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Published:2020-04-25Updated:2026-04-06Words:409,591Chapters:71/?Comments:5,535Kudos:6,019Bookmarks:1,659Hits:466,902
The Stormborn and the Stormbringer
SkilledWarriorKiwi
Chapter 16: BRAAVOS
Summary:
Ghidorah is Westeros Drogon size
Lol but remember when D&D had Cersei say the Iron Bank had invested heavily in the slave trade, despite Braavos being founded by escaped slaves, have a city where the very first law is that none shall be a slave, and that they refuse to trade with the slaver cities? They'd be totally on the side of the Breaker of Chains, along with being very aware how dangerous dragons really are, but Dumb and Dumbass just didn't even care at the end
Chapter Text
The city of Braavos was all waterfront. To the north was the Purple Harbor where Braavosi traders were tied up beneath the domes and towers of the Sealord's Palace. To the west lay the Ragman's Harbor which was thick with ships from the other Free Cities, from Westeros and Ibben and the fabled, far-off lands of the east and south of Essos. And everywhere else were little piers and ferry berths and old grey wharves where shrimpers and crabbers and fisherfolk moored after working the mudflats and river mouths and jagged reefs, selling an immense array of exotic fish and ocean creatures.
"We can't go to the docks. It would be too great a strain on you."
"Then go in my stead and bring me someone who has seen the dragons."
Sam sighed, "Maester, it was only a story. A sailor's story. They talk of all manner of things if they think it'll give them a free meal or a pint of ale."
The ship voyage from the Wall had been arduous, the ocean gales constantly chasing them across the narrow sea with sometimes the ship itself freezing over as if encased in crystal and the persistent chill had settled deep within Aemon's lungs. The inn room they were in was cold, the hearth lacking any wood. Wood was so expensive in Braavos, the isle a beacon of trade and trees stripped and long gone to make way for the great stretching docks and bustling markets. Their bag of silver was now all but empty with Sam barely affording a healer from the House of the Red Hands to see to Aemon and even then the man's only advice was to make Aemon comfortable.
'Ointments I have, potions and infusions and salves, tinctures and venoms and poultices. But no leech or potion can make him young again. This is an old man and death is sitting heavy in his lungs. Give him this flask of dreamwine and let him sleep. That is all that is left for him,' the healer had told Sam but not unkindly,
Sam had tried, despite the healer's words but Aemon steadily grew weaker as time passed. He couldn't understand it, Aemon had been of that age upon the Wall and had remained alive and with his wits. Now he would mumble in his sleep or would mistake Sam for Egg, asking him nonsensical questions or waking up confused at how he could see nothing. Gilly had watched it occur sadly, hair stringy and form shivering as she clutched her babe close. No, not her son. Rather the son of the King-beyond-the-Wall. He could still scarcely believe Jon had done such a thing despite Aemon telling him Gilly's sobbing during their sea journey was of grief, not fear. That Jon had forced Gilly to abandon her son, to prevent Stannis and his red witch from having another of kings blood to throw into a fire for their red god. Aemon had said it was Lord Snow who made that decision, not Jon, and Sam didn't know what to think of his friend. At knowing Gilly lost her son after everything they'd been through together beyond the Wall only to lose him among the Night's Watch. To lose her son due to Jon.
He pushed that away, instead saying to Aemon, "I don't know enough High Valyrian and I can barely understand Braavosi and not enough to be of use. You speak more tongues than I do, once you are stronger you can-"
"Do what, Sam? When will I be stronger?" Aemon wheezed, his blind eyes staring at the ceiling.
"Soon," Sam said, "You just need to rest and eat. When we reach Oldtown-"
"I shall not see Oldtown again. I know that now. My time is coming swiftly," The old man tightened his grip on Sam's arm, bony fingers biting into the black cloth, "I will be with my brothers soon. Some were bound to me by vows and some by blood, but they were all my brothers just the same. And my father. Well. He never thought the throne would pass to him, and yet it did. He used to say that was his punishment. I can only pray he found the peace in death that he never knew in life. The septons sing of sweet release, of laying down our burdens and voyaging to a far land where we may laugh and love and feast until the end of days but what if there is no land of light and honey? Only cold and dark and pain beyond the wall called death? The Stranger is waiting so close for me I can see the shadow beyond the door."
He is afraid, Sam realized with a jolt. He hastened to reassure the Maester, "You are not dying. You're ill, that's all. It will pass. You just need food and rest."
Aemon ignored his words, "I have thought for many years why. Why was my sight stolen as with my strength yet I was kept alive, frozen and forgotten? What use does the world have for a blind old man? Oh but I remember, Sam, I remember. Even after all this time."
"Remember what?"
The old man's fingers were gripping him so tightly it was just shy of painful. "Dragons. The grief and glory of my House, they were. Dragons."
"The last dragon died before you were born," Sam said in confusion, "How could you remember them? The skulls at King's Landing?"
"I see them in my dreams, Sam. I see a red star bleeding in the sky. I still remember red like a smear of blood across the sky. I see their shadows on the snow, hear the boom of those great leathery wings, feel their hot breath that can burn through stone and steel and bone. My brothers dreamed of dragons too and the dreams killed them too, every last one of them. Sam, we tremble on the cusp of half-remembered prophecies, of wonders and terrors that no man now living could hope to comprehend...or..."
"Or?" said Sam.
"Or perhaps not," Aemon chuckled softly, expression more of a grimace in his wrinkled face, "Or I am an old man, feverish and dying." He closed his white eyes wearily, then forced them open once again to stare at nothing. "I should not have left the Wall. Lord Snow could not have known but I should have seen it. Fire consumes but cold preserves. The Wall was what kept me standing, even after a hundred years, but it is too late to go running back to its frozen embrace. The Stranger waits outside my door and will not be denied, no matter how patient they have been for me over the decades. Steward, you have served me faithfully. Do this one last brave thing for me. My last request. Go down to the ships, Sam. Learn all you can about these dragons and bring it back to me."
"I will. If you want." Sam would not deny Aemon a final request, he could not refuse him. Even now with Aemon slipping back into a restless sleep Sam rose from the bedside. He could look for Dareon as well, his fellow Night's Watch member, along the docks and wharves of the Ragman's Harbor. Dareon had left to sing for coin and bolster the Night's Watch in the hope to grow support for the Wall and garner new recruits. Sam had to find Dareon first and then they could go to the ports together and then hopefully return with news, food, wine and wood. Start the empty hearth and have a hot meal which would do a world of good for both Aemon and Gilly.
He strapped his short sword to his belt and swept his black cloak across his shoulders while saying, "Gilly, bar the door when I am gone."
She nodded, her eyes bright with tears and Sam found himself almost rushing from the room before she began to sob. The hairs on the nape of his neck were on end as he passed through the doorway, half expecting a shade of the Stranger to be lurking across the threshold.
Sam made his way through the winding alleys, thick with cats and shadows. Braavos had an abundance of cats to the point Sam nearly tripped over the furred beasts each time he took a step. Others would just watch him from steps and rafters and walls, glowing eyes blinking slowly as he blundered past.
I need to find Dareon, he thought, tugging his belt back up his waist, He is a man of the Night's Watch, my Sworn Brother; he and I will puzzle out what to do. Maester Aemon's strength was gone, and Gilly would have been lost here even if she had not been grief-stricken, but Dareon hasn't returned for some time. He could be hurt, perhaps that is why he did not come back. He could be dead, a knife in the throat or floating in one of the canals to be nibbled upon by the fish. Dareon had a loose tongue and quick temper especially when he'd been drinking. Just because a man can sing about battles doesn't mean he's fit to fight one, as he'd been sent to the Wall through his rash actions in bedding the daughter of the lord of Goldengrove.
The best alehouses, inns, and brothels were near the Purple Harbor or the Moon Pool but Sam knew that Dareon preferred the Ragman's Harbor where the patrons were more apt to speak the Common Tongue. Sam worked his way through the inns and even asked the poleman watching over the serpent boats if they had seen a singer in black but to no avail. He even began to try the brothels but there was still no answer.
However when he was leaving the latest brothel, one called the Cattery, he got confronted by two Braavosi beneath the red lamp outside. One thing he quickly noticed was how the lords and peasants dressed in comparison to Westeros; in Kings Landing the lords and ladies wore velvets and silks in a prism of colours while the commoners were more drab and of raw wool. In Braavos it was the opposite, with the nobles wearing charcoal grey and purple, blues that were almost black and blacks as dark as a moonless night.
Sam did not understand Braavosi and begged their pardon to move pass to continue his search, only for one of the men to switch to the Common Tongue to relay his friends insults. Sam had heard worse from his father but the men were tipsy and looking for a fight. Sam had his sword but he took pains not to touch it. To do so would incite a fight which Sam didn't trust himself in.
"Oi, he's one of the Night's Watch stupid," a childish voice said and all three turned to see a scragged urchin appear, pushing a barrow full of seaweed and shells. She was a slip of a thing, narrow and almost wild with her short brown hair falling over grey eyes as she scowled at the two drunkards before focusing on Sam, "There's another singing to the Sailor's Wife down at the Happy Port. If theys ask who's the most beautiful woman in the word say Nightingale or they won't let you in. How's 'bout you, want to buy some clams?"
He was confused but welcomed the distraction, lamenting, "I have no coin."
A mocking scoff from one of the nobles, "No coin he says. Hey, be a good fat friend and give that there cloak to Terro here. He's chilly."
"Don't do as they say," the scraggy girl told Sam, "Else they be asking for your boots next and before long you'll be naked."
"Little cats who screech too loud get drowned in the canals here," scowled the other noble.
"Not if they have claws to cut your belly open." And suddenly there was the glint of a knife in the girl's left hand, a blade as skinny as she was but held easy in her fingers. The one called Terro grumbled something to his fair-haired friend and the two of them moved off, chuckling and scoffing at one another.
"Thank you," Sam told the girl when the two drunks were gone.
She tucked her knife away, "Shouldn't be wearing a sword at night, they take it as a challenge. Did you want the fight?"
His voice squeaked embarrassingly as he said, "No."
"Are you truly in the Night's Watch? I never saw a black brother like you before here in Braavos." She squinted at him with a suspicious grey gaze before she gestured at the barrow. "You can have the last clams if you want. It's dark so no one will buy them now. Are you sailing to the Wall?"
"I'm headed to Oldtown." Sam scanned the barrow before taking one of the baked clams and wolfed it down in a single bite. "We're between ships. Who are you?"
"No one." The girl stank of fish and salt water, "I used to be someone but now I'm not. You can call me Cat, if you like a name. Who might you be?"
"Samwell, of House Tarly," he told her. The name of Cat fit the girl, as she was lean and mean much like the furred felines lurking all over Braavos, "You speak the Common Tongue."
"My father was the oarmaster on Nymeria," Cat explained, voice easy and calm, "Got himself gutted for saying mother is more beautiful than the Nightingale. Not one of those camel cunts you met, what I'm meaning is a real bravo. Someday I'll slit his throat and roll out his body for the crabs. The captain said Nymeria had no need of little girls so he put me off. Brusco took me in and gave me a barrow." She looked up at him. "What ship will you be sailing on?"
"We bought passage on the Lady Ushanora."
There was that squint again, "She's gone, gone long days past. Don't you know? She left days and days ago."
Which Sam did indeed know. He and Dareon had watched the ship sail from the docks and through the Titan's legs to the sea beyond. The captain had enough waiting for Aemon to recover his strength and Sam lost all the coin used for the finest cabin aboard the ship as the captain also refused to hand it back. However that misery was his own and he had a fellow brother to find.
"You said before you saw another black cloak," Sam said to her, "Where was this?"
"At the Happy Port. He's going to wed the Sailor's Wife as men do," Cat shrugged her bony shoulders.
"Wed?"
"She only beds the ones who marry her."
"Where is this Happy Port?"
"Across from the Mummer's Ship. I can show you the way if you need."
"I know the way." Sam had seen the Mummer's Ship and knew where it was. Dareon couldn't be doing such a thing, they'd taken their vows before a heart tree when they had become ready to take the black.
But when he reached the Happy Port indeed Dareon, a sworn member of the Night's Watch, had married a whore and even had her clad in his cloak and nothing else. Despite Sam's attempts to bring him back, asking for his help in finding the stories of the dragons among the ports, Daeron refused to return and fully spurned his vows, casting off his duty to the Wall and rejecting all he knew.
So Sam punched him.
The fight was short-lived before he was thrown from the brothel but Sam had left Dareon bloodied before he slammed into the black water of the canal outside and nearly drowned. When a stranger fished him out, skin the colour of pitch and a cloak of sodden feathers cast over his shoulders, Sam was half drowned and vomiting water.
The man was tall and broad and of the Summer Isles but still amused by Sam's near drowning, saying, "Fat men should float, not flail and splash. Now you ruined Xhondo's cloak."
Sam coughed and retched, casting a glance towards the brothel he'd been thrown from but knew there was no going back for Dareon and his breaking of vows. He'd seen it before and had no use for more fighting.
Xhondo grabbed Sam and effortlessly heaved him to his feet, the Summer Islander saying cheerfully, "Xhondo mates on Cinnamon Wind, ship down to the ports. Many tongues he speaks, a little. Inside Xhondo laughs to see you punch the prancing singer. And Xhondo hears many whispers in Braavos." A broad white smile spread across his face as he leaned down into Sam's face, "Xhondo knows these dragons."
The Cinnamon Wind was a swan ship out of Tall Trees Town on the Summer Isles, with sails of cream and a lively crew. Quhuru Mo was the captain of the vessel, who spoke not a lick of the Common Tongue so Xhondo had to act as a translator for. While they bargained for accommodation Sam, Gilly and Aemon were in one of the cramped halfway houses upon the docks where the Cinnamon Wind was. Sam had had to carry Aemon there upon Xhondo's offer, the man too weak and feverish to even stir when carried. Gilly did not ask about Dareon which Sam was grateful for, as the fight the night before with someone who had been a sworn brother still stung.
Now it was the morning after, the sky clear while the air was moist and warm and dead calm, with Sam outside the small halfway cabin with Gilly keeping watch over Aemon. The old man was asleep once again and Sam worried over his waxen skin and sunken eyes. Even the rising warmth of the day did little to change the slumbering man's disposition, the cabin by the docks far warmer than their previous accommodations even if it absolutely reeked of the sea and rotting fish guts.
He had hoped the meeting with Xhondo would reinvigorate the old man; the Summer Islanders revered the elderly and the hulking stranger treated Aemon respectfully while telling him of the tales of dragons. It seemed to be now a fact, not simple rumour, that this Daenerys Targaryen possessed a dragon. That she was the mother of those creatures, reborn after near two centuries of extinction, and soon many will remember how Aegon the Conqueror came to be. That night when Xhondo left Aemon had eaten all food before him even if his words were still weak and skin parchment thin.
"We were wrong, Sam," the man had said while settling back into the blankets, veined fingers clutching at the sheets, "It was a prince that was promised they all said, not a princess. Rhaegar, oh Rhaegar...I believed that the smoke was from the fire that devoured Summerhall on the day of his birth, that the salt was from the tears shed for those who died in the blaze. He shared my belief when he was young as he told me through those letters, but later he became persuaded that it was his own son who would fulfil the prophecy, for a comet had been seen above King's Landing on the night Aegon was conceived and so Rhaegar was certain the bleeding star had to be a comet that told of the birth. What fools we were, who thought ourselves so wise and without error. We forgot the true translation of Valyrian. Dragons are neither male nor female but now one and now the other, as changeable as flame. The language misled us all for a thousand years and we were all so sure. Daenerys is the one, born amidst salt and smoke. The dragons prove it."
Just talking of her seemed to make Aemon stronger, his blind eyes bright in a way Sam hadn't seen since they left the Wall as the old man rasped, "I must go to her. I must. Would that I was even ten years younger."
When he had fallen asleep it had been deep, not troubled like his previous feverish slumbers but Sam still worried. The lament for his great grand niece was strong and Sam had to wonder if even half the tales about her were true. A woman of silver gold hair and eyes like amethysts, true Valyrian blooded with dragons with one of which had golden scales. Sam didn't believe the wild rumours of one being three headed, instead knowing the dragon queen had three of them. The biggest was probably golden. Even so after hearing the tales from Xhondo Sam still found most of the stories far-fetched. He had not seen the skulls in King's Landing, the only remains of the Targaryens bloody legacy and even held the bones of Balerion the Black Dread, Aegon's own monstrous steed. He had to wonder if this Daenerys would come for Westeros as her ancestor had done centuries ago, with a creature like Balerion.
The widow of a Dothraki khal, who lost a brother and a son to become a mother of dragons and then turned into a sacker of cities who slaughtered the slavers of Old Ghis as easily as one would crush ants. Aegon the Conqueror with teats, they called her.
Perhaps it would be best if she stayed in Meereen. Monsters of fire or monsters of ice, Sam had to think upon which would be worse and even then he was left unsure.
A Targaryen alone in the world is a terrible thing.
Sam remembered Aemon's words, which seemed like a lifetime ago at the Wall. When they first heard of Daenerys Stormborn, after years of most thinking the last Targaryens had died in Essos or been lost. But instead she returned with dragons, with an army, and began to tear asunder the slave masters. Even now in Braavos, Meereen was beyond their reach, was beyond Aemon. Essos was a massive slab of land, making Westeros seem middling in comparison. Meereen might as well be an entire world away.
Even then back at Castle Black Aemon had lamented after Sam had read the deeds to him, at how far away he was from her. Dying at the edge of the world while Daenerys was surrounded by enemies and without family to guide her. And now he was truly dying in a port despite all attempts to nurse him back to health. Sam just had to hope the man could stay until they reached Oldtown. The healers of the Citadel were the best in the world, they could help the ailing man when no one else could.
As the sun rose Sam found himself talking to Quhuru Mo at the docks some more before reluctantly drawing back to the halfway house. He could easily see the Cinnamon Wind even as he sat down upon some crates as the port bustled with activity. There was also Kojja Mo standing on deck of the swan ship who was the captain's daughter, a woman as fierce as Val and taller than Sam. She was in command of the red archer's upon the ship, as it was explained pirates were still a fairly persistent bunch and walked with one of the great longbows strapped to her back. Once the captain had asked for Aemon's maester chains, made of Valyrian steel which would cover the full cost and more, but Sam refused. Even if Aemon perished Sam would not sell the chain links. His sword and scabbard Sam had already given to Xhondo, as repayment for fishing him from the canal and the ruined cloak. One more day, he was told, before the ship would sail after restocking its hold.
All he had left was the clothes upon his back and the valuable books taken from Castle Black. Sam did not like the idea but it was all he could think to barter passage as the deadline drew near. They were bound for the Citadel but unless Sam could leave Braavos then all he, Aemon and Gilly could do was rot like the fish.
Sam sighed, the air around him warm and making him sweat in his blacks. The port was thick with activity and he spent some time simply watching the workers bustle back and forth; some ships were gigantic, almost like sea bound villages with how many crew they supported while others were nimble and fast with only a handful of sailors. Some carried goods such as great beams of wood and steel for construction, others with a plethora of exotic silks and fabrics, others carried gold and jewels and half forgotten relics, others had strange animals such as black striped horses or dog sized lizards. The people were also of a great variety in size shape and colour, more than Sam had ever seen in Westeros. It was as if Braavos was a stop for the world to come and bargain their goods.
He was chewing away on a tasteless piece of jerky as he watched a fishing vessel head in towards the docks, sails flaccid and oars flailing. A great flock of seagulls followed close behind, waiting for the ship to stop so they could snap and scream over the discarded fish guts when the crew would clean their haul. However even as Sam watched the flock of gulls abruptly flared and wheeled away from the docks, heading back out towards the sea as fast as their wings could carry them. He frowned, swallowing down the last strip of meat even as he noticed the other sea birds, which had been either circling the ships or screeching along the docks and vessels, take off and head out towards the distant Titan and away from Braavos. More and more flew past overhead, all heading away from the city.
Sam wasn't the only one to notice how the birds suddenly seemed to flee, a weird prickle running up his spine. The cats scattered about also began to move, backs arched into bristles before they sped away to the shadows. The abrupt lack of animals on the docks was strange and Sam noticed how several sailors were pointing southward, over the tops of the lumpy city of Braavos before many began to call out to one another while crawling over the ships.
It was only when one of the closer vessels shouted in the Common Tongue, "Storm! Storm incoming!" did he realize what they were preparing for.
In quick succession many of the docked vessels had their sails rolled up and secured even as Sam saw flags snap sharply as a strong wind suddenly billowed up. He grunted, swaying slightly on the crates at the abrupt southbound wind that began to tug at his cloak. Standing up, Sam craned his neck around, stepping further out towards the docks until he was several feet from the sea. Now he could see over the sprawling houses and buildings littering the great isle and the blacked clouds rapidly heading towards them. Flashes of gold occasionally lit up the swelling stormfront and he heard the distant rumble of thunder closing in on them.
If there was one thing he was sick of, it was the ocean storms. At the Wall it was so high that top the storms couldn't even pass over. Instead they could simply look over the Wall and see all the clouds below. Frozen but untouched by the wild winds and rain.
Though, oddly enough, even when the storm came closer there wasn't any rain. Just the whistle of the wind and the increasing roar of thunder while the surrounding sea began to churn. The clouds stretched out overhead, coiling and pulsating until they reached even the great Titan of Braavos in the distance, swallowing its raised arm in the blackened clouds.
Many of the sailors were running back and forth and Sam got violently shoved and knocked around when he didn't move out of the way quickly enough. Many were rushing with their wares, wanting to get them to warehouses or stores before the rain came for them. Most of the yelling began to grow distant and Sam could even see the crew of the Cinnamon Wind finishing tying down the sails and checking the heavy dock lines securing the vessel to port.
He was about to go back to the little halfway house when more thunder sounded. But this time there was something...off.
It took him several moments to realize the dull boom was too rhythmic and didn't seem to coincide with the flashes of golden lightning which was getting closer and closer, even he could even see forks of it striking out in the bay. The brilliant flashes made him flinch, raising a hand to shield his eyes even as the odd steady thuds were growing closer and closer. The wind grew more fierce, whipping at his cloak and tearing at the sails while making people stumble as they hurried too and fro. Several jagged lightning rods along the docks lit up as the forks of the brilliant light lanced down to meet them with sharp chimes and sparks.
He made it several steps towards the cabin when he heard a weird warbling noise, something that made all the hairs on his nape stand on end while freezing him in place as it reverberated through the air around him. Numerous others also stopped, almost in unison looking skyward where the strange call was heard.
Silence swept over the dock, the only noise being the swell of the ocean and the rumbling thunder as the storm fully closed around Braavos, as if everyone was frozen from the eerie noise.
Then someone screamed.
Sam's head snapped around towards the noise, seeing a sailor in a crows nest in one of the moored ships. They were pointing up towards the billowing clouds, screaming something in a language Sam didn't understand. He followed the direction they were pointing,as did nearly everyone else on the docks, up and up and up towards the roiling storm swallowing them and then-
A flash of golden lightning lit up the clouds and illuminated a great silhouette within the storm, something with great spiked wings flared out wide in mid-flight and three immense necks like a mythical serpent of the deep. The jagged shapes of horns, shadowy spines flaring up from its back with more littering the clubbed tips of its twin tails.
Around him more screams erupted as the paralysis wore off and instead animalistic panic engulfed the docks as people moved, sprinting for the shelter of the city or running for their ships even as the creature's jagged shadow folded its wings and shot down with the speed of a diving falcon, bursting out of the underside of the clouds to reveal shimmering golden scales of a great beast that was the same size of a ship with huge bat-like wings. To reveal a monster thought to be centuries dead but was now plummeting through the air towards him with frightening haste.
Lightning from the storm struck the creature mid-flight but it seemed to lance through its body as if it were part of the storm swallowing Braavos, scales shimmering like molten gold before the lightning lanced out of the tip of its great wings.
Another screeching warble, a noise that made Sam stumble and fall down heavily onto his side as others panicked around him. The great creature continued its downward flight, the sweep of its massive wings reverberating through the air like thunder. Even with it still high above the city Sam could see its numerous eyes glowing a brilliant crimson like distant stars as it rapidly closed the distance with each beat of its wings.
It was a creature Sam had never seen in the flesh before but had seen portraits of, read books about, had heard tales about. A beast thought extinct with naught left but bones abandoned to crypts but now was plummeting through the air towards him even as its chilling screams shook Sam to the bone and kept him pinned like a mouse before a snake.
Dragon.
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otwarchive v1.2.0.0
Known Issues
GPL-2.0-or-later by the OTW