Fire And Blood

Sorrows

Daenerys XIII

With Dagger Lake but a distant speck behind them, their ships were able to enjoy a few days of peace and quiet, cruising down the tepid waters of the Rhoyne. No pirates aside from Korra the Cruel and no immediate worries aside from their impending approach towards The Sorrows. But that was another day or two away still, so they revelled in the calm for now. 

When Daenerys woke up, however, her bare body tangled in the sheets with Aegon and Rhaenys after yet another night of passionate lovemaking, everything felt too calm. Not even the moaning and groaning of their ships and galleys could be heard through the thin walls in the eerie silence which had settled around her. It was unnerving. 

She reached out with a hand and shook her husband first and then her niece, calling their names, but there was no reaction from either. 

Arrax, Jadewing and Sundancer were curled up against each other in the far corners of their bedchamber as well, unperturbed by what was happening all around her. 

Exhaling forcefully through her nose, Daenerys climbed out of the bed after pushing the blanket off her body. She then slipped on an elegant silk robe of dark lavender and swept her narrowed gaze throughout the entire room. While she couldn't claim to possess vast knowledge of magic and sorcery, Daenerys immediately knew that she was somehow ensnared in its presence once more. For how could she forget the tingling sensation of something so otherworldly and foreign, of something that had felt both so unnatural and wrong yet so innate and right when she had used it unwittingly to hatch her children from their eggs turned stone? She had an inkling that something or someone had bewitched her in some way.

With hesitant steps, Daenerys walked toward the door and opened it slowly. She snuck her head out and peered left and right down the small hallway and saw naught but darkness at either end. Her brows furrowed. She strained her ears to grasp for any sort of noise, even her own breathing, and heard nothing from the crew members on deck who were supposed to be on duty right now. Stepping out of the supposed security of the bedchamber, a sudden chill washed over her that nearly made her teeth chatter and she wrapped her arms around herself in an ill-fated attempt to keep herself warm. Glancing back at her beloved Aegon and Rhaenys, both unmoved and undisturbed from her leaving the bed, Dany steeled herself and made her ascend above the deck. 

In just mere moments, as the way had become second nature to her, she was out in the open, the night sky and chilly air as still out here as everything was below deck. It was unnatural and felt, for lack of a better term, as if they had all been cursed.

"No one has been touched but you," a soft but clear voice spoke out, startling her and giving her a bout of panic.

Daenerys spun around and took a step back upon seeing a woman clad in blue robes, a hood draped over her head. The moon's light was giving her a glimpse of a red, lacquered wooden mask covering her face. The slits for the eyes appeared empty in the darkness that surrounded them. She missed the comfort of the river's gentle and soothing sound.

"Who are you?" demanded Daenerys, her tone hardening as she tried to collect herself. 

"I am Quaithe of the Shadow," the masked woman told her in the Common Tongue of the Seven Kingdoms. "I came seeking for you in Qohor but the Soothsayers remain steadfast in their vigil over the city. I could only give you my touch, lest my presence be discovered. Only now has the time arrived for us to speak."

Daenerys was confused, more so now than ever before. "I do not –" Her brows then furrowed and she tilted her head to the side in thought. Almost like a phantom sensation, Daenerys could feel the grip on her arm, the faint tingling pressure and she remembered the day when she had visited the Red Temple of Qohor with Ser Jorah accompanying her. "That was you?" Daenerys wondered. "You grabbed my arm?"