[Chapter Size: 4800 Words.]
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Thrid Person POV
Essos, 296 AC.
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Daenerys looked somewhat lost as she gazed at Jon and beside him, her brother. Viserys lay on the ground like a bloody pulp, unconscious and still bleeding, in a state she had never seen before. As she turned her eyes back to the King of Artica, they wavered slightly.
The woman beside her seemed quite impatient in the silence that followed, crossing her arms as she waited for Daenerys to speak. The Artican soldiers around the camp remained silent, waiting for their king to proceed with the conversation.
She had a decision to make at that moment and couldn't help but think of her childhood, of how Viserys had taken care of her. For a moment, a small part of her didn't want to accept the situation, so she wouldn't have to abandon her brother, despite the monster he had become. There was some hope that the Viserys who had truly cared for her was still somewhere inside him, but another part of her knew she would never see him the same way, even if he changed. She wouldn't forgive him after the things she had heard and suffered, even if she wanted to. Viserys would never again be seen as her loving brother.
"When the time comes, you will have two choices. Think very carefully, for your future will have two extremes..." the voice of that woman in her dream echoed in her head once again, as she spoke her final words before the dream ended. And Daenerys felt somewhat out of place because of it.
Then, despite her nerves, she looked into Jon Artica's eyes, who continued to stare at her, waiting for her response. Trying to maintain a firm posture, she broke the silence. "Why should I believe you?"
She raised her voice for the first time, no longer seeming so much like a scared girl. Jon raised an eyebrow, intrigued, and she continued, "You're a stranger. You just suddenly appear and say you're my relative, my nephew... I'll be honest... this is too much for me in the last few days... What makes you think I would just accept going with you, considering we're strangers to each other... You could treat me the same way my brother treated me. What makes you think I wouldn't be betrayed by you too? After all, everyone has betrayed us..." She murmured, waiting for his response as she tried to keep her gaze on Jon's green eyes.
Jon just sighed. "Well, that's fair," he began. "But look at us. Do we seem like savages, as you thought?" He asked calmly, as his hand lifted slightly, as if to indicate all the Articans there.
"No... you're nothing like the savages I heard about..." she admitted.
"HEY, don't call me a savage! We were free folk before becoming Articans, free folk!" Someone roared so loudly that it shattered Daenerys's confidence as she looked at him in fear, it being none other than Tormund, wearing a helmet stained with blood.
"Don't scare her, Tormund..." Jon said, raising his hand to the man who spat on the ground. Tormund merely grumbled, refraining from continuing his loud complaints about trivial things.
"As you can see, we are not like those who want to sow discord among us, as they describe us... But I can't prove right now that I am your blood... However, tell me, answer me one thing first: what do you think would happen to you at the end of this journey through the desert?" Jon asked.
Daenerys seemed a bit lost with that question and trembled at the lips before pondering. "I would be sold to some Khal, marrying him so that my brother would have an army to conquer the Seven Kingdoms," she said.
"And tell me, would you be happy with that future?" he asked again.
As Daenerys's eyes trembled at the question, she answered, seeing nothing good in it. "No," she said, almost unable to continue.
"How about this, aunt, if I may call you that? Come with me, and I give you my word, I swear by everything sacred, by all my gods, that I will not harm you. But I would like a chance to prove that we are family. I want you to meet Aemon, who can live in Artica a much better life than what you're describing. After all, you're an innocent girl; you don't deserve to go through this," Jon said, looking at her with a calm and even loving gaze. After all, she was his kin, his blood.
Daenerys struggled internally upon hearing this. It seemed like a point of no return to follow this group she had known for such a short time, and she was uncertain about anything with them, aside from what she had heard and seen in the past few days.
So, as much as she was tempted to accept the offer of meeting relatives she had never seen, the idea that there were more Targaryens out there, a part of her truly wanted to believe that Jon was a relative, that she saw him as her nephew... But with the uncertainty she felt, she remembered the dream of the woman and the children, and before that, of the dragon and that city...
"Answer me one thing," she suddenly requested, while Jon waited for her to continue. "Is it true that there's a giant tree in the middle of the city of Artica?" she asked, as everyone around looked at her with curiosity.
"Arya told you that?" Jon asked, raising an eyebrow, slightly dissatisfied, as he didn't want her to speak about his kingdom or such things concerning it in this way, as it was still a secret.
"No... I... I had a dream," she stammered, admitting it as Jon raised an eyebrow.
"You dream of Artica?" He couldn't help but be curious and intrigued by this.
"I dreamed last night, after applying the ointment... and I also saw a dragon there... Is that true? Do you have a dragon?!" she let her voice rise louder than she intended, with some expectation, but then suddenly, everyone around began to laugh.
"So, there aren't any dragons there?" she murmured in embarrassment, feeling ridiculed by the question, something common for someone to ask for a dragon in these times, after all, they had been extinct for a long time.
As a Targaryen, she dreamed of having these creatures again under her family's control and, preferably, between her legs as she rode them through the sky like a horse.
"Girl, it seems you dreamed too little. There isn't just one dragon in Artica, there are at least thirteen of them..." Ygritte responded beside her, raising an eyebrow at Daenerys, who looked quite shocked, wondering if she was lying or something.
"What do you mean, thirteen dragons?" she murmured, wanting to know.
Jon took a few steps closer, analyzing her. "You used that ointment and dreamed of Artica right afterward?" he asked curiously as Daenerys nodded, though she was still waiting for an answer to her question.
"That ointment had magic from the Children of the Forest... it must have activated something in you... maybe you're like Daenys, the Dreamer..." He couldn't help but murmur, considering the possibility that she had some clairvoyance magic triggered by a magical stimulus, but it was too early to confirm anything, so he turned his attention back to the girl.
"Yes, everything you dreamed is true," he affirmed at last, while Daenerys still tried to recall more details from her dream, such as the woman who had spoken those words: 'You will have a choice.' And also the children, who were all... hers? If that woman was her... 'then who could be the father?' she thought before looking at Jon, noticing his features in the older boy, whom she had paid the most attention to before her eyes had focused solely on the woman when she appeared. This thought quickly raised her eyebrow before a blush appeared on her face, and she quickly averted her eyes from him, not wanting to reveal her thoughts.
Jon merely stood there in silence, waiting for his aunt to decide to come with him. She was true family, someone he didn't even know existed and now had the chance to help.
"And my brother?" she suddenly asked despite her shyness, still wanting to know what would become of Viserys, as a small part of her was still a little concerned about her own blood.
"I won't take him, no matter what you say, aunt. This man is a plague, and if it were up to me, I'd kill him right here and now," Jon spoke sincerely.
"No, don't kill him!" Daenerys pleaded, not wanting her only brother to die. Then she looked at Jon and finally made her decision. "Alright, I'll go with you. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. I want you to prove to me that you really are my relative, a Targaryen, and I want to see your kingdom..." she said at last, though her voice wasn't as confident as she had imagined. Jon nodded, smiling at his innocent aunt.
"Great. Put her in the wagon and let's organize things before heading back to the coast. After we clean up this mess, release all the soldiers we've captured who are still alive. There's no point in keeping them with us; let them find their way back on their own," Jon said at last, as his men quickly began giving orders throughout the camp to the other Articans.
"Come with me, girl," Daenerys heard the red-haired woman beside her say. With no other choice, she ended up following her and soon found herself being placed inside a nearby wagon.
Another Artican woman appeared as soon as the redhead returned to join Jon. "Take this, it will ease your wounds, and there are better clothes to wear in the wagon. These are dresses that the king ordered exclusively for his kin, so they are the finest in Artica." The woman smiled as she handed over the items, and Daenerys nodded in response.
She felt a little lost with all of this. Her gaze drifted to the window as soon as she entered the wagon, and the door was closed—though not locked as she had feared. She watched the men organizing the camp, wondering if she would ever see her brother again after this. She accepted the possibility and knew deep down that she might never see him again. Perhaps, with some hope, that dream was her future in Artica, that it was her current self in that vision.
As the Artican soldiers finally finished and began leaving the camp, mounting their horses and starting the journey back to the coast, where they had hidden a few ships a few hours earlier, Jon maintained direct surveillance on Pentos from the moment they left and did not head south as soon as Pentos disappeared beyond the horizon.
As soon as he learned that his uncle and Illyrio were plotting, primarily under the influence of the latter, who seemed to manipulate Viserys very well, he quickly commanded them to move to the coast and intercept the group fleeing into the desert.
Now, Jon was happy to have his aunt with him, or at least she had given him the chance to get to know her better. He wanted to show her Artica, leaving her brother behind to live only by his luck, which Jon believed wouldn't last long.
Before heading to the wagons, he also didn't miss the opportunity to catch a raven and attach a scroll to it, watching it fly into the darkness of the night, sending it back to Pentos. In no time, Illyrio would know what had happened. And as Jon noted, the Magister wanted to separate the Targaryens as far away from him as possible. He didn't know how his business with Pentos would fare, but he didn't care anymore, as the most important thing was having his aunt rather than negotiating with that city.
This letter would deliver a checkmate against Illyrio. Jon didn't care about his plans, but if he tried to interfere again with his aunt and him, Jon would invade Pentos before hunting him down and bringing him to live in Artica, but not as a guest or even a citizen...
"I'll talk to her and join you shortly," Jon said to Ygritte beside him, who clicked her tongue, looking at him with suspicion. Jon went directly to the wagon, where he found the girl admiring the clothes she had been given, feeling the fabric she had never seen before.
That was until she was startled by his presence, clutching the clothes and looking at him cautiously.
Jon sighed. "Sorry about that. May I sit here? I just want to exchange a few words," he asked, and Daenerys nodded, not having much choice.
Jon didn't want to be seen as someone frightening to her, but he had no choice; he had to act and hoped that would change in the coming days. To help, he came to speak with her now, carrying something that would assist her.
"Well, I know you were hesitant, but I'm still glad you chose to come with us. You are my blood, and I promise to treat you as such. That's why I want to give you a gift," he said as he retrieved something attached to his armor.
He lifted the object for her to see, while Daenerys looked on curiously before her eyes widened, recognizing what Jon held in his hand after so long... "This is..." she murmured.
"Yes, your mother's crown. Now it belongs to you. I bought it in Braavos and intended to keep it as something very precious, but I believe it will be better in your hands. After all, you are her daughter," Jon said, holding the crown out in front of her while Daenerys gazed at it in wonder, carefully taking it into her hands.
"Well, I'll be going now. I need to be with my wife, but tomorrow we'll meet again, and I hope we can talk more, aunt," Jon said finally, as he began to rise and leave. He didn't want to simply stay there after everything that had happened; he wanted to give the girl some space to breathe and think before they had a better conversation and allowed her to open up to him.
They continued traveling throughout the night without any issues. Daenerys fell asleep while gently caressing the crown she had received, constantly thinking about what her future would be like from now on. A part of her missed Viserys more out of a dependency on her brother, as he had always been there to make all the decisions. Another part of her kept her heart a bit anxious about what awaited her with this unfamiliar group. That night, she had more dreams.
She found herself holding small hands for days, with two children by her sides, looking at her strangely.
"Are you alright, mother?" She let go of the two boys' hands and looked ahead, at an older boy, the one she had seen in her dreams, who was now looking at her curiously.
"Yes-yes..." Daenerys stammered nervously, not understanding what she was doing there while feeling that her voice was much more mature than it had ever been.
"Are you sure...?" None of the children seemed convinced as they eyed her suspiciously.
"Whatever... you must be missing father. Come on, we're almost at the ancient dragon!!" the older boy exclaimed, and she had no choice but to follow him, though with very cautious steps, not knowing what she was doing there with children calling her mother.
They proceeded to one of the last platforms of the mountain, where she was met with an open sky full of clouds and dragons flying all around. "This...?!" She seemed shocked.
"HAHAHAHA!!" The children appeared excited as they laughed, pointing at the dozens of dragons flying through the sky. They seemed accustomed to this sight, but Daenerys was in shock.
"I see you've arrived..." An ancient voice was suddenly heard.
"Yes!!! I came to hear your stories...! Tell me more about Valyria!!" The older boy exclaimed, which caught Daenerys's attention. She then saw a gigantic, entirely white dragon, with a beard below its neck, resembling an old man, though its gaze was sharp. But what startled Daenerys the most was that the voice she had heard earlier came from that dragon, while her supposed son ran toward it, talking. And just as she expected, the dragon actually responded to the boy.
"Hohoho. Of course, why don't you sit down for a bit, and we'll start a new history lesson, my little dragon." The dragon's voice resonated through the area, while there were no other dragons there that could speak, with all of them roaring across the sky.
"But first... I feel that my mother is acting strange... is something wrong with her?" The boy suddenly spoke with concern, while Daenerys froze, wondering what was going to happen to her.
"Her?" The dragon raised its head, staring at her, as if studying her with a sharp gaze before its expression softened. "She's fine... she's just thinking about her future," the dragon replied gently before continuing. "Let's begin with some stories of my life in Valyria, but first..." It said directly to Daenerys, "You need to return, for you cannot just keep dreaming of your future. Live in the present more than anything, my girl. I hope to see you soon." The dragon simply responded before she felt a wave of nausea and the entire space began to blur, while the children exclaimed in concern for their mother, and Daenerys found herself waking up inside the tent again with gentle knocks at the door.
"Daenerys Targaryen... The king requests that you join him for the first meal," she heard the woman who appeared after the queen say.
"Alright, I'm coming," she murmured, still a bit dazed, trying not to dwell too much on her dream as she dressed in something that had been provided.
She soon exited and was treated well by everyone, despite her initial fear, as she sat down to speak with Jon. There was a red-haired woman beside him, whom she recognized as Jon's wife. The woman nodded in acknowledgment but maintained a sharp gaze on her for some reason, though it wasn't quite hostile.
"Well, aunt, let me introduce you. This is my wife, Ygritte Artica, Queen of Artica. We have a daughter, and she looks just like you in coloring," Jon said with a small, cordial smile.
"It's a pleasure, Queen Ingrid of Artica. Daughter?" Daenerys murmured, a bit surprised, also admiring the beauty of this woman. But she soon focused on Jon's last words.
"It's a pleasure to see you again, Daenerys Targaryen, and Jon's aunt. Yes, we have a daughter who stayed in Artica, being cared for by Seryna, another queen. She has white hair and purple eyes; her name is Lyanna Stark, named after Jon's mother," Ygritte said calmly.
Jon invited her to eat, and they did so without anyone disturbing them while Jon asked Daenerys a few questions. However, she was still too reserved to engage in conversation, trying to get used to the idea of being called an aunt and being among strangers. She relaxed a bit when Jon didn't insist that she address him as king, allowing her to call him nephew for the time being.
They continued the journey without delving too deeply into conversation, keeping things basic while Jon checked on how she was doing and made sure she had everything she needed, though she was too shy to ask for anything.
Finally, they saw the coast some time later, where their ships were anchored. Of course, there were a few curious onlookers who had already spotted them in the desert or nearby fishermen, but it wouldn't make any difference now.
"Let's go, men," Jon ordered, and everyone nodded, heading to the ships as they were pulled from the shore.
With giants doing the heavy lifting, Daenerys was stunned to see these massive men pushing the ships and dragging them from the sand—there were at least 30 of them.
She boarded the main ship right after Jon and then encountered someone familiar. "Hey, you—you were rescued, weren't you? Clarissa..." Arya remarked, unable to resist giving her a mischievous smile as she crossed her arms and stared at her.
Daenerys immediately felt embarrassed, remembering that she had lied to this girl in Pentos. "I'm sorry about that," she murmured as Arya's smile widened.
"Don't worry about it. I know now that you're Daenerys Targaryen... Jon's aunt. It's funny, isn't it? Because I thought he was my brother for many years," Arya commented cheerfully.
"She looks so much like Jon's daughter!!" Wind approached at that moment, looking curiously at Daenerys, who immediately took a step back, a bit frightened by the sudden appearance of a Child of the Forest, something she had never heard of. Wind seemed offended by this, looking disappointed at Daenerys.
"Hey, you shouldn't act like that; you might offend her," Arya noticed this and said, as if reprimanding Daenerys, who looked stunned.
"Who are you? No, what are you?" she asked, letting her voice falter a bit.
"They are Children of the Forest, Daenerys. You'll find many of them in Artica, so don't be so surprised. I know you were startled, and it was my mistake not to describe them to you beforehand, but know that they are sacred to us. After all, they are closer to the gods than any of us," Jon explained, and Daenerys nodded as Arya pulled Wind closer to her.
"I'll introduce you, but first, apologize to her," Arya insisted, and Daenerys, unable to react otherwise, found herself drawn into the conversation, murmuring apologies.
She couldn't help but keep her eyes on Jon as she watched him giving orders, his wife accompanying him by his side. He instructed that the ships begin moving away from the shore, while the giants walked across the deck, and there were small men, introduced as dwarves, who grumbled to one another as they went about their tasks.
She also sighed when she saw a huge wolf walking onto the deck, while everyone seemed to shrug it off as if it were a normal sight. The wolf walked over to Jon, and another one soon appeared beside it, not as large as the first.
"Look, that's Jon's wolf, Ghost, he's 3 meters tall, incredible, isn't it?! And beside him is my she-wolf. Her name is Nymeria, and she's 2 meters tall," Arya pointed to the wolf that had accompanied her for many years, ever since it was a pup in Artica. Now, it had grown, forming a Warg bond stronger than any of the other direwolves under her control.
Daenerys now found herself involved with this group on their journey south. She had to wait to see this kingdom, after all, Jon had asked if she wanted to go to Artica or travel with them. She ended up choosing to stay with him; after all, she didn't know him and wanted to be sure of who this man claiming to be her nephew really was, and she wanted to get to know him better. After all, he was kind and aware of that strange dream.
Meanwhile, in another place where the sun was hot, a woman lay on her bed, looking out the window, enjoying the coastal breeze in a desert and arid land like Dorne. Until a knock on the door was heard, and Nyra carefully got up, putting on a dress as she approached the door, opening it cautiously.
"My lady, Prince Doran is summoning you to the main hall..." the man said respectfully. Nyra just adjusted her hair a little before leaving the room, accompanied by some guards, heading toward the castle's main area.
Finally, she was meeting with her uncle for a conversation with her cousins, one she hadn't participated in for a long time due to her unique condition.
"You're here," Doran murmured as his gaze shifted to his sons and brothers. "You all leave now. I'll have this conversation privately with her," he said.
Oberyn sighed but left the room, even though he didn't want to.
"Why must we leave... shouldn't I know everything?" Arianne immediately complained. The relationship between Arianne and Nyra had cooled significantly, as Arianne seemed to harbor resentment toward Nyra, looking at her belly with a certain envy, and she was too cold. Nyra, however, just accepted it, as it seemed her cousin was jealous of her.
"This is a conversation between me and your cousin," Doran insisted, and she chose to leave, leaving only Doran and Nyra.
"The Articans are coming here. We received a raven today about their sighting to the north, and I received a letter from them this morning... They are on a trade campaign now in Essos and seem to have been quite successful in Braavos. They are moving down the continent, but some ships separated from the fleet before going to Braavos, and they are heading here. The Artican Minister of Foreign Affairs is coming to have a conversation with me to discuss the situation between Artica and Dorne," Doran explained.
"Will you tell their king about me?" Nyra asked, hoping the answer would be affirmative; after all, he had to know.
"Do you expect me to talk about your condition? Not yet... it won't be very useful for us to discuss it now. We could gain more after we settle a few things," Doran spoke in a negotiator's tone, while Nyra frowned.
"But he should know," Nyra said with a stern tone.
"You don't understand, niece. The child you carry could be very useful to us if we use it correctly. It's not the right time yet. That's why I want to negotiate when he's personally here or when the Seven Kingdoms are in conflict with him. I hope he takes the Seven Kingdoms, and we'll help him," Doran said.
"Jon doesn't seem to want the Seven Kingdoms," Nyra scoffed.
"Not yet... but soon he could have them, as their king, and you beside him with your son being the heir to the Iron Throne," Doran declared, as this was the best chance for them to exact revenge and return their bloodline to power.
When he learned of Rhaenys's pregnancy, he was surprised, but after seeing what Jon did in the west and with the king... it became a blessing. Even though Jon didn't seem to like them much, with a child linking him to his niece, he wouldn't have a choice. But to make everything work, there were still a few more things that needed to be settled.
Doran looked at her seriously now. "And I don't want to see you appearing in front of any Artican, understand?" he demanded, while Nyra frowned once again at hearing something she didn't agree with. After all, she was carrying Jon's baby, and she had already expressed her desire to marry him.
Doran agreed with that; it was obvious that Jon was the best match. However, Doran wanted to profit as much as possible from this situation between the Articans and Dorne, and there were other wives, with Rhaenys becoming his third wife. Not that she cared about that now—after all, she only wanted to raise her child well and alongside the father, the man she loved and thought about every day.
"Yes..." Nyra responded with disgust. She was angry at how Doran was treating her child as a commodity.
She wondered what she should do when the Articans arrived. Should she hide, or should she tell them about the child she was expecting from their king? After all, she was sure that Jon would never abandon her, that he loved her just as much, and would be very happy with this child as well. It wouldn't take more than two moons for the baby to be born. And so, Nyra returned to her room, walking while gently caressing her belly.
There were some things she never forgot, and one of them was how Jon had questioned her about wanting to be a chess piece for her uncle. Perhaps she could become free and not be a puppet as she was beginning to feel more than ever, with the natural maternal instinct to protect her offspring, not wanting him to become something like she had.
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