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Published:2020-04-25Updated:2026-04-06Words:409,591Chapters:71/?Comments:5,538Kudos:6,020Bookmarks:1,659Hits:467,056
The Stormborn and the Stormbringer
SkilledWarriorKiwi
Chapter 38: The Prince
Chapter Text
The Tattered Prince, despite his manners and lifestyle being so different, reminded Daenerys of Ser Barristan.
Both were men in their sixties but still straight backed with a strong, commanding voice. Long hair bleached white from age, a face deeply wrinkled and tanned from long years outdoors and body fit and lean.
However while Barristan was clad in gleaming white and gold armour the Tattered Prince wore a ragged cloak made of strips of sun-faded cloth of many colors, blue and grey and purple, red and gold and green, magenta and vermilion and cerulean and chartreuse. His armour was a dull steel, in good condition but without a strong polish.
He was also one of the few men Daenerys had met that did not let his gaze stray from her eyes, keeping his attention firmly upon her face rather than sliding down to leer her body.
Even the Tattered Prince's great grey warhorse had a steel composure, unwavering and calm despite Ghidorah's proximity to it from where it was leashed to the hitching poles next to the great grey sailcloth pavilion they were meeting under. Streamers of pale blue silk fluttered from the top of the tent poles, whilst fork-tailed blue-and-white banners were staked throughout the camp. The standards of the Windblown.
The Windblown who'd met with her in the Great Pyramid were grouped loosely behind their Prince, including the blue-eyed woman who was as tall and broad shouldered as Ser Barristan. Daenerys herself had her Queensguard including her kos and Missandei. Daario she'd left in Meereen along with Skahaz. Daario would not behave she knew, and she had no patience for his snipes towards the Windblown as the Tyroshi was still ill tempered after the deceivement.
And of course Ghidorah, with the back sailcloth of the pavilion pinned back so he could stick a head beneath it within arms reach of her. The other two were outside, keeping close watch upon the nervous camp of Windblown.
Only two men stood at the Tattered Prince's side. One Denzo D'han who looked as old as the Tattered Prince and a self-proclaimed warrior poet who survived hundreds of battles. And the towering Caggo who was of Dothraki stock, taller and broader than even Strong Belwas and covered in as many scars as the eunuch. Daenerys could also tell the great black arkah that Caggo held was of Valyrian steel.
The Tattered Prince had offered her wine, a rich stock from a masters larder but she had refused it, having lost her taste for wine. But it was not gentle mullings over wine the old sellsword captain wanted from her so they did not tarry in getting to business.
"Your swordswoman Meris stated the reasons you wished to speak to me," Daenerys said, eyes briefly straying to where said woman was standing at the Tattered Prince's back. "That you had always planned to come to my side when you learned of my campaign. That you sent her and fellow Westerosi as a gesture of familiarity until the...Dornish exchange took much of my attention."
"Yes, Meris delivered my terms true. As she did my price."
"Pentos."
"Yes."
"And how am I to give you such a thing?" she asked. "It is a world away."
"I am willing to wait, Your Grace," the Tattered Prince said. "Until you march to Westeros."
They spoke in classic High Valyrian and the Tattered Prince spoke it with consummate ease just as Daenerys did so.
"I will indeed turn east when the time is right," Daenerys agreed. "Now that Meereen is healing and the masters are somewhat subdued. I will tame them further when I march."
"Dick Straw, Lewis Lanster, Lucifer Long, Ginger Jack, Will of the Woods and Orson Stone are of Westerosi stock," the Tattered Prince said with a brief gesture to those behind him, "These I sent to you along with the Dornish men. Sellswords come from all manner of the world and from many means of life. Though in the case of the three Dornishmen I was unaware of their true identities when I sent them on their quest to parley with you so I intended no deceit when I sent them to you."
"Prince Quentyn and his fellow Dornishmen are currently my guests and as such under my protection," Daenerys said.
"The boy signed an agreement with the Windblown, pledging his service for a year."
"Under a false name, the squire Frog does not exist to sign his life away to be a sellsword. Regardless, I doubt you asked for an audience simply to demand Prince Quentyn return to your service. However if you wish to send him a letter demanding he honour his agreement then I can pass it along for you."
A snort of amusement from Ghidorah, scaled lips curling to briefly show fangs and a forked tongue. The Windblown around the Tattered Prince tensed and fussed, some gripping at their weapons.
"If you wish for liars for your court then it is your decision Queen Daenerys," the Tattered Prince said evenly. "But you are correct. I did not request an audience with you simply over a foolish boy. He is lucky he escaped to the dragon queen's mercy however though I will speak a warning to you as an ally. Every turncloak has his tale. He was not the first to swear me his swords, take my coin, and run. All of them have reasons, all of them have their excuses. 'My little son is sick,' or 'My wife is putting horns on me'. Another fellow told me our food was so wretched that he had to flee before it made him sick, so I had his foot cut off, roasted it up, and fed it to him. Then I made him our camp cook. Our meals improved markedly, and when his contract was fulfilled he signed another. This little sand prince should be well grateful he is taken under a dragon's wing to avoid the repercussions for his treachery, but remember well that he came to you an oathbreaker and lied all through his journey leading to it."
Daenerys swallowed back her distaste even if it clashed with Ghidorah's merriment over the Tattered Prince's words. He found the notion of a human having to eat his own foot quite funny even if Daenerys did not find it so.
"Forgive my rudeness Tattered Prince, yet from what I have seen all sellsword companies are a motley lot," Daenerys said rather than comment upon the forced cannibalism. "From disgraced knights and banished lords to those seeking a meal to those who simply enjoy killing. Honour and integrity does not seem to be a strict diet for a sellswords life and they seem to be made of men of many different stripes."
"Meris is no man," one of the Windblown behind the Tattered Prince suddenly spoke, a man with white hair and an unsettling smile as he gestured to the blond woman next to him. "Meris, sweet, undo your shirt, show the dragon queen you are as womanly as she is."
Daenerys' gaze hardened into a sharp glare at the abrupt, crass remark towards her, a gesture mimicked by Ghidorah before he snarled as his mirth vanished in an instant. Around her, her Queensguard also bristled and Barristan's hand dropped to the hilt of his sword with a scowl.
A tense silence followed, Daenerys irate and the Tattered Prince looked displeased for the first time since she entered his pavilion.
"Leave," the Tattered Prince's voice never rose and he not once looked back but his voice had such a sharp, vicious edge to it that made the man all but run from the tent. Outside she heard Ghidorah's left most head hiss and snap at the man and a startled yelp.
"I would ask you to excuse Dick Straw," the Tattered Prince said, his voice impossibly calm. "I will have him flogged for his insolence and distasteful remark, Your Grace. Hanged, if you so wish it."
"He is your man, punish him as you see fit."
"Very well," the man gave a faint gesture and the sellswords at his back excluding Meris quickly filed from the tent to the camp beyond. "But back before the interruption; my warning over the boy is apt. Dorne is a place of snakes and scorpions after all, and poison and treachery is a Dornish lot."
"I understand your warning, Tattered Prince."
Daenerys shifted in her seat, leaning back slightly. Perhaps there was truth in the old sellsword commander's words. Dorne had fought the Targaryens for so long, had killed Rhaenys and Meraxes, and Quentyn had lied and slunk about to finally find her in Meereen. Though from what little she'd gleaned in their brief interactions the boy hardly seemed some mastermind. He acted nervous and flighty, unsure of himself. Or maybe a farce, who knew. She didn't have any proof he even was the Dornish prince beyond a withered piece of parchment and she knew from Missandei's searching near flawless forgery existed.
A conundrum for another time.
"But back to your request," Daenerys said, rubbing at the ruby in Blackfyre's pommel. "That I grant you the city of Pentos."
"That is what I seek. Many years ago when I was three-and-twenty I was chosen to be the new Prince of Pentos only hours after the previous prince was beheaded. Instead I spurned the position and instead became the first and only commander of the Windblown. This is the way of life for we men of the free companies. One war ends, another begins. Fortunately there is always someone fighting someone somewhere. And there I stayed for decades, fighting all across Essos for gold, but now my long self-exile is ready to end. So that is my price."
Her kos knew the Valyrian tongue; not enough to speak but enough to understand and they certainly did not approve of the demand as they quickly made known.
Rakharo spoke from her side in the rough Dothraki dialect. "It is the right of the strong to take from the weak. They're too weak to take Pentos themselves so they beg to you. They have no strength to take it themselves. Take them instead as your khalasar, Khalessi, but don't give begging dogs scraps just because they whine."
The great scarred man at the Tattered Prince's side bristled and replied in the same harsh tongue, "Watch how you talk, welp. Least you want to get your tongue cut out."
"Cowards I say," Aggo scoffed openly at the man, "You come pleading to the Khalessi but you offer her no gifts or tributes or the heads of her enemies. We should feed you all to her dragon or burn you at a pyre for being so stupid and weak."
"Enough," Daenerys cut in. Both Aggo and Rakharo fell silent but she could tell from the way they were holding themselves they were ready for a fight and slighted on her behalf.
The Tattered Prince did not intervene but Daenerys got the impression he understood Dothraki if the slight narrowing of his eyes were anything to understand.
"My kos do raise valid points, however," Daenerys said after a moment of silence, "Tattered Prince, you ask me for Pentos. What do you offer me in exchange for it? It would seem I would be more wise to grant it to subjects who have been steadfast and loyal to me, not one who had joined my enemies. You claim to want Pentos in reward for serving me faithfully but I have many others who have served me longer who would deserve such a thing. You may claim you were loyal since you heard of me but words are wind and your actions say otherwise."
The Tattered Prince was as calm and composed as ever. Ghidorah was also fed up with the conversation, believing much like her Dothraki kos. Offended and annoyed at these demands from people he cared nothing for even if the nuance escaped him. She could tell from his thoughts he believed they should just kill the entire Windblown company. Rid themselves of any more worthless requests.
Daenerys took a deep breath before meeting the Tattered Prince's gaze squarely as she answered, "So my answer is no. I will not give you Pentos when I march west. You have done nothing to warrant a city as a reward for your service as all you have done is turn on the masters when I already broke their army. You only turned against the masters during the siege of Meereen when I have had many others more loyal who I can appoint as a council. You have done nothing to warrant such a reward from me. No."
"Well. That is a shame," the Tattered Prince's voice gave nothing away. Placid and calm like a mountain lake.
"However," Daenerys said, speaking slowly and carefully as her gaze never strayed from the Tattered Prince's own, "It is true that during my campaign I must also leave behind stable cities. I will not let the masters regrow and am aware Pentos is still much a slaver city despite Braavos' attempts to wring their necks which grow ever successful. So I say to you, Tattered Prince. You state you are willing to wait for my campaign and I hope that means you are also willing to prove your worth of both my regard and Pentos. Prove yourself as a leal, able and competent servant, someone who I can indeed trust to rule Pentos and I will reassess my decision given today when the time comes."
Rogues and cutthroats, scum of a hundred battlefields, Ser Barristan had warned her.
Daenerys was not foolish enough to trust the commander of the Windblown but she was not about to spite more troops. Perhaps the Tattered Prince could prove himself a competent leader; he had after all led a band of rogues and cutthroats for decades without being killed. There must be some skill in that.
Missandei also told her that the man who'd made that crass remark to her and Meris had been crucified in the Windblown camp, nailed upon a wooden cross to die of exposure for all to see. Daenerys could hardly pass judgement on that for she had told the Tattered Prince to punish the man as he saw fit and she did her fair share of crucifying.
It mattered not. Either the Tattered Prince would meet her terms or would not. She would deal with him either way when the time came. As it was, her meeting with the sellsword company had occurred in the early morning and Daenerys spent the rest of that time traveling around Meereen's plains upon the back of her striped one with her Queensguard and Missandei. The Windblown camp was close to the river and remained in sight as she personally greeted the farmers toiling at the bean fields as Ghidorah circled high above.
A part of her was also pleased that a few of the masters who had survived the trials were working the fields. Both as them now knowing the true strength to bring forth seed and sapling and food but also that the freedmen had still welcomed the past masters to start a new life. It spoke to the integrity of her children even if the ex-masters would only speak to her feet, never daring to meet her eyes and flinching at the sound of Ghidorah's wings above.
To the farmers she greeted warmly and personably, jumping down from her striped one to meet them on level and letting them touch her hair with dirtied hands and asking them about the growth of the fields. More also called out to Ghidorah; she noticed they were now more prone to reaching to her child, praising and cheering him after the trials. Ghidorah certainly appreciated the regard.
Some asked for her blessing. One woman asked Daenerys to name the child within her swollen belly. Through it all Barristan was a white shadow at her side, her kos vigilant and Strong Belwas eating a leg of roasted horse that Daenerys had no idea where he'd even gotten it from. At least the landscape was well recovered from the great storm, even if there were still the occasional rent through the earth like a jagged scar from lightning strikes.
The air was warm and the sun was bright and the clouds scant and puffy. When Daenerys returned to Meereen and the Great Pyramid it was well past noon and she took a bath to rid herself of the sweat that had slicked her limbs. Once done she met with Grey Worm. He and the Unsullied had been studying the ruined remains of the Six Sisters and had used the designs to reinforce the trebuchets erected upon Meereen's own walls. Then she sent a missive to Prince Quentyn, inviting him to supper with her. She felt that it would give him adequate time to prepare, for he had seemed tremendously nervous in the audience chamber and she did not wish to take him unawares.
In the time between now and the supper Daenerys viewed the regrowth of Meereen. She visited the markets reopened in the streets, surrounded by her guard with Ghidorah's watchful presence above as she surveyed the wares and was offered countless gifts. She also visited the great port where many of the ship husks from the siege were in partial states of repair or dismemberment. The slaver fleet had brought ample wood and materials and her people made good use of them as they had all of the supplies the masters left behind.
By the time the sun began to slide towards the horizon, Daenerys felt almost rung out like a wet cloth from the never ending stream of people she met and spoke and touched. Yet still she doubted the supper with the Dornish prince would be arduous, or at least she hoped it would not be.
Missandei helped her dress for the supper in the colours of House Targaryen, a dress of shimmering black silk with a crimson sash across her chest and tied at her waist. As her new habit, she wore a corset of chainmail beneath the black silk and a long dagger strapped to her thigh as she would not take Blackfyre. A necklace made from Ghidorah's tooth hung around her neck on a golden chain, with more gold for her fingers and wrists. The scribe also dabbed soft spots of a mild, sweet perfume upon her nape and wrists. She found herself disliking the stronger scents now, perhaps Ghidorah's own distaste seeping through.
Ghidorah had landed upon the apex of the Great Pyramid as Missandei bowed and permitted Prince Quentyn entry. He had brought his two knights with him but at Daenerys' gentle suggestion they were left outside the door of her chambers with Ser Barristan and Strong Belwas. Missandei stayed to attend them, serving the supper at the table by before the balcony overlooking Meereen.
The meal was lamb roasted with honey and peppers, served along with a salad of raisins and carrots, with hot flaky bread. There was also a flagon of Volantene wine though Daenerys' goblet was filled with cool spring water. She had a feeling Quentyn would not be partial to the more traditional Meereenese fare of dog. Then again even in her time at Meereen she hadn't warmed up to it either.
She tried to let Quentyn relax as they ate, choosing plain topics to speak of. Asking him how the climate of Essos compared with Dorne, telling him of the exotic animals she'd met in her journeys, talking of her travels upon the sea and the ports she'd visited.
He was nervous throughout the meal, even when Missandei cleared away their emptied plates and quietly left them be, not just due to Daenerys' presence but also because he could no doubt hear Ghidorah's breathing out beyond the balcony of where he was resting above. She was well used to it, the noise like the constant wheeze of distant bellows of a smithy but Quentyn was not. He had not met her child face-to-face after all. Well. She tried to soothe him and while Quentyn was a sweet conversationalist he lacked the silver tongue of many a man she had met.
Better for her then. Though she thought of the Tattered Prince's warning words to Dornish treachery and inwardly sighed. She greatly doubted the Prince of Dorne was some master conspirator. She'd seen their likes in Qarth and Meereen and Quentyn was not cut of that cloth. Too nervous, too earnest, too green.
But he was a prince. Perhaps words were not his passion or they became tangled upon his tongue. It was one of the reasons she invited him to supper, to get to know him. Even if marriage was not on hand she hoped nonetheless for an alliance with Dorne. Even if she refused to subordinate herself to them.
"That was a very pleasant meal," Quentyn spoke. He didn't seem to know what to do with his hands, awkwardly wringing his fingers before forcing them flat on the table.
"I will have word sent to the cooks," Daenerys smiled.
"It was a difficult journey at times, the Dornish have never been seafarers and I've eaten more stale and plain fish then I care to remember," Quentyn said with a slight smile.
"I understand. With the Dothraki all they ate was horse horse and more horse. And only seemed to drink fermented mares milk."
"You...spent long with the Dothraki? I spoke briefly with one of you um, kos. When we were with Naharis. He said you were a Khalessi."
"Yes. I traveled much of the Dothraki Sea when my husband was still living," Daenerys said, sipping at her goblet. "Essos is a beautiful country but not a particularly kind one. When Drogo was killed his khalasar, which was one hundred thousand strong, split into many pieces and scattered beyond into the Dothraki Sea. My kos, Rakharo, Aggo and Jhogo, remained behind. As did a handful who became my khalasar. They stayed with me and witnessed my child being born."
"I got sent to Yronwood from a young age. Lord Yronwood became a second father to me."
It was a niceness, to speak to Quentyn of such things even if life turned them morbid. He told her how he was raised, as it had been to pay a blood debt as the previous lord of Yronwood had died in a duel with Prince Oberyn Martell. His cuts had festered and he died, followed thickly by rumours of the Red Viper using his infamous skill at poisons. So Quentyn was sent there and could barely even remember Sunspear. He received his knighthood at eighteen and the lord's son, Cletus, had been his closest friend and a brother in everything but blood. Who had been killed by corsairs in their quest to find Daenerys.
In turn she told him of Doreah and Irri, though her losses had been marked with treachery. Of Qarth and the House of the Undying and the vault. Though she kept her visions to herself. Perils followed them all, nipping at their heels. Waiting for them to trip.
But eventually their conversation turned again to his intention in Meereen. A hesitant offer yet again. A mention of the pact, yellowed and hidden and sealed by men dead. He was determined, if nothing else.
"Alliances have been forged without marriages before," Daenerys said.
"Yes, but they are the most common and true. It was how centuries of fighting was ended between House Martell and House Targaryen."
"So there is no friendship between our Houses unless our hands are joined?"
"Dorne is fifty thousand spears, ready and willing if this marriage is true. My father is a cautious man. He wants an alliance that is more than just words."
"Quentyn," Daenerys' voice was blunt but her lack of his title caught his attention and he straightened up in his chair like a scolded boy before a septa.
"Your Grace?"
"Were you in Meereen during the siege?"
"Yes."
"And you witnessed myself and my child break the slaver alliance, a force of seventy thousand with our own two selves?"
"I...I did, Your Grace."
"So let me ask you plain. Do you have dragons hidden in Dorne? Eggs even?"
"No."
"Then you have nothing to tempt me with," Daenerys said, tone flat and unyielding.
Quentyn's square face flushed. "The marriage pact- "
" -was made by two dead men and contained not a word about myself or you," Daenerys interrupted but not unkindly. "It promised your sister's hand to my brother Viserys and he is long dead. It has no force, unfortunately, and I am not beholden to a pact that makes no mention of me at all. Until you turned up here I was entirely unaware of its existence. Your father keeps his secrets well. But I must say he did so too well. If I had known of that pact in Qarth then I in all likelihood would never have turned it aside for Slaver's Bay and masters blood. But you have come too late. I do not wish to spite or rebuke you but it will be some time before I ever trod upon Westerosi soil. Years, perhaps. Are you willing to wait that long for me?"
Outside, the sky had begun to shift to purples and smeared oranges as the air cooled. Above there was the scrape of scale and flex of wings.
Quentyn tensed at her words, "I won't have this journey of mine be for no reason."
"If you do choose to return home I will offer my aid gladly," Daenerys said. "A good stout ship and better-still sailors with ample gold and supplies to see you home. I can even offer the exotic pelts and spices from the far likes of Yi Ti so you can return with pride. I do appreciate the effort and loss you took to find me, do not doubt that."
"If you're going to return to Westeros then I will stay here until you do," Quentyn said.
"You will wait years? Taking an army on the march is slow work, and I do not yet have the ships for them. But I will give a ship to you and your knights if you wish. The Tattered Prince has made his ire towards you quite known, even if I have taken you as my guest. I would not be surprised if he would choose a catspaw in the dark or some underhanded scheme. You can return to Westeros."
"But you will as well one day. My father gave me this task and...even if the original intention cannot be fulfilled I won't let this effort go to naught," Quentyn said, straightening up in his chair. "I am a prince of Dorne, Your Grace. I won't run from sellswords or slavers. And I have my two knights with me."
"Two against many more enemies."
"I trust them with my life."
"Good companions to have close then. Enemies are everywhere. But you already know that so if you do indeed wish to stay as my guest you may. But do not expect marriage or haste on my behalf. I have many other things to attend to, not just looking west but to also tame the masters as they have been wild too long. But I will return to Westeros. Both for the Iron Throne but also for a far great threat northward."
"You...asked me that before. About the Others. The stories from the North," Quentyn said hesitantly.
"Yes. I will answer you plainly. Another Long Night is coming."
The prince was clearly confused by her words, brow furrowed as he said, "Like from the stories given to children? The...the Others?"
"They are real. They are real and they will destroy the Wall one way or another. Do you not wonder why men would build a wall over seven hundred feet tall? To keep out wildlings? No, something far worse than that. I have been in Essos for years, I have seen things I cannot describe. Magic both good and bad and paid in blood. The House of the Undying and the strange wraiths within. My own child can be seen as one for a dragon such as himself has never existed before. The age of magic is happening again and the beings beyond the Wall in the Land of Always Winter are awake and moving."
"I...see," Quentyn finally said even if it was obvious he did not.
Unbothered Daenerys shrugged, taking a sip from her goblet, "Truthfully it does not matter if you believe me or not. I know the truth and that is that. I offer you my intentions so take them what you will. And I will fight for the dawn when the time comes, as I swore to my great great uncle Aemon before he passed."
She swallowed down the cool water before rising to her feet. The black and red silk shifted around her as she walked to the balcony, stepping out into the cooling air as sunset settled heavily across Dragon's Bay. With a slither of scales Ghidorah stretched down a long neck, Daenerys reaching up to gently touch his snout.
Quentyn stayed well within the room, not daring to go forward.
"And you know of my stipulation for my hand," Daenerys said, dropping her hand to face the Dornish. Ghidorah's neck stretched down further, curling around her so he was looking into the room, at Quentyn with judging crimson eyes.
She knew from his thoughts he did not think much of Quentyn. Though he liked Quentyn's sharp, abrupt fear of him. Perhaps it was cruel of her, to suddenly have him come face to face with her child and in such proximity, but she spoke true when she said that if she did take a spouse it would only be one her child approved of. And he was not fond of this Dornish prince.
"My son," Daenerys said. A hand landed upon one of Ghidorah's horns. They had grown thick enough she couldn't wrap a hand around them. She remembered when they were soft and as small as a kittens claw.
Quentyn kept back, wringing his hands before he forcibly stopped himself. Ghidorah scoffed, muzzle wrinkling slightly and she shifted her palm to his snout, stroking it until his snarl was gone. But his dislike was clear. So with a gentle mental ask Ghidorah let out a grumble but pulled back his neck, shifting back up upon the Great Pyramid's apex and out of sight.
"Fire and blood. Thunder and lightning. The Stormborn and the Stormbringer, mother and son," Daenerys said as she walked back into the room. "And unfortunately, my child is not too fond of you. So marriage is not something I will agree to currently, Prince Quentyn. Perhaps, since you intend to stay in Meereen, you may change mine and my child's mind. But presently a dragons disapproval is a powerful thing."
"He...he is a fearsome creature," Quentyn managed to say. Sweat was upon his brow.
"He is a dragon," Daenerys said, gently taking one of Quentyn's trembling hands between her own and kissed him lightly, once on each cheek. "And so am I. But more than anything, he is my son."
Quentyn nodded but his face burned as red as Dorne's sandy hills. At least his fear was abating from her abrupt affection.
The boy was too earnest, Daenerys thought. Determined, sure. But not well footed and too eager to please. Desperate for his father's approval to the point she feared recklessness. Ghidorah would have no mercy for fools, she knew. But he did not flee from her child even with the abrupt encounter. So it was a start.
"Enough unpleasantness, let us speak of other things," Daenerys said, as she settled back down in her seat with a swirl of silk. "While marriage may not be for us, I would hope we can be allies. Perhaps friends. Why do you not tell me of this other Daenerys you spoke of before? I know less than I should of the history of my father's kingdom. I never had a maester growing up."
With a nervous but sincere smile Quentyn sat back down opposite her, "It would be my pleasure, Your Grace."
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