Fire And Blood

Dagger Lake

Daenerys XII

Around a fortnight must have passed on their journey down the Qhoyne and their ships continued to drift past a few more of the destroyed Rhoynish settlements peppering the riverbanks. Not as vast as Ar Noy had been, but they were still there.

Their conversation – or, mayhap, lecture would be more accurate – with Prince Oberyn had been rather humbling; like understanding the price of the impossible and wondrous feats her Valyrian ancestors had accomplished, which had been hundreds, if not thousands of slaves sacrificed to fuel their wealth and magic. It had been eye-opening to see the charred and molten ruins of a civilization driven from their homes at the hands of the Valyrian Freehold. Her husband had the right of it, however: they had to pick apart the right lessons from their ancestors' legacies and mark their own paths for their descendants to follow on.

Despite this, however, Dany was rather relieved to learn from idle chatter among the crew that they had seen the last of the ruins a couple of days ago. As illuminating as the experience had been, she did not take pleasure in the contemplative mood it put her into.

But, she did take pleasure at the awe her dragons continued to inspire in the crew and sellswords. Even after a fortnight, the men on deck still stared at her children whenever they could; they stared open-mouthed and wide-eyed, they pointed, they gasped when they breathed fire. It brought a sense of satisfaction that only sharing a bed with her niece and nephew surpassed.

Now, however, she was neither naked in bed with her husband and lover nor was she on deck, basking in the attention her dragons were receiving. Her husband, her lover, and their advisors and guardians were congregated in the captain's quarters, which they had hastily repurposed into something akin to a council of war. A dusty, faded map of the area was unrolled across the table in the centre of the room, where the Commander stood by and stared down intently at the ragged piece of leather – outside of his armour for once. He wore an olive green vest over a black tunic which's sleeves barely reached past his elbows, baring several faded scars on his forearms. It didn't surprise her that his frame dwarfed hers still, even if it was a foreign sight to not see him donning his battle-scarred plate armour but in breeches and tunics instead.

"We are around here," Pahryl said in his gravelly voice, placing his finger on a point just at the river mouth leading to Dagger Lake. "It should take us another hour or so to reach the lake."

"Dagger Lake. I must admit that I have never had the displeasure of crossing there in all my travels across Essos," Prince Oberyn spoke up, "but I've heard plenty of stories during my time with the Second Sons."

"Then I'm sure you're aware that the lake is infested with pirates." Pahryl let his gaze wander over them.

"Yes, we spoke of this already," Rhaenys said impatiently.

"A reminder never hurts, little Queen." The Commander's finger was now on Dagger Lake. "Many little islands with hidden caves lay scattered across this lake, and all of them filled with these river vermin. No mapmaker has ever survived the journey to mark down all the dwellings within the lake itself. The pirates always make sure to slit the throat of every single one they find to not deprive themselves of their advantage. It's almost an unspoken rule among their lot." Pausing for a moment, Pahryl gave them all a meaningful look. "Now, what you are not made aware of yet is that among this den of corsairs, two, in particular, are very notorious...for very different reasons, I might add." He removed his finger from the map and held it up. "First, Urho the Unwashed."

"That is a rather...unflattering...moniker," Aegon observed with raised brows.

Pahryl grinned wryly. "Heh. It is said that his stench alone is enough to drop a man dead. Not even the sweet perfumes of Lys could cover up the reek."