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Published:2020-04-25Updated:2026-04-06Words:409,591Chapters:71/?Comments:5,537Kudos:6,020Bookmarks:1,659Hits:467,009
The Stormborn and the Stormbringer
SkilledWarriorKiwi
Chapter 21: A LADY'S FAVOUR
Chapter Text
Lady Daenerys was as the tales said.
Her hair was a tangled mess of silver and gold tresses and her face was red from windburn but nonetheless she was the fairest woman Sam had ever see. She was clad in black and crimson, silver and gold chains upon her shoulders and the Targaryen sigil etched in crimson thread upon her breast. A clasp in the shape of three dragon heads clamped onto a crimson cloak that fell down her back and just below her hips. Numerous bells were woven into her hair which sang softly with each step she took. And lurking behind her was the dragon, three headed just as the stories told and with glittering gold scales, great spikes running down its necks and back with teeth the same length as his fingers. Huge and scaled and snorting great huffs of breath as sharp claws scraped the stones.
The long lost Targaryen queen, the dragon mother and her monstrous child.
Sam expected her to kill him.
Instead she demanded to see Aemon, even if Sam was too terrified of her and her dragon to respond at first. The snarl the dragon let out from all thee heads when Sam failed to answer made him scream, the noise vicious and biting. The queen simply put a petite hand upon the dragon's scales and the thing stopped with the horrible noise at that single gesture from the Targaryen.
Despite her being half their size she had the same commanding air to her as Stannis Baratheon or Jeor Mormont and Sam had to obey her demands.
She wanted Aemon just as he had wanted her. Sam didn't know how the dragon queen heard of Aemon but she would not be denied and Sam certainly wasn't going to stop her. Especially not after hearing of Aemon's strong lament for his great grand niece and now she was suddenly, abruptly, in Braavos searching for him with a three headed dragon and heralded by a storm front.
The dragon queen did not spare him a second glance when he confirmed Aemon's presence, barely acknowledging the Braavosi envoy and guards before she swept away towards the building with her dragon close behind. Sam's legs were shaking like a new born foal, and it was a wonder he didn't faint away.
The envoy suddenly confronting him didn't help either and Sam managed to stammer out several answers to the man as he piled Sam with question after question as to his intention in Braavos and connection with the dragon queen. Because no, Sam had no idea she would arrive with a three headed dragon. No, he didn't know how she found out about Aemon. Yes, he was a member of the Night's Watch and was heading towards Oldtown. No, he had no idea who the Sealord was and wasn't sent by the crown and Sam just felt so overwhelmed a part of him just wanted to curl up on the ground again.
When the envoy finally left Sam alone- and his considering stare stopped trying to flay the skin off Sam's face before the Braavosi turned away in a swirl of expensive fabric -Sam found himself accosted by Xhondo. The Summer Islander had a broad grin on his face as he dragged Sam over to the Cinnamon Wind where the rest of the crew were babbling to each other excitedly with a lot of gestures towards the great golden dragon which had crawled along the stones next to the Targaryen queen before she vanished into the salt washed halfway house. The crew were still armed, but after it became obvious the dragon queen had no come to Braavos to lay ruin to the city the swords had been sheathed and bows slung over backs.
"A dragon, fat man! Look at that beast! Scales just like gold, a symbol of good fortune! And those three heads, dragon must be very fond of dragon mother. Targaryens have those three headed sigil, yes?"
"Beautiful," Kojja agreed from the across the deck. The woman's gaze was affixed to the dragon at the dock, where it was curled up like a gargantuan cat outside the housing. Sam would have feared for Gilly, but a part of him knew that somehow the dragon queen would be true to her word- that she was here for Aemon and that was all.
"Dragons aren't supposed to have three heads," Sam said, distracted. "I don't know why this one does. And that storm, how did it happen? It's nearly gone already. It's unnatural, it was like...like how one appeared at the Fist-"
"Eh? Don't you Westerosi yelp of the Seven and signs?" Xhondo huffed. "The dragonriders have three headed dragons before. And silver lady is Stormborn, isn't she? So storms love her and now she has her three headed gold dragon."
"No they didn't have three heads, Aegon and his sister had three dragons. That's why their sigil is like that, it's to represent the three dragons and the three Targaryens-"
Sam ended up getting in a fairly heated argument with Xhondo until Sam realized the man was just pulling japes at him, obviously amused by his reaction. Flustered, Sam retreated as Xhondo started to converse with the captain. Kojja Mo had eyes only for the dragon which was also near all of the people within the Purple Harbour.
The dragon was immense, even settled down on its belly with its tails and necks curled around it. Sam would wager the creature was near the same length was many of the ships moored to the wharf, even if it seemed not as vast as it had been airborne.
Sam had never seen the dragon skulls in King's Landing so he couldn't compare its size with that of the Targaryen dragons of yore but it was far, far larger than the Last Dragon had ever been. Even from a safe distance at the Cinnamon Wind Sam could tell its clubbed tails were larger than the morning stars at Castle Black and its wings were broader than many ship sails.
He finally left the ship and crept near the halfway house the dragon was coiled up outside. The Braavosi guard were keeping back any one too curious but Sam could see more and more people spilling out from the buildings and canals, drawn by the dragon and wanting to see a living one. Though the elation was heavily mixed with fear and caution, and Sam could see several of the people who'd leapt over the wharf edge when the dragon appeared being fished out by sailors. Sam could understand.
The Others, the wights- terrifying but the dragon was just so immense that Sam felt the same level of fear simply from appearance alone. Even the mammoths of the wildlings couldn't compare with that scaled beast in overall size and it made Sam shudder at how massive Balerion the Black Dread must have been. This dragon was only a year old, while Balerion had been near a century when he and Aegon descended upon Westeros.
How could any gather the courage to confront such a thing?
Sam got torn from his brooding when he spotted the door to the halfway house opening, the dragon also moving and making the watching crowd scatter like roaches before torchlight. He skittered around the numerous people darting too and fro, as a low hum of panic began to spread with the dragon's movement but then Sam saw Aemon emerge from the doorway with the Targaryen queen supporting his weight and he stumbled to a stop several feet from the Braavosi guard who were hasten to calm down any potential hysteria.
He craned his head to the side, trying to avoid being knocked over by the crowd of people as the dragon moved up onto all fours. Its long tails swept up a small cloud of dust from the stones as it shifted.
Would Stannis Baratheon ever carry one of his soldiers like that? Sam thought. He had never met Queen Cersei but from what Jon and the rare other Brothers who'd seen her described the woman had been beautiful but vile in personality. This dragon queen, a sacker of cities and slayer of Masters, was supporting Aemon's body against her own slight frame as she gently ushered the elderly man towards the dragon. There seemed to be no hesitation with the Targaryen exile helping Aemon, letting him lean on her as she led him to the dragon.
For a moment Sam greatly feared for Aemon as the dragon's serpentine necks stretched forth to regard the maester closely, a part of him wanting to shove his way past the Braavosi guard. He knew from the Dance that dragons had no hesitation in devouring Targaryens, loyal only to their riders, but his fears were unfounded as he watched the silver queen take Aemon's hand and guide it up to the dragon's nearest snout.
Sam had to look away from the naked wonder and elation on Aemon's face as he touched the dragon; it felt to Sam that he was intruding on something intensely private and personal. Something he wasn't supposed to witness.
Instead he settled down near the mooring ropes of the Cinnamon Wind, where the crew were still excitedly discussing the dragon. The Summer Islanders seemed to think it was a sign for good luck and fortune, to see a dragon after centuries of extinction. Especially one that didn't seem about to burn their ship and city to cinders.
"Dragon lady wears red and black, good colours," Xhondo said at one point, running a hand down his feathered cloak which was dyed in the same hues.
Sam just endured it, keeping his own cloak wrapped firmly around him as he watched Aemon from afar. He could still easily recall Aemon's yearning for Daenerys, not just in Braavos but at the Wall when they first heard whispers of a silver haired dragon queen in Essos. Rumours, myths perhaps Sam had thought at the time. But now Aemon was pressed against his great grand niece's side and stroking the snout of a three headed dragon.
He didn't know what to think beyond the fact his brothers at the Wall wouldn't believe him when he told them about it. That icy tundra seemed a world away, sitting on a ship docked in the muggy heat of Braavos, watching the three dragons together.
Then some watcher started yelling which set off the Braavosi guard and Sam could only watch as the dragon queen hurriedly gathered up Aemon and half lead half dragged the man away to the lavish envoy lodgings she'd been granted. The dragon followed, hissing at anyone who was too close and took up guard outside the door. Sam wasted no time in hurrying over to their lodgings to check on Gilly.
The wildling girl was safe, as was the baby. It seemed the appearance of the dragon and the queen had shocked her from her sobbing, to which he was thankful. Instead she was peering through the slats, trying to keep a look upon the golden three headed dragon. Sam could understand. Gilly had only known Craster's keep and now she'd been flung from the isolated snow to the sea and the swarms of people and now dragons.
"It's so big," Gilly whispered, her face pale and eyes huge as she stared at the dragon. "But did you see how it let Maester Aemon pet it?"
"The blood of dragons," Sam agreed.
He didn't really know what else to do after that. The silver queen had sequestered Aemon away and Sam found himself lingering awkwardly around the dock as he struggled to figure out what to do. A part of him felt he should be there, as Aemon's steward, but at the same time knowing the dragon queen had more right as his last family member.
At least the arrival meant his voyage upon the Cinnamon Wind was now a certainty; he had spoken again to Xhondo about trying to buy passage only to be told by the captain- who his daughter translated for -that the dragon was price enough and they would take Gilly, the babe and he to Oldtown without further pay beyond the dusty books.
It went without saying Aemon would not come. Sam had seen Aemon dying, seen him deteriorating as soon as they began their sea journey from the Wall and knew deep down the dragon queen was here for his deathbed vigil.
The Summer Islanders didn't protest, understanding his reasoning and they didn't seem to mind staying in Braavos longer as it gave them more opportunity to stare at the dragon. Sam was quite certain that last half was the most compelling reason but he wasn't about to push it. As it was he was grateful for their accommodating attitudes, especially since he couldn't keep apace with Aemon's health.
The following day the dragon was still there and the wharf was fit to burst with the amount of people conveniently needing to use the current harbour among the bustle of merchandise and stock. Sam was also quite surprised at how many sculptures and painters had already managed to create accurate artistry of the three headed creature and he had to wonder if any of them had even slept through the night.
It was barely daybreak but Sam used their meager silver to buy salted fish. A terrible meal but certainly enough to survive on and Gilly always ate her food without complaint. She hadn't dissolved into sobs since the dragon arrived, seemingly fixating on it as a distraction which left Sam glad. He never knew how to approach her tears of a mother's grief.
When Lady Daenerys did appear from her lodgings it was to meet the Sealord. Sam was quite sure it was the Sealord just due to how lavish the barge was and how the amount of guards had thickened substantially. The dragon moving also stirred up some shrieks, like an audience at a tourney, even if all it did was closely follow the slight form of the queen as she walked across the wharf to meet with the Sealord.
Sam was too far away to hear anything and the most of her he could see was her pale hair and dark clothing. The dragon was even longer than the barge, one great horned head resting on the deck like some golden gate guard. The Sealord didn't seem overly worried by it.
He thought of going to see Aemon while the Targaryen queen was occupied but he spent too long debating on whether or not to do it and by the time he made up his mind she'd left the Sealord and retreated back into the lodgings, the dragon once again guarding.
Sam also thought of sending a message to Jon somehow. Surely his friend would know what to do? But then, thinking of how he'd deliberately sent Gilly away without her son made Sam pause. He didn't quite know what to think of Jon, knowing he could do such a thing. Could sacrifice Gilly's child to the red witch if it meant she didn't kill a babe of king's blood. But Jon also needed to know, had to know about the dragon queen. The Night's Watch knew what was beyond the Wall and should Sam speak to her about the Others? Would she believe him? Would she execute him for lying to her? For making up wild stories, as she would see it? Even among the Watch there was skepticism, even after seeing what they saw.
But she had a dragon...wights were killed by fire, the Others avoided it. Could she help? Would she?
Sam wasted another day on his insecurities, not knowing how to approach the queen. He had to, though. He knew it and even Gilly said. Gilly said the dragons could fight, even over the Wall they'd heard of them. They could help so Sam had to. This would be his first test away from the Wall- not convincing the maesters at the Citadel but rather the dragon queen a world away.
Should he try and knock on the door? He would have to come close around the curve of the buildings, to not disturb the dragon. He thought maybe it was like Ghost. Scary but actually quite nice if it was fed and treated well.
When he finally gathered up the courage to attempted to approach the quarters the dragon had whipped its right most head around and glared at him and Sam had all but run back to Gilly.
The malicious manner the dragon had regarded him reminded Sam horribly, vividly, of the Other. Just that look of utter dismissal, the way someone would regard an ant. An absolute belief that Samwell was completely below its acknowledgement. Gilly did not seem to understand his description or fear of the creature but Sam knew. He finally understood why the Targaryens had been so feared, why it took a catastrophic civil war to weaken them and why every rebellion against them before hand had ended in utter failure. In part to the Targaryens themselves but their dragons. For their dragons were not simple pets, they were not horses or wolves or ravens. He knew it wasn't just some beast or exotic mount. It wasn't like Ghost at all.
It was all Sam could brood over when he cringed in the room, Gilly giving up with her questioning instead to peek out the window to where the dragon was guarding its rider as she clutched at the baby. The dragon was not even comparable to Ghost, a direwolf. The malice it emanated towards him just kept reminding him over and over of the being of ice which chased him, Small Paul and Grenn after the massacre at the Fist. Which mocked them in a voice of cracking glass and poisonous blue eyes as it taunted them. Something primordial and frightening and Sam had to wonder just what terrifying new age the world was turning to and how he was helpless against it.
Aemon had died.
Sam hadn't been there with him.
"She would have been kind," Gilly had decided when they discovered it.
The dragon queen had made a pyre for Aemon at the far edge of the wharf, away from the moorings and towards the tone towers. Sam didn't even want to know the price of the wood but she didn't seem to care. She had come to his lodgings, not even bothering to knock and bluntly informing him and Gilly of Aemon's passing and she was to give his body to the flames, as all Targaryens were.
And that was how Gilly, the babe and Sam found themselves outside and watching the queen. The Braavosi guards were still there along with the envoy but once the pyre had been completely and Aemon's body laid down they had retreated at a respectful distance. Sam thought it was mainly due to the dragon's horrifying snarling that made Sam want to run away and hide. Even then Sam and Gilly were far away enough they were out of range of the dragon but Sam didn't miss the way it always kept one head fixated on them, as if thinking they might try and hurt the queen.
All he could think of was the Other, under the creature's glaring red stare. Just that same level of contempt.
"Do you have any words to say."
Gilly had to nudge him before he realized the queen was speaking to him. She was standing far away enough her words were being caught by the wind with the dragon hunkered over her and Sam hesitated before forcing himself forward. Gilly stayed where she was and Sam stopped before he got within range of the dragon's necks. This close he could see Aemon upon the pyre, his wrinkled hands clasped and coins over his eyes. Something was off, however, and it was only when the queen turned to face him did Sam realize she had Aemon's maester chains slung around her hips like a belt.
He bit back his knee-jerk protests. It was Aemon's and if he chose to gift it to his great grand niece than it was his choice.
"You knew him as a member of the Night's Watch," the dragon queen said to him, ignoring the way tears were sliding down her face and leaving glistening trails upon her cheeks. "I am...unfamiliar with the habits of your group. Do you have certain pyre rites to say?"
"I...I'm not a good speaker, Your Grace," Sam hurried apologized. "But I'll do my best. Aemon was good, he deserves this."
Even so it took several moments for Sam to think up something appropriate. He tried to ignore the crowds behind them, kept back enough they couldn't hear but they could see. The dragon grumbled, low in its chest like an earthquake and Sam hurriedly began.
"He was a good man," Sam began. "No. He was a great man. A maester of the Citadel, chained and sworn, and Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch, ever faithful. When he was born they named him for a hero, the dragonknight, who had died too young, but though he lived a long long time, his own life was no less heroic. No man was wiser, or gentler, or kinder. At the Wall, a dozen lords commander came and went during his years of service, but he was always there to counsel them. He counseled kings as well. He could have been a king himself, but when they offered him the crown he told them they should give it to his younger brother. Chose the Wall to stop a civil war over it, to protect the realm from bloodshed. How many men would do that? He was the blood of the dragon, but now his fire has gone out. He was Aemon Targaryen. And now his watch is ended."
The queen stepped forward, the bells in her hair chiming as she bent to press a gentle kiss to Aemon's wrinkled brow. She said, "Do not fear for whatever may lie ahead, beloved uncle. The fire is yours. You are Aemon Targaryen, blood of dragons and given to the flames. I will keep my oath to you and I will love you always, even if our meeting was so brief. Fire and blood."
She raised the torch in her hand, fumbling with a shard of flint. She didn't seem to realize she needed to have two hands free to spark it, too distracted by her grief, and Sam felt himself shift uncomfortably. Should he offer aid?
Then the dragon twisted down one long neck and making Sam flinch away. It opened its fanged maw, sparks fluttering around its fangs like fireflies before it spat on the torch and with a soft whump the oiled head lit up in golden flames.
Sam watched as she thrust the torch among the soaked wood and it quickly licked up the pyre. Soon it was ablaze, the smoke mingling thickly with the scent of salt. The dragon queen didn't step back even as the flames began to consume Aemon as quickly as the kindling, even when Sam stumbled away from the intensity of the heat. Instead she remained staring at Aemon's body as it burned, the tear tracks on her face shining and damp eyes sparkling like freshly polished amethysts as her thick hair gleamed gold in the light and Sam felt a lurch in his belly as he truly realized how beautiful she was.
Then he made the mistake of glancing up and making eye contact with the dragon, which curled a great lip to bare fangs as it gave him a hateful look. Sam hurriedly turned away, the swell of heat giving way to barely restrained terror. His hands were twisting at each other nervously, blaming the stinging of his eyes on the smoke of the pyre. Sam had seen them at the Wall but the one which consumed Aemon was so fast, so greedy that in barely any time it was nearing cinders and burned away bones.
Sam was quite certain if it wasn't for the slight woman standing before him the dragon would've eaten him alive already.
"My mother died giving me birth, and my father and my brother Rhaegar even before that. Viserys was murdered by my husband who in turned was killed by the same maegi who murdered my son within me. Then I heard of Aemon. He was the only one left. The only one. He was all I have for such a short time and now I am alone again."
Sam said nothing, keeping his gaze affixed to his boots. He didn't want to look up, either to acknowledge the queen's lament or be caught in the dragon's volatile stare. Then he heard the jangle of chains and bells as the queen stepped forward, her cloak swaying in the wind of the harbour.
"Aemon claimed you killed one of the Others," the queen said.
"T'was the dragonglass dagger, Your Grace." Sam confessed, hesitantly raising his gaze.
Her violet eyes flashed as she glared at him, "Your ill-timed modesty is unhelpful in this situation. Unless the dagger grew legs like some maegi spell, then your hand must have thrust the dagger into the Other's throat. Did you, or did you not do so?"
Sam flinched, cringing away from her anger. Her disapproval was just as heavy as his lord father's had been, vicious and without compromise.
"Tell me of the Other. Where did you fight it? What did it look like? How did you slay it?" the queen's tone brooked not argument and Sam hastened to obey.
"Commander Mormont arranged a ranging expedition, north of the Wall. To learn more about the wildlings, about why they were fleeing their homes. But we...we found something more terrible at the Fist. We thought we were going to defend against wildlings. But it wasn't them, it was wights. They're the dead men, the ones the Others make. But not just men, animals too. We couldn't defend it, they don't feel pain and fear so we had to flee. Small Paul and Grenn were with me, to release the ravens after the fight, to warn everyone. We were separated from the rest of our brothers but we thought maybe we could reach the Shadow Tower. But we were being followed. Hunted."
"An Other."
Sam nodded, still remember that time with vividness. The thick snow, the struggle to move, the breath burning in his lungs. Remembering the hoards of undead crashing upon them from all sides but then realizing there was something even worse chasing them.
Gathering his courage Sam continued, "It was on a horse, a dead one. It was a corpse of a horse but it ran just like one alive. Its flesh was falling, bones showing. Its eyes were blue though, such a bright blue. And there was an Other mounted on it and it had been chasing us. Grenn and Small Paul attacked it but it broke Grenn's sword as if it was made from glass. It killed Small Paul and he was the largest man on the Wall, Your Grace, he was like the Mountain. But the Other, it killed him so easily. And it was mocking us even if I couldn't understand it. But when Small Paul died he fell onto it and it dropped its weapon and I stabbed it with the dragonglass dagger. I didn't know it would work, I just had to fight because it was going to kill us just like it killed Small Paul."
The dragon queen was watching him closely, "And the dragonglass slew it?"
"It was like it melted. The dagger went in its throat which was unarmoured and it screamed and died."
The queen looked troubled, mulling over his words for a long moment before saying, "And what else?"
"Small Paul followed us."
"The one slain?"
"The very one. But he was a wight then, he wanted Gilly's baby. I don't know why but he went for the baby. He had those eyes and I tried to reason with him but Small Paul was gone, his soul to the veil and only his rotted body left. I stabbed it with the dagger but it did nothing." Sam shivered. He still remembered the lurching way Small Paul had come for them, his eyes wide open and staring at nothing but lit with a bright vibrant blue.
The queen made a considering noise, "So dragonglass has no effect upon wights, even if it harms their masters?"
"I don't know why. But I stabbed the wight and it just kept moving. When I used fire, it lit up like dry kindling and died a true death soon after. They aren't like the Others, the wights. They're...simple minded. The Others are smart. They're the ones controlling them, I think."
"What did it look like? The Other."
Sam answered truthfully, "Beautiful."
At the dragon queen's silent look Sam elaborated hesitatingly, "It...I know it sounds foolish, Your Grace. The Other was terrifying and horrible but it was beautiful, with blue skin and eyes like burning ice. Even when it attacked us it was elegant and graceful like a court dancer. And its sword was made of ice, just like its armour. They both shined like glass, like a frozen lake on a clear day."
"It is not an corpse then...it is its own creature? Like a Child of the Forest?" the queen seemed intrigued and Sam felt such a sense of relief at speaking to someone of such a terrifying experience and have them take his word at face value. Even with the Watch many scoffed at his account, even those who fought the wights. Now this queen on the other side of the world was accepting his words without scorn. It seemed that was, somehow, the reason she had come for Aemon. In part for their shared blood but also that she knew about the Others. How, Sam did not know, but he was relieved all the same.
Sam thought over her comparison before nodding hesitantly, "That's what it was. Not man but something else like a Child. It wasn't human but it wasn't the dead either. When it spoke it sounded like breaking glass. They can think and they want to kill us."
"So that is the true purpose of the Wall. The Long Night truly did occur and all the monsters which came with it."
He almost wanted her to ask for her aid before realizing how stupid it sounded. The Lannisters would never accept a Targaryen queen, if Lady Daenerys ever did return to Westeros she'd need the Iron Throne first or head directly to the Wall. Then, considering her dragon, she most likely would face hardly any opposition. Sam certainly did not like the beast.
However before he could ask she turned away without a word and went to the burnt out pyre, kneeling among the ash and still smoldering embers as she pulled a small jar from her pack. Carefully she put some of the remains within the jar before storing it away safely. Once done, the dragon used its long tails to sweep the rest of the ash off the wharf, to be swallowed in the sea. The ash clung to her boots as she stepped away, looking troubled and unsure.
Sam understood. He had felt uncertain and afraid ever seen he witnessed the wights, the Others, even if they seemed a problem a world away in Braavos. He couldn't forget them, sometimes they were the only dreams he had.
"But regardless, Samwell Tarly, I must return to Meereen where my people need me. For now." At her words the dragon slid down onto its belly in a rattle of scales, no doubt in preparation for her to mount it.
"I'm going to Oldtown to learn how to be a maester but once I have my chains I will return to Castle Black," Sam said hurriedly. "If you send a message to our Lord Commander, he can tell you more. Jon is a learned sort."
"Yes. Aemon did state the previous Lord Commander Jeor...Mormont perished in a mutiny."
He was about to say more when he noticed someone arguing with the guards a dozen feet away, someone clad in light armour that gleamed gold and a small falcon perched upon a shoulder. The man noticed them look over- Gilly still far back by the towers -and quickly called out to the Targaryen queen. Lady Daenerys stepped away, making a gesture at her dragon which grumbled but obediently stayed where it was as she approached the guards. Sam hovered off to the side, unsure and wanting to push more for the queen to reach out to Jon but unable to think how.
To him, Jon was just Jon. But to Lady Daenerys he was the bastard son of the man who helped murder and overthrow her family. Should he just make no utterance of it? Did she even know of Eddard Stark's bastard child?
He was pulled from his thoughts as the guard let the man through after taking his short sword and when he got through he gave the dragon queen a courteously bow, the falcon on his shoulder flapping its wings.
"Forgive me for intruding, Your Grace," the man said in a thick accent. "Yet I have come bearing an urgent message for you."
"From who?"
The man glanced over to Sam but the dragon queen waved him off, "Do not heed the black brother. Tell me your news."
"An invite, Your Grace."
She accepted the scroll of parchment offered by the man and Sam finally realized he was one of the Golden Company. Just as the Night's Watch had a black chargeless shield, the Golden Company had one in solid gold. He also knew they had a battle standard that carried the gold-dipped skulls of their past captain-generals. Barbarians, his lord father had called them once.
The only time the Golden Company would go to Westeros was for war, for the Blackfyres and their many rebellions. And now they were reaching out to the Targaryen queen. Sam didn't think it was simply for a gentle chat over tea and sweetmeats. No, rather it would most likely be for fire and blood.
Then he remembered he was one of the Night's Watch. He belonged to the Wall and if the dragon queen chose to slaughter King's Landing was he even supposed to do anything? Sam didn't think so, their duty to the Wall was all they had he knew.
Sam wished the Cinnamon Wind had left that morning and he was away from Braavos and the silver queen and her golden dragon.
Lady Daenerys read the scroll before giving the man a brisk nod, saying something to him in a language Sam didn't recognize. The man bowed again, the falcon chirping with the movement, before quickly withdrawing back beyond the guards.
She didn't move, staring at the parchment in her hands intently. There were faint creases in the skin between her eyes as she frowned and Sam could feel nervousness dancing along his limbs.
"I've read a little bit about them," Sam said, finding himself babbling. "The Golden Company. With the Blackfyre rebellions, that's the only time they've been in Westeros."
"Yes, they are Essosi based," the queen said, her voice distant. "I have encountered them once before, as a child."
"Oh. I um. Hope you weren't harmed," Sam offered lamely.
There was that calculating stare again, the queen's amethyst coloured eyes studying Sam intently. For what he was unsure, but he only hoped she didn't find him wanting.
"I um. I think they're honourable. For sellswords. It's what they're famous for. Not breaking contracts."
"...Indeed. They have words, much like a House," she squinted at the piece of parchment before reading aloud, "Our word is good as gold'."
"That's their words," Sam said, trying to remember his childhood lessons with his House's maester and numerous books and dusty scrolls. "I think they have them twice over, another being a war cry? That one is 'Beneath the gold, the bitter steel'. Since they were made by a Blackfyre. House Tarly and the Reach fought against them in that last one, the War of the Ninepenny Kings."
The queen didn't respond. Instead it was as if her entire body had frozen up, hands suddenly clenching tight upon the parchment so tightly she was near to tearing it.
Sam felt himself also tense, especially as the dragon perked up behind her with a hiss, one of its tails whistling through the air.
"I must go," Lady Daenerys abruptly said in such a tone Sam took a step backwards. "I have tarried here enough. Aemon has told me much and what awaits. But for now I must return to my people."
"But...the Others..." Sam said weakly. What was he supposed to do? Invite her to the Wall? Shouldn't he ask Jon first? Sam had no idea and he could only watch helpless as she spoke the envoy just beyond the guards, informing him of her departure and to offer her gratitude once again to the Sealord. Sam felt useless standing there, since while she believed him, what did it mean? Would she come? Or stay in Essos? Sam didn't know if the Others could swim so maybe she would? He wished Jon was here, he would know what to do.
Then the dragon queen turned back to Sam and pulled a necklace from underneath her collar. She carefully tugged it over her head, the bells woven within her braid chiming softly with her movements. After a long moment the dragon queen turned to Sam, stretching out her hand and for a moment he just stared dumbly at her until he realized she wanted him to take it.
"Your Grace..."
"You are heading to Oldtown to the Citadel, are you not?" Lady Daenerys said, watching him closely. "To learn the arts of a maester before you return to the Wall to take Aemon's place."
With a shaking hand he took the necklace, realizing it was a dragon tooth. It was only around the length of his pinky finger, the colour of ivory and was still warm from where it had been resting against the queen's skin. Sam felt almost sacrilege holding it.
"When you return to Wall you can inform the Lord Commander of the Watch I will join the fight for the living when the time comes," she told him bluntly. "I will not cower from these white shadows, from those slavers to the west. I will keep my promise to Aemon. I will fight for the new dawn when another Long Night descends upon us. Farewell, Samwell Tarly, until we meet again."
Sam was left there staring dumbly at the dragon tooth resting in the middle of his palm even as Lady Daenerys turned on her heel and walked to her dragon. Swiftly she gripped the spikes on its neck and pulled herself up onto its back and naught but a moment later the dragon flared out its great wings with a sound like ripping sails. Sam stumbled back as it swept down its wings in a massive gust of air and then it was in the sky, gaining altitude as its wings beat up and down to the shrieks of the people below.
Sam, who'd been knocked over by the air of its take off, watched the golden dragon spiral through the air before it angled its way south and was soon lost over the buildings of Braavos. He remained there even as Gilly shuffled over to his side, the babe in her arms fussing as she settled down next to him in a rustle of fabric.
"She loved Aemon so much, even if she just met him," Gilly said, still staring up into the now empty sky.
"She did. Does," Sam said, distracted. "Aemon shouldn't have left the Wall. Jon should have seen that. Aemon was a hundred and two years old, he was the oldest man alive, he should never have been sent to sea. If he had stayed at Castle Black, he might have lived another ten years."
"But he wouldn't have met the dragon queen," Gilly rocked the clothed bundle in her lap until the grumbling settled. "I think he would have been happy, to meet her even knowing he would die right after. She was crying for him. If he stayed at Castle Black that red woman would have fed him to the fire. She wanted king's blood for her fires and spells and witchery. Val knew she did. Lord Snow too. That was why they made me take Dalla's babe away and leave my own behind in his place. Made me leave him. If Maester Aemon had stayed she would have burned him."
"He burned regardless."
There was still marks upon the stone, ashes from the pyre and flames. Around them the guard had dispersed and people were creeping around the wharf, many giving curious looks to he and Gilly.
"But that was from family. She didn't want him for a spell, I'm sure. She burned him to keep him safe."
"Targaryens always burn their dead," Sam agreed. The dragon queen had even taken some of Aemon's ashes with her. Traditionally they had been buried at the Red Keep but that was beyond her.
Then he remembered the Golden Company and whatever message they had sent to her. Perhaps it would not be beyond her for long.
Sam looked down to the dragon tooth in his hand. He'd have to write a message when he got to the Citadel while keeping the dragon queen's gift close until he was ready to go back to the frosty tundra of the North. His gloved fingers curled tightly around the fang.
"We could name the little one Maester," Gilly suddenly said, looking down at the babe's face then back up at same, "When he's old enough, not now. We could. Or maybe Dragon?"
"Maester or Dragon is not a name. You could call him Aemon, though."
Gilly thought about that for a moment, chewing on her lower lip before allowing, "Dalla brought him forth during battle, as the swords sang all around her. That should be his name. Aemon Battleborn. Aemon Steelsong."
A name even my lord father might like. A warrior's name. The small boy was Mance Rayder's son and Craster's grandson, after all. He had none of Sam's craven blood even if that was their plan to spread when they reached Oldtown. "Yes. Call him that. It's a good name."
"When he is two," she promised to him, "Not before."
"And now we have to move on, back to the Cinnamon Wind. Oldtown awaits us and Quhuru Mo and his crew have been patient enough."
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