Zokla | Theon Greyjoy

Chapter 16

Daenerys called her to the cliffs.

The view was exquisite. Sea stretched out in all directions ahead, as the bright green grass extended past the way she'd come. The breeze was cold but not brittle, much more welcoming than the North.

The Dragon Queen looked down at her dragons, playing together over the edge of the water, flying upwards then suddenly dropping as if to catch one another. It reminded Lyarra of how the direwolves used to play when they were pups. How Minisa tried to crawl around entertaining Merrett even though he was too little to join in.

"Your Grace," greeted Lyarra, curtsying. "A beautiful place to meet."

"It is, isn't it?" said Daenerys calmly. Her tone was much softer now. Perhaps she felt more comfortable when she wasn't surrounded by men. Lyarra understood that sentiment. "A perfect place for my children to thrive."

"That is all a mother can hope for, isn't it?" agreed Lyarra. "I wish the same for my daughter."

Daenerys raised a brow. "Yes, Lord Tyrion did tell me you have a daughter. How old?"

"Nearly two, Your Grace. I wish her father had lived to see her grow. He drew very well, I've no doubt he'd have made such a perfect sketch of her, one I might carry around with me wherever I pleased."

She gazed up at the dragons, seeing the different colors– the largest was black with bright scales and red-black wings, the same one that'd passed over them. Drogon, she'd heard him called. The Queen's personal mount.

The two smaller ones were matched in size– one with green and bronze scales and yellow-orange wings, the other with cream and gold scales and red-orange wings. Rhaegal and Viserion, named for the Queen's brothers. She wondered what she'd name a pack of direwolves if she had to give them each a name that reminded her of her siblings.

"I hope all is well," said Lyarra, trying to fill the silence. "Your messenger arrived rather anxious yesterday."

"That was Lord Varys, King Robert's Master of Whispers," said Daenerys. "He told me some troubling news... in fact, I am here processing it. There is much to think of, as of late."

"Yes, I imagine. Your Grace, I do not mean to be too forward nor do I mean to be rude. I simply hope that I will have the opportunity to explain things you may not know about the North. Things no one really knows unless they've lived there. We're... a very particular group of people. Yet, I believe we can all find similarities if we were to be open to it."

Daenerys nodded. "Perhaps. I hear you wished to trade stories?"

"If you are comfortable with it, Your Grace." Lyarra cleared her throat, beginning to explain to her every bit of truth– including the question of Minisa's parentage and what befell the Boltons. It didn't matter to her if Daenerys knew what she was capable of with poisons. How else could she show Daenerys why Jon had been chosen? Why the North wanted their freedom?

She did tell her, also, how she'd spoken to her siblings about that matter of independence. It was not the most pressing issue at the moment, though of course, the Northerners would be upset if it wasn't given outright. Lyarra may not have seen the White Walkers or wights or the Night King himself, but she believed Jon and so did their people. Their faith, their experience, it all merited further understanding. It needed to be given the benefit of the doubt.

Daenerys responded with her own story. Her experience on the run as a child with an abusive brother who wanted nothing more than to retake the Iron Throne. She told her about her forced marriage to Khal Drogo, about a terrible stillbirth with the only child she ever managed to conceive. She talked about freeing slaves in Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen. About being kidnapped by the Dothraki and her dragons being restless, about Yara and Theon Greyjoy coming to offer their support.