What Shadows are Made of

"You must go back..."

The voice had been harassing her since the darkness fell on her, and as time passed, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen felt her resolve weakening.

I can't... I don't want to... She thought. I'm cold. I'm alone.

House Targaryen is gone, she thought. And so am I. Leave it be. Leave me be.

"Who are you?" She cried. "Won't you tell me?"

She heard a chuckle.

"I am the Flame of Truth. I am the Light of Wisdom."

These words meant nothing to her. She must have heard them one day, but now... Nothing mattered. Nothing ever did anymore.

"Where am I?" She asked.

She tried to shake the darkness from her body, but it covered her entirely. Thick, coarse, and full of tears. It smelt like cold sweat. She could almost touch it, as it enveloped her like a heavy, damp mantle. Its weight crushed her shoulders, and she found herself tumbling a few time. Yet, she knew it was all around her too, and the pain was even more so piercing as she tried to walk.

"You're in the shadows, now," The voice replied.

She raised her head, trying to find the owner of the voice.

"What are shadows made of?" She asked.

It itched, and she tried to scratch it away, her skin turning red as her hands moved over it.

"Oh, don't you know?"

She looked at her surroundings, feeling the despair coming at her once more.

"I am lost," she said.

"Do you remember?", it said. "Do you remember it all?"

What should I remember? She asked herself. What have I forgotten?

"To touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow..." It continued. "Three mounts you'd know..."

No, no. Never again, she wanted to scream.

Never that again.

"No, please..." She said.

They used me, she thought. All of them. No man ever loved me truly. Only my sun and stars. But he was not just a man. He had been the father of the Stallion who Mounts the World. Should have.

Daenerys blinked her tears away.

"Aren't you a dragon?" She heard another feminine and sarcastic voice asking her. "Dragons take, they don't beg. Even I know that."

She saw a red-haired girl in furs smirking at her, showing her crooked teeth to her. Her eyes were sparkling with mischief.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Tsk, you know nothing..." The stranger replied. "Just like him."

Blood rushed through her veins.

They were all mocking her pain, her losses, as if it had been nothing.

Treasons, that was all she suffered from. That was what kept her going...

"Three treasons..."

She shook her head. No. Not again.

"Once for blood..."