There were two babes in the Tower of Joy.
Two babes tied so closely to their parents, Ned had to make the decision.
One with hair like raven feathers, eyes as grey as steel, and a face of a true Stark. The other, with hair like moonlight, eyes lik...
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Rhaenar was dressed in a beautiful, slinky, deep blue dress as she straightened on the wicker chair. Her babies were beside her, Leirion stretched out lazily like a cat across her lap as she ran her hand over his scales. She was nervous; the Masters were coming today and that meant negotiations. Her indigo eyes scanned the room; Qotho, Jorah, and Ser Barristan all close to her. Qotho watched her for a moment, his eyes trailing across her face as she pursed her lips. He moved closer. "You are nervous, Khaleesi." He stated softly.
She nodded. "Don't be, there are thousands around you willing to die to protect you; the Masters can't hurt you." Rhaenar offered him a quick flick of the side of her lips; it looked more like a grimace than a smile. He sighed, holding his arakh in front of his chest as he took his place beside her.
A soft drumming came from outside, gently growing louder as her eyes shot before her. A man drummed in front of a series of slaves carrying a litter box; the master inside. Rhaenar watched as the slaves struggled, the heat getting to their skin as perspiration lined them. "Jheno, make sure the men out there are cared for while they are here; bring them water and food." She requested, looking at him. He nodded before leaving, shouting orders to the other Dothraki.
Missandei stepped before her; the man climbing out of the litter. "Now comes the noble Razdal mo Eraz of that ancient and honourable house, Master of Men and Speaker to Savages, to offer terms of peace." Leirion raised his head as Razdal walked close, his dark eyes in questioning as he took in Rhaenar and her dragons.He flinched. "Noble lord, you are in the presence of Rhaenar Blackfyre of House Targaryen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Breaker of Chains, and Mother of Dragons." Her eyes flickered to Qotho; when had she gained those titles?
"That is what the Unsullied call you, Khaleesi." Qotho offered subtly, his voice low. Razdal wouldn't show the fear, but she could sense it as he stayed way back.
"You can come closer, Razdal." She looked at one of the Dothraki girls; one of the jolting forward with a chair. "Please, sit."
"Will the noble lord take refreshment?" Missandei offered him wine. He nodded, Rhaenar watching on as he took it. It was one of the Dothraki's favourites, and she could tell he hated it. Razdal politely swallowed, placing the goblet to the floor.
"Ancient and glorious is Yunkai. Our empire was old before dragons stirred in old Valyria. Many an army has broken against our walls. You shall find no easy conquest here, Khaleesi." She looked to her left, opening a small clay pot where raw meat sat inside. It was a tactic for fear, her hand instantly throwing the meat before her as the dragons rushed towards it. The wind from the wings brushed against those who stood inside, the power that they possessed undeniable.
