The Queen of Flames (Sequel to 'The Demon of Winterfell') (On Hold)

Chapter Eight: Preparation

Emmelyne didn't like her chambers. They were dark. Empty. Cold. Far too quiet. She sat on her bed, smoothing her hands along her stomach. She tallied months in her mind. Three, if she were correct in her timing. "A child," she whispered to herself.

She'd never expected to have a child. Never even expected to be married. She'd thought she'd live out the life of a Red Priestess, traveling Westeros and spreading the religion. No one else knew. Perhaps, if she could find a maester, moon tea could be a solution. But, somewhere in her mind, she wanted this baby. What would Markus think? She knew that he loved her, but he was still noble, and his father had prospects of betrothals for him. Emmelyne tried to force the thoughts from her mind, pulling her legs up to her chest and letting out a few long breaths. She would not be sleeping tonight.

Jon visited Emmelyne just before he was to go to bed. "Daenerys has agreed to let us mine the dragonglass," he said, and there was a smile on his face. "I wondering if, when we had enough, would you like some arrows to be made? I know you brought your bow."

Emmelyne nodded, smiling as well. "Yes," she said. "That seems like a very good idea."

When the mining started, Jon supervised the men. Emmelyne didn't occupy herself with the mining; instead, she chose to remain in her room. Daenerys assigned a Dothraki girl named Halli to be Emmelyne's handmaiden. Halli was a sweet young girl, with long, black hair that she kept styled in what looked like thousands of tight braids. She had dark brown eyes, so dark that they were nearly black. She was tanned, and very small. Her knowledge of the Common Tongue was lacking, but she could at least say names and standard greetings. She told Emmelyne that she was fourteen, and before she came to Westeros, she had been a wife to Khal Moro, making her a Khaleesi. But when Daenerys saved her from Moro, she gave up the title, instead choosing to simply be a handmaiden. Emmelyne liked Halli very much.

The news of the morning was Theon Greyjoy returning to Dragonstone. Emmelyne hadn't seen Theon since she left Winterfell, and, honestly, she did not want to see him. He'd taken Winterfell and pretended to kill Bran and Rickon. He'd beheaded Rodrik Cassel. As far as Emmelyne was concerned, Theon could die and she would not care at all. He may have saved Sansa from Ramsay, but everything else outdid that.

Daenerys had left to attack a Lannister convoy. She managed to convert most of the men to her cause, but had to kill Randyll and Dickon Tarly in the process. When she was said to be returning, Jon and Emmelyne decided to wait and greet her. They stood on the cliffs, Jon looking out at the water. Emmelyne stared at the sky, looking around for the Mother of Dragons. Drogon's screeching sounded around them, and Jon turned to look as well. Daenerys urged him downward, letting him settle on the ground. His massive claws shook the ground. Emmelyne smiled brightly, still so surprised by the large creature. Drogon locked eyes with Jon, inching forward. He roared, and Emmelyne's widened at the side of his giant teeth. He lowered his head, still staring at Jon, who took a few hesitant steps forward, taking his glove off of his hand. Daenerys watched him closely. He reached out slowly, his hand shaking. It only ceased when he lay it on the dragon's scaled nose. He pat the scales gently. Emmelyne was filled with wonder. She moved forward as well, holding her hand out flat to Drogon. While his eyes were closed, he still sensed her presence. He sniffed her hand, opening his mouth slightly. In Emmelyne's palm, there were embers. They drifted upward, turning into a tiny tornado of flame. Daenerys was amazed. Jon was the first to move his hand away, but Emmelyne stayed a moment longer. She stared at the beautiful, spiraling fire. Red, orange, gold. She felt the faint heat of it on her hand. When she drew her hand away, it disappeared quickly. All that remained was a faint, swirling red mark on her palm. It was not a burn, for it did not pain her. Emmelyne reached for the ruby at her throat, and she let out a shuddering gasp.