Chapitre 1587: 3
Chapter 3: The Storm In Dragonstone
Summary:
Dany is back in the past.
Notes:
Even before I started writing 'The Threshold', I had written the following scene in Dragonstone. Yes, I had originally wanted to write a Time-Travel Fix-It fic that I eventually abandoned in favor of The Threshold.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
3.
The Storm In Dragonstone
Her body ejected upward into a sitting position as she gasped for air, the sounds of her sudden exaltation audible but strange as if someone else was in the room with her. Her eyes blinked several times to find some form, but there was only darkness. Daenerys threw her legs off the bed she lay on and wobbled on her feet. She felt like she was being fluttered and flung into the void as she raised her arms to touch any object that might feel familiar.
Then the darkness subdued and a few silhouettes became clear, barely illuminated by a dim light coming from a window. A window that was too small. Outside there was the sound of waves crashing against creaking wood as the soft lull made it clear where she was.
She was on a ship.
"Brandon?" she called in a voice that sounded alarmingly alien. Too soft and tender. "Brandon?" she insisted, though no one answered.
She looked around and tried to acknowledge her surroundings, but loose and blurred memories flooded into her mind, making her feel dizzy.
Pentos, she thought. Brandon Stark.
The journey.
The memories.
The memory.
"Some things are meant to be," he said.
Did it really happen?
Soft footsteps drew her attention to the wall in front of her where there was a door, which creaked as it was opened revealing a ghostly figure from the past. An image that her weak memory had done a poor job of keeping intact.
Missandei.
***
Pentos
"Tell me, why do you want to change the past?"
Daenerys searches in his face for something that would betray the slightest hint of emotion.
"The kingdoms are at war," Brandon answers simply.
Dany can't help but huff.
"The whole world is at war."
If this is about helping Westeros become a better place, no one can blame Daenerys for thinking it twice before jumping in it.
"You couldn't stay away from it, right? From the war," Bran says, looking first at the image on the loom hanging on the wall and then at her.
Images of a glorious past, she thinks again.
"It's in my nature. It's in every human's nature," Dany replies.
And she is willing to stand by it. Essos is not a more peaceful place than Westeros by any means, and the only thing that keeps her fighting knowing it might be a futile effort at the end of the day is the certainty that she was put into the world for it.
Does the raven think the same way? She wants to know.
"Kindness is also a human trait. Even more, I might say," he comments.
***
The storm was raging outside, with clouds blanketing the sky and battling each other as the thunder rumbled and the lightning strike far on the horizon. The powerful wind sent the waves crashing against the rocky bed of the island, sliding up until they rose up and splashed her in the face.
"On a night like this you came into this world," Tyrion Lannister said, standing a few paces behind her.
Dany could barely hear him between the noise outside and the sounds in her head. Images of the future colliding with the experience of the present.
A feeling of strangeness yet familiarity.
"I remember the dogs barking through the night," Lord Varys added.
Dany closed her eyes and shooed away the terror and shock that the voices of the two men produced in her mind and gut. If she wanted to go through with this she had to stifle the surge of her instincts that were telling her to run and remember that the slightest slip would only complicate things more.
She looked over her shoulder at Tyrion. His eyes sunken beneath all that messy mess of gold and gray hair. Why did she never see in his eyes the suspicion, the hesitation?
You were just a child then, she tried to comfort herself.
"I wish I remembered," she said, sincerely as she thought of a dying Rhaella pushing her last life forces to bring her into an unwelcoming world.
Daenerys swallowed hard and went along with the ruse.
Missandei and Grey Worm were also in the room and her friend's eyes hinted the worry present since the scene of that early morning when she awoke and fell into a bundle of tears in her arms.
As much as she wanted to, she could never know what Dany knew. Not because she didn't trust Missandei would believe her, but because it would have been to share the burden of this endeavor with someone who did not deserve to carry any. As determined as she was to save her life, Dany knew from Bran's warnings that perhaps destiny would find a way to take it from her anyway.
So what is the purpose of all this?
"When I was a boy, I lived in alleys, gutters, and abandoned houses," Lord Varys declared emphatically in the face of Daenerys' questioning. "You wish to know where my true loyalties lie? Not with any king or queen, but with the people. The people who suffer under despots and prosper under just rule. The people whose hearts you aim to win."
"Alleys, gutters, and abandoned houses?" interrupted Dany, a wry smile plastered on her face. The first time she had confronted Varys she had intimidated him as a response to his boldness, but she had been really willing to hear his speech. "Where do you think, my Lord, that my brother and I spent our days and nights once we grew unimportant in the eyes of our benefactors?"
Images of such a stormy night flooded her memory. No, Dany didn't need to remember anything because that was etched deep in her memory. Flooded streets and a roof that wasn't big enough to cover her and Viserys.
Dany focused her eyes on the spider's face.
"You think we are here for a reason, Lord Varys?"
So what is the purpose of all this?
An awkward silence fell over the room. This time his speech did not seem as momentous as the first time.
Tyrion, again, defended his friend.
Daenerys pretended to listen, but in her mind, she was already somewhere else, in the time after all the bad things that were going to happen, had happened.
Unless she could change it.
Starting with the moment the arrival of the red witch was announced.
***
"The red witch you met at Dragonstone, do you remember her?" Brandon asks her.
Daenerys nods, though she makes an effort to remember her face and name.
"Lady Melisandre, her name was," he adds.
Daenerys remembers that it was she who urged her to invite Jon to Dragonstone. And it was she, not her advisors, who brought the news of a King in the North when they should have known.
"She was the one who brought Jon back, wasn't she?"
"And then united him with you," Bran replies.
***
Daenerys wondered if the red witch would see it, the change behind her eyes. No longer the light that would flare the moment she mentioned the prophecy she was obsessed to fulfill but the shadow of a knowledge that should be hidden.
If she did, she didn't mention it.
"The Lord of Light doesn't have much of a following in Westeros, does he?"
"Not yet. But even those who do not worship the Lord can serve his cause."
But Daenerys this time only sighs.
"What does your Lord expect of me?"
It was the same thing she had once questioned the red witch of Volantis who brought her back, one of the many times she would ask.
Melisandre's answer was to mention the prophecy. Then the witch proposed that she invite Jon Snow to Dragonstone.
The ever-present pang in her chest made an appearance, as Tyrion claimed he had firsthand knowledge of his person,
"I can't speak of prophecies or visions in the flames, but I like Jon Snow and trust him, and I'm an excellent judge of character." Daenerys looked at him with eyes just as dull as before. He should have noticed for his expression grew taciturn. "If he rules the North, he would be a valuable ally. The Lannisters executed his father and conspired to murder his brother. Jon Snow has even more reason to hate Cersei than you do."
Did he? Daenerys wondered. She never saw such raw emotion reflected in the actions or words of the Jon Snow she knew for a short moment of her interrupted life.
Assumptions and grudges were not going to do any good for her fragile ego right now. Take immediate was what she needed.
"Very well. We'll send him a raven," Dany said, unsubtle resigned. "Once we have secured King's Landing."
***
Dany watches him eats and realizes how strange it is to see him so...human.
He lifts his eyes to her.
"Do you think you will be able to treat the past with respect?"
She frowns.
"I mean, will you be able to face them all without blaming them for the possible mistakes they'll make in the future?" he reformulates the question.
"Do you mean if I will refrain from hurting your siblings?" she taunts him.
His gaze is discreet but there is expectation behind it.
"Any event I try to change drastically will somehow force itself into motion. You told me that, right? What good would it do to hurt them then?"
It's the best answer she can give and the best Daenerys can expect from herself.
***
"Where are you going?" asked Tyrion when he intercepted her in the dimly lit halls of the castle. Dany had already slipped away from the Unsullied and her blood riders, who were none too happy to let her wander alone. "The storm is still raging outside. It's not safe out there," he pointed out.
No place is safe, she thought bitterly. It had been only a few hours since she found herself in this strange body that she did not recognize in the mirror, surrounded by ghosts of lost loved ones and enemies.
Her skin was scalding with the feeling of danger.
"I have to see the dragons," she said, hoping he wouldn't insist.
But of course, he did.
"I find it hard to believe they are afraid of the storm."
Dany stopped and turned to see him.
"They do not."
Tyrion snorted but nodded as he poured more wine into his chalice. He seemed to have been beholding the view the stormy night offered, sitting on the windowsill.
He looked her up and down. "And those clothes?"
Dany wore breeches and a waistcoat over her tunic. Hardy an appropriated attire for a queen.
"I feel more comfortable this way," she admitted, to which he responded with a frown.
"Last night you had a light sleep too," he said.
"Did Missandei tell you?"
"Not her, but what happens to you will not go unnoticed by your council."
"Sounds like you have a close watch on me, doesn't it? Almost like I am a prisoner and not your queen."
Tyrion stepped off the sill and stood in front of her.
"Have I done something to offend you? I haven't felt this belittled since the days of good Tywin Lannister."
She looked away. If she let her acrimony grow thicker they would soon determine she was paranoid, and if she was seen as paranoid it wouldn't be long before she would be considered dangerous.
She took a deep breath in and said, "I apologize if I have made you feel belittled. It was not my intention."
His eyes softened with something akin to concern as if he really had feelings for her. It was that very look in his eyes that had deluded her into the false belief she mattered to him.
How stupid she had been.
"Regarding Jon Snow..." he began to which she snorted and shifted her weight to the other foot. "The boy is good. Man, he must be now. He would make a great ally."
"I don't know him," she ascertained. "I don't know any of them. My allies, I mean. I can't just rely on their liege's support, that isn't theirs. Jon Snow was named King in the North just some moon turns ago. If we sent an invitation now and he accepts, it can only mean two things: either he is desperate for something we can offer him, or we are desperate for allies."
Tyrion opened his mouth to protest but she wouldn't let him.
"I will not receive the King in the North until I myself have been recognized as such by my own allies."
"Did you become political savvy overnight?" he quipped.
"No. I was always smart. But I chose to listen to men I thought smarter than me." Daenerys turned on her heel. "Have a good sleep, Lord Hand."
***
Dany barely made it to the cave in the mountains where she placed Drogon through their bond. She could only feel him. Their minds and hearts were so unbreakably connected, Dany doubted that Drogon was unaware of what was going on.
A soft vibration in her chest indicated his assent.
He knew.
In the dark vastness in front of her, a pair of amber lights shone and the silhouette of a shadow took shape. Drogon stretched his long neck to bring his head closer to her. Dany could see in the gleam of his eyes undeniable happiness.
Dany leaned into his hot, scaly body and hugged him while closing her eyes to drift into the sensation.
It was there she felt it sparked again.
The vibrations beneath her stopped feeling like a soft purr and rather grew into more like a roar.
She felt that around her the space became full, but not in a suffocating way. The vast emptiness that had grief-stricken her heart for so many years was filled with fullness. As if a lost part of her quenched soul had been reunited and ignited.
Rhaegal and Viserion were with her.
***
The woman's voice in his dreams was one he had never heard before and yet it sounded familiar. It was full of emotion, full of life. She was crying but there was no sadness. He wanted to stay there to see her face but a force was pulling him out of there as if the sight was not allowed to his intrusive gaze.
But he wanted to stay. And somehow, that was more powerful than the force that was trying to prevent him.
"Chapter 3: The Storm In Dragonstone
Summary:
Dany is back in the past.
Notes:
Even before I started writing 'The Threshold', I had written the following scene in Dragonstone. Yes, I had originally wanted to write a Time-Travel Fix-It fic that I eventually abandoned in favor of The Threshold.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
3.
The Storm In Dragonstone
Her body ejected upward into a sitting position as she gasped for air, the sounds of her sudden exaltation audible but strange as if someone else was in the room with her. Her eyes blinked several times to find some form, but there was only darkness. Daenerys threw her legs off the bed she lay on and wobbled on her feet. She felt like she was being fluttered and flung into the void as she raised her arms to touch any object that might feel familiar.
Then the darkness subdued and a few silhouettes became clear, barely illuminated by a dim light coming from a window. A window that was too small. Outside there was the sound of waves crashing against creaking wood as the soft lull made it clear where she was.
She was on a ship.
"Brandon?" she called in a voice that sounded alarmingly alien. Too soft and tender. "Brandon?" she insisted, though no one answered.
She looked around and tried to acknowledge her surroundings, but loose and blurred memories flooded into her mind, making her feel dizzy.
Pentos, she thought. Brandon Stark.
The journey.
The memories.
The memory.
"Some things are meant to be," he said.
Did it really happen?
Soft footsteps drew her attention to the wall in front of her where there was a door, which creaked as it was opened revealing a ghostly figure from the past. An image that her weak memory had done a poor job of keeping intact.
Missandei.
***
Pentos
"Tell me, why do you want to change the past?"
Daenerys searches in his face for something that would betray the slightest hint of emotion.
"The kingdoms are at war," Brandon answers simply.
Dany can't help but huff.
"The whole world is at war."
If this is about helping Westeros become a better place, no one can blame Daenerys for thinking it twice before jumping in it.
"You couldn't stay away from it, right? From the war," Bran says, looking first at the image on the loom hanging on the wall and then at her.
Images of a glorious past, she thinks again.
"It's in my nature. It's in every human's nature," Dany replies.
And she is willing to stand by it. Essos is not a more peaceful place than Westeros by any means, and the only thing that keeps her fighting knowing it might be a futile effort at the end of the day is the certainty that she was put into the world for it.
Does the raven think the same way? She wants to know.
"Kindness is also a human trait. Even more, I might say," he comments.
***
The storm was raging outside, with clouds blanketing the sky and battling each other as the thunder rumbled and the lightning strike far on the horizon. The powerful wind sent the waves crashing against the rocky bed of the island, sliding up until they rose up and splashed her in the face.
"On a night like this you came into this world," Tyrion Lannister said, standing a few paces behind her.
Dany could barely hear him between the noise outside and the sounds in her head. Images of the future colliding with the experience of the present.
A feeling of strangeness yet familiarity.
"I remember the dogs barking through the night," Lord Varys added.
Dany closed her eyes and shooed away the terror and shock that the voices of the two men produced in her mind and gut. If she wanted to go through with this she had to stifle the surge of her instincts that were telling her to run and remember that the slightest slip would only complicate things more.
She looked over her shoulder at Tyrion. His eyes sunken beneath all that messy mess of gold and gray hair. Why did she never see in his eyes the suspicion, the hesitation?
You were just a child then, she tried to comfort herself.
"I wish I remembered," she said, sincerely as she thought of a dying Rhaella pushing her last life forces to bring her into an unwelcoming world.
Daenerys swallowed hard and went along with the ruse.
Missandei and Grey Worm were also in the room and her friend's eyes hinted the worry present since the scene of that early morning when she awoke and fell into a bundle of tears in her arms.
As much as she wanted to, she could never know what Dany knew. Not because she didn't trust Missandei would believe her, but because it would have been to share the burden of this endeavor with someone who did not deserve to carry any. As determined as she was to save her life, Dany knew from Bran's warnings that perhaps destiny would find a way to take it from her anyway.
So what is the purpose of all this?
"When I was a boy, I lived in alleys, gutters, and abandoned houses," Lord Varys declared emphatically in the face of Daenerys' questioning. "You wish to know where my true loyalties lie? Not with any king or queen, but with the people. The people who suffer under despots and prosper under just rule. The people whose hearts you aim to win."
"Alleys, gutters, and abandoned houses?" interrupted Dany, a wry smile plastered on her face. The first time she had confronted Varys she had intimidated him as a response to his boldness, but she had been really willing to hear his speech. "Where do you think, my Lord, that my brother and I spent our days and nights once we grew unimportant in the eyes of our benefactors?"
Images of such a stormy night flooded her memory. No, Dany didn't need to remember anything because that was etched deep in her memory. Flooded streets and a roof that wasn't big enough to cover her and Viserys.
Dany focused her eyes on the spider's face.
"You think we are here for a reason, Lord Varys?"
So what is the purpose of all this?
An awkward silence fell over the room. This time his speech did not seem as momentous as the first time.
Tyrion, again, defended his friend.
Daenerys pretended to listen, but in her mind, she was already somewhere else, in the time after all the bad things that were going to happen, had happened.
Unless she could change it.
Starting with the moment the arrival of the red witch was announced.
***
"The red witch you met at Dragonstone, do you remember her?" Brandon asks her.
Daenerys nods, though she makes an effort to remember her face and name.
"Lady Melisandre, her name was," he adds.
Daenerys remembers that it was she who urged her to invite Jon to Dragonstone. And it was she, not her advisors, who brought the news of a King in the North when they should have known.
"She was the one who brought Jon back, wasn't she?"
"And then united him with you," Bran replies.
***
Daenerys wondered if the red witch would see it, the change behind her eyes. No longer the light that would flare the moment she mentioned the prophecy she was obsessed to fulfill but the shadow of a knowledge that should be hidden.
If she did, she didn't mention it.
"The Lord of Light doesn't have much of a following in Westeros, does he?"
"Not yet. But even those who do not worship the Lord can serve his cause."
But Daenerys this time only sighs.
"What does your Lord expect of me?"
It was the same thing she had once questioned the red witch of Volantis who brought her back, one of the many times she would ask.
Melisandre's answer was to mention the prophecy. Then the witch proposed that she invite Jon Snow to Dragonstone.
The ever-present pang in her chest made an appearance, as Tyrion claimed he had firsthand knowledge of his person,
"I can't speak of prophecies or visions in the flames, but I like Jon Snow and trust him, and I'm an excellent judge of character." Daenerys looked at him with eyes just as dull as before. He should have noticed for his expression grew taciturn. "If he rules the North, he would be a valuable ally. The Lannisters executed his father and conspired to murder his brother. Jon Snow has even more reason to hate Cersei than you do."
Did he? Daenerys wondered. She never saw such raw emotion reflected in the actions or words of the Jon Snow she knew for a short moment of her interrupted life.
Assumptions and grudges were not going to do any good for her fragile ego right now. Take immediate was what she needed.
"Very well. We'll send him a raven," Dany said, unsubtle resigned. "Once we have secured King's Landing."
***
Dany watches him eats and realizes how strange it is to see him so...human.
He lifts his eyes to her.
"Do you think you will be able to treat the past with respect?"
She frowns.
"I mean, will you be able to face them all without blaming them for the possible mistakes they'll make in the future?" he reformulates the question.
"Do you mean if I will refrain from hurting your siblings?" she taunts him.
His gaze is discreet but there is expectation behind it.
"Any event I try to change drastically will somehow force itself into motion. You told me that, right? What good would it do to hurt them then?"
It's the best answer she can give and the best Daenerys can expect from herself.
***
"Where are you going?" asked Tyrion when he intercepted her in the dimly lit halls of the castle. Dany had already slipped away from the Unsullied and her blood riders, who were none too happy to let her wander alone. "The storm is still raging outside. It's not safe out there," he pointed out.
No place is safe, she thought bitterly. It had been only a few hours since she found herself in this strange body that she did not recognize in the mirror, surrounded by ghosts of lost loved ones and enemies.
Her skin was scalding with the feeling of danger.
"I have to see the dragons," she said, hoping he wouldn't insist.
But of course, he did.
"I find it hard to believe they are afraid of the storm."
Dany stopped and turned to see him.
"They do not."
Tyrion snorted but nodded as he poured more wine into his chalice. He seemed to have been beholding the view the stormy night offered, sitting on the windowsill.
He looked her up and down. "And those clothes?"
Dany wore breeches and a waistcoat over her tunic. Hardy an appropriated attire for a queen.
"I feel more comfortable this way," she admitted, to which he responded with a frown.
"Last night you had a light sleep too," he said.
"Did Missandei tell you?"
"Not her, but what happens to you will not go unnoticed by your council."
"Sounds like you have a close watch on me, doesn't it? Almost like I am a prisoner and not your queen."
Tyrion stepped off the sill and stood in front of her.
"Have I done something to offend you? I haven't felt this belittled since the days of good Tywin Lannister."
She looked away. If she let her acrimony grow thicker they would soon determine she was paranoid, and if she was seen as paranoid it wouldn't be long before she would be considered dangerous.
She took a deep breath in and said, "I apologize if I have made you feel belittled. It was not my intention."
His eyes softened with something akin to concern as if he really had feelings for her. It was that very look in his eyes that had deluded her into the false belief she mattered to him.
How stupid she had been.
"Regarding Jon Snow..." he began to which she snorted and shifted her weight to the other foot. "The boy is good. Man, he must be now. He would make a great ally."
"I don't know him," she ascertained. "I don't know any of them. My allies, I mean. I can't just rely on their liege's support, that isn't theirs. Jon Snow was named King in the North just some moon turns ago. If we sent an invitation now and he accepts, it can only mean two things: either he is desperate for something we can offer him, or we are desperate for allies."
Tyrion opened his mouth to protest but she wouldn't let him.
"I will not receive the King in the North until I myself have been recognized as such by my own allies."
"Did you become political savvy overnight?" he quipped.
"No. I was always smart. But I chose to listen to men I thought smarter than me." Daenerys turned on her heel. "Have a good sleep, Lord Hand."
***
Dany barely made it to the cave in the mountains where she placed Drogon through their bond. She could only feel him. Their minds and hearts were so unbreakably connected, Dany doubted that Drogon was unaware of what was going on.
A soft vibration in her chest indicated his assent.
He knew.
In the dark vastness in front of her, a pair of amber lights shone and the silhouette of a shadow took shape. Drogon stretched his long neck to bring his head closer to her. Dany could see in the gleam of his eyes undeniable happiness.
Dany leaned into his hot, scaly body and hugged him while closing her eyes to drift into the sensation.
It was there she felt it sparked again.
The vibrations beneath her stopped feeling like a soft purr and rather grew into more like a roar.
She felt that around her the space became full, but not in a suffocating way. The vast emptiness that had grief-stricken her heart for so many years was filled with fullness. As if a lost part of her quenched soul had been reunited and ignited.
Rhaegal and Viserion were with her.
***
The woman's voice in his dreams was one he had never heard before and yet it sounded familiar. It was full of emotion, full of life. She was crying but there was no sadness. He wanted to stay there to see her face but a force was pulling him out of there as if the sight was not allowed to his intrusive gaze.
But he wanted to stay. And somehow, that was more powerful than the force that was trying to prevent him.
"Lo vēzos endiā sīmonus se ñāqot mazilībus," she chanted, and it burned in his chest as if they were being branded with a heated iron, "Pār kessa māzigon arlī, se daor gō."
When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. Then he will return, and not before.
Jon jerked awake gasping for air.Lo vēzos endiā sīmonus se ñāqot mazilībus," she chanted, and it burned in his chest as if they were being branded with a heated iron, "Pār kessa māzigon arlī, se daor gō."
When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. Then he will return, and not before.
Jon jerked awake gasping for air.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone