"My orders are absolute," Daenerys Targaryen said, standing before the towering Army of the Unsullied now marching under her banner.
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"Thverr stenr un atra eka hórna," Daenerys whispered into the darkness.
Magic snaked up the wall, slipping through cracks in the stone. To her, the wall ceased to exist. What had once been a solid wall now opened like an invisible window, revealing the scene beyond.
The change was not just visual. Immediately, sounds muffled by the thick rock grew clearer.
She heard Illyrio Mopatis' labored breathing, thick, like a muffled snore. Occasionally, the mattress creaked under his immense weight as his body shifted in sleep. But another sound, more subtle, caught her attention.
On the other side of the bed, a young slave girl lay still, breathing heavily and raggedly. She wasn't sleeping. She was awake, alert, but too scared to move.
The room was dark, barely lit by the dying embers of a brazier in the corner. Half-empty wine jugs sat on a low table, next to plates with food scraps that were beginning to attract small insects.
Daenerys watched the scene in silence, her gaze fixed on every detail.
Noticing the slave girl, she frowned.
"That makes her twice as dangerous..." she muttered.
Illyrio slept with no guards inside or outside the room. No precautions. Just a short dagger on the nightstand, a weapon he would, in all likelihood, not know how to handle if he ever needed it.
He could do it.
The thought stopped her for a moment.
She could go in, grab the dagger, and plunge it into his neck before he woke up. The slave wouldn't be a problem. She could take care of her, too.
It was so simple.
And yet...
...she couldn't.
If Illyrio Mopatis died now, she and Visenya would lose the only safe place they'd had in a long time. They'd have no home, no access to the magister's riches and contacts. It wasn't time to take that risk yet.
Not until they had a choice.
Not until they were powerful enough to no longer rely on men like him.
Not until Saphira was old enough.
She exhaled slowly, controlling the tide of emotions overwhelming her. With a thought, she withdrew the magic. The wall reappeared, the sound faded again, and the darkness of the hallway enveloped her once more.
For now, Illyrio would continue to breathe.
For now.
...
I opened the door slowly, making sure it didn't squeak.
The silence was broken by the creaking of the mattress.
The slave stirred, attentive to the sound and movement of the door. Her eyes fell once on me. An instant later, I softly murmured,
"Slytha."
She didn't have time to react. Her body immediately relaxed and her head fell heavily onto the pillow. Her breathing became deep and slow, as if sleep had suddenly overcome her.
My gaze slid to Illyrio. He was still asleep, his chest rising and falling with the same heaviness.
I had no time to waste.
I moved with precision to the spot where I had already located the petrified dragon eggs. They were kept inside an ornate chest, wrapped in silk and surrounded by cushions.
My hand reaches out for them and, carefully, I take them. I quickly stuff them into a cloth bag, adjusting the knot to secure them.
Without making a sound, I slide across the room to the window and carefully open it. A night breeze filters inside and I feel Illyrio shift in his bed.
Hurrying and ignoring him, I looked up and saw her.
Saphira.
She was flying high, barely a shadow in the night sky.
We didn't need words. Our mental link was enough.
I looked at her, smiled slightly, and without hesitation, let go of the bag.
Saphira dove with deadly precision. Her front claws caught the bag in midair and closed it firmly before turning and disappearing into the night.
The eggs were safe.
I exhaled slowly and closed the window as quietly as I had opened it. There was no room for error.
Before I left, I took one last look around the room. Illyrio continued to snore, oblivious to everything. The slave slept peacefully under my spell.
With light steps, I closed the door behind me. I had to get back before Visenya noticed my absence.
...
A few days later...
"Vys, what do you think of magic?" Daenerys asked suddenly, not looking up from the open pages of the book on her lap.
They were both lying in their respective beds, enjoying a good book.
Daylight streamed in through the open window, illuminating the pages of their respective books.
Reading was one of the few distractions they had.
Visenya raised an eyebrow and looked away from her book to look at her younger sister.
"What's the point of the question?"
"Curiosity," Daenerys replied, running a finger along the edge of the page. The book I'm reading repeatedly mentions the existence of magic.
Visenya snorted softly and calmly closed the book.
"I don't think it exists. At least, not anymore." She leaned back on her cushions and added, "It is said that magic disappeared from the West when Doom fell upon Valyria and the Long Summer Lands."
Daenerys frowned.
"But we have heard rumors of wizards and warlocks here in Essos."
"Rumors," Visenya repeated with a hint of skepticism. "People like to talk about what they don't understand. They may have seen some street trick, thought it was amazing, talked about it, and the story spread as it usually does. Rumors can't always be trusted, Dany."
Daenerys played with the edge of a page, thoughtful.
She didn't answer right away.
Because she knew the truth.
The magic was here.
It lived in her.
She wished she could tell Visenya right away, but she knew she wasn't ready to understand it yet.
Visenya had a lot of questions about it, and she didn't have answers to all of them.
When she was born as Daenerys, when she came into this world, she simply knew about magic.
Or, more correctly, she was born with the knowledge of the Old Language, a language where every word was imbued with magic.
Every sound she made could "alter reality."
For example:
Brisingr → Fire = Summons and manipulates flames.
Adurna → Water = Summons and creates streams of water.
Simple words, simple spells.
But... what about those more complex words?
Jierda → Break = Tear, shatter, destroy.
She had never used it against anyone, but she knew what would happen if she did. She could break not just objects, but bodies. Bones, flesh, lives...
And it wasn't even her deadliest spell.
Deyja → Death = Extinguishes existence in an instant.
You'd think such a powerful spell would consume a colossal amount of energy.
But not for her.
"Even sharing my reserves with Saphira, they're still so vast that I could never exhaust them... not even if I tried.
In practice, her magic, which she decided to call Grammar, manipulated reality through words.
At some point, Visenya had to find out. At some point, she'd have to tell her.
That was why she'd suddenly brought up the subject. She had to start preparing for that day.
Tomorrow she'd talk to him about dragons. Let's see what he thinks about it...