docks, to walk with her people and their children. Maybe explore the castle's hidden passages, trying to find the treasures of the Targaryen past, if anything had survived. She was definitely taking Drogon for an afternoon ride. It will be a good day indeed.

They had scarcely landed and settled in when her allies arrived on Dragonstone to plan the attack on Cersei. The Council met and a strategic attack plan was outlined. With orders given, the Greyjoys and Ellaria Sand departed for Dorne shortly after the meeting. Lady Olenna was the last to depart, leaving yesterday on the evening tide. Dany could recognize the sorrow and fury the Queen of Thorns wore heavy in her heart. The woman had survived her entire family. "A fate worse than death," Lady Olenna confessed to Dany while walking the castle grounds on her last day on Dragonstone. After a rocky beginning, Dany had come to respect and even admire Olenna. Although there was a distant coolness to how The Queen of Thorns addressed her, days of harsh attitude gave way to an almost maternal protectiveness - sharing her wisdom and lessons learned from the games the high lords play. By the end of her visit, Dany was sad to see her go. She will visit her when this is all over, Dany promised, gently squeezing Olenna's frail hands as they said farewell on the dock. Olenna held her hands tightly and imparted one final piece of advice, "Remember, you are a dragon, my dear, and dragons bow to no one."

With the Unsullied departing for Casterly Rock in 2 days' time, Missandei spent more time with Grey Worm under the guise of "keeping her Grace abreast of progress". Dany was happy they had found each other; their friendship and love had grown despite the sexual tension that continued to build between them. They read to each other, took walks on the beach at dusk and stargazed in the only garden on Dragonstone. A once rough and rotted stone patch overlooking the sea, the Dothraki women ripped the dead plants from the flowerbeds their first week on the island, planting new bulbs and seeds from the grasslands of Essos. Soon, the garden would smell like the great plains - alive with the scent of wildflowers, night lilies, and lemongrass. She hoped to see them bloom at least once before winter truly sets in.

Missandei entered and closed the door swiftly behind her. "Lord Tyrion is waiting in the solar, Your Grace."

"Please with the formalities, we are alone here," Dany responded, grasping her arm, giving her a smile and quick squeeze before letting go. She swayed herself over to the clothes she laid out for the day. Removing her night shift over her head, she adjusted her small clothes underneath. Dany moved quickly to pull on her grey leather breaches, soft and supple, well worn and form fitting so she could get a good grip on Drogon's back. She couldn't imagine a saddle for a dragon even if her ancestors had supposedly used them. Nothing compared to the thrill of riding Drogon bareback, although she might have to reconsider some sort of harness as he continues to grow.

Next, Dany donned a long sleeve, cotton boys tunic, perfect enough to fit under her favorite dark gray overcoat - fur lined and made of heavy brocade fabric, dripping with intricate shoulder beading and hand dyed red silk thread. It was in the Westerosi fashion with just a touch of the East, Just like me.

Dany sat at her dressing table and closed her eyes, her mind wandering to the weeks' ahead while Missandei worked deftly to brush and braid her hair. So close to reclaiming my family's throne, my birthright. She allowed herself to linger in the moment, even as the doubt rose in her throat, she pushed it down. Remember who you are, Daenerys. The voice from the stars had called to her all those nights ago as she wandered the Dothraki sea, lost and starving. The dragons know, do you?

You're in the great game now. And the great game is terrifying. Tyrion's words rang true each day. He likened war to a game of Cyvasse; one must study the whole board before making the next move. With her Hand's sound council, she was playing the game better than Cersei at the moment.

The next move was to secure The King in the North as an ally. An honest, fair man. she was told. And young, like me. She thought she was the only person in the world with a bonded connection to extraordinary, mythical creatures until she heard of Jon Snow and his giant white direwolf. He's not like anyone else in the world, he's more like me. The anticipation in her grew with a shiver, impatient and warm in her chest. Her interest was beyond peaked.

"I hope this Jon Snow brings his direwolf." She unexpectedly spoke her thoughts aloud, breaking the silence and Missandei's concentration.

"I hope so as well." Missandei responded, pausing a moment before returning to the braid. "The world is filled with beautiful and dangerous creatures. Direwolves are considered one of the rarest of animals, only found beyond the Wall of Westeros."

"A stark white wolf with red eyes from what I hear." Dany said with wonder, "Even rarer so."

"Jon Snow sounds like quite a man", Missandei playfully repeated the Queen's own words back to her. Dany glanced over her shoulder at her and smirked. Word has it that the King in the North was also a handsome, brooding man of few words, dark hair and eyes to match. Melisandre, the Red Priestess, had provided few details of Jon Snow sufficed to say he was a brave, honest king who risked his life for his people. She hinted to the deep strength and power his possessed, a part to play in this fabled Long Night to come, she foretold.

Religious nonsense, Dany dismissed. The Red Priests of R'hllor helped to quell the unrest in Meereen while she was away, and she was eternally grateful for the help. Their prophecies foretold of her birth and the birth of dragons. Dany was fascinated but also weary of it, so she kept all religion at a skeptical distance. Faith in herself was the only faith she needed.

Missandei finished the last braid, rubbed her hands in scented lavender oil and ran them through Dany's waves that flowed down her back. Dany stood, straightened her overcoat and silver dragon sash, donned her riding boots and headed for the door. Two Dothraki blood riders stood guard in the hallway, nodding to their queen as she passed them, she entered the solar where Tyrion sat waiting.

"Good morning, Your Grace..." he quipped, unable to get to his feet fast enough as Dany strode through the room with purpose, out the next door and down the tower stairs. Two more guards, Unsullied, waited in the stairwell, following down the steps just behind a hurried Tyrion and Missandei. She was eager to start the day, to get on Drogon's back and ride out along the coast to check on "progress" herself.

"We are hoping to have the Guest Tower ready for the King and his Hand by day's end. They will be here by tomorrow if the winds are fair." Tyrion began, trying to keep pace with the Queen as she bounded down the steps. She was headed straight for the council chamber, eager to hear any word from her allies or decisions that require her attention before setting off on the days' adventures. Any new word from the King in the North?

She arrived at the council chamber, Varys and Grey Worm were already waiting. They bowed as she walked pass, making her way to the head of the Painted Table. She peered out the columned window, scanning the horizon once again, her dragons in the distance, swooping over the sunlit sea. She relented, turned and sat, everyone followed suit.

She surveyed her advisors, each with their own perspective and field of knowledge. There was so much to discuss. Looking from Tyrion to Varys and back again, she cleared her throat and began the meeting with "Tell me everything you know about Jon Snow."

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