"He'll be back, princess," Torrhen had barely moved from his position. He had been there for a week, waiting for the prince. Brandon sent him food, otherwise he wouldn't eat.
"You should be hanged just for letting him go," Brandon, at her side, bowed his head at her words.
"We didn't let him go," he clarified. "But we couldn't stop him from leaving either." The man was aware of his weakness.
Daenerys was in a panic. Her husband's men had kept the news of the prince's departure well hidden. She thought he was working on finding another castle or a place to move to. Not for a moment did she think he would abandon her; she trusted him.
She missed his warmth at night. The deaths had not stopped. The day after the prince left, eight died, and the next day, nine. A week after his departure, fourteen died. She had heard Lady Whent mock her misfortune.
Only the thought that Jaehaerys would return comforted her. She didn't know what she would do if he didn't get back.
"He's not coming back. He'll have found another girl and a ship to take him east," the witch Whent had told her. For a moment, she found herself considering her words.
Days earlier, she had received a letter from her mother. King's Landing was near, and it took only a few days for rumors of the curse to reach the Queen Mother's ears. Her mother urged her to return to the capital. And to drag her husband back with her. She would have listened, but where was her husband?
She left the two men, although Brandon followed her, stubborn as a mule. She rode fast, hoping to lose him. But she had underestimated how good a rider he was. Within the walls, there were no whispers. She entered through a small door protected by guards. The gate was closed. She had ordered it on Qyburn's advice. More than a hundred men had already died, and hundreds had left. More would have followed if they could.
The former maester said that Jaehaerys would appreciate it if she kept his people inside. And that even if they left, they would end up dying.
She didn't know if it was the right thing to do. There had been fifty deaths since she ordered the gates closed. Those deaths weighed heavily on her conscience.
'Should I abandon everything and return to King's Landing?' She shook her head. To do so would be to give up on her husband. Although now that she knew he was on the Isle of Faces, she might never see him again.
She looked at the black stone walls. She disliked them, but it was her duty to stay there. To hold it for her husband. 'I am the lady of this land, of this castle. And my husband will come back for me.'
"M'lady," she heard someone call her—a skinny, short young boy. "Please open the doors," he begged. Dany looked at the boy, who couldn't have been more than two and ten.
"Prince Jaehaerys will be back soon," she said from her white steed.
The words were meant to be comforting, but to whom: the child in front of her or herself?
"He has been searching for a solution to the whole problem," she said. She was not used to speaking in front of an audience, so when she raised her voice, it broke.
"Liar!" someone in the crowd shouted. And others followed it.
The cries of the people grew louder and louder, her horse became nervous from the noise, and Dany had trouble staying on. Her hands tightened on the reins.
"We're doomed," some said.
"They brought us here to die," others roared.
Soon, the sound of swords being drawn could be heard. The crowd took a few steps back. Daenerys couldn't let this continue.
"Sheathe your swords," she ordered her men. She didn't want to shed innocent blood.
"Princess, we can't-"
"Sheathe them," her voice tightened as she looked at Brandon. The man nodded and complied, but his hand rested on the hilt of his sword.
"Protect your princess," said the Northerner.
Daenerys looked at the crowd gathered around her. Not all the workers were there. Some didn't care about the curse; they came from Flea Bottom, and going back there would mean a life of misery.
"You're afraid," her voice was firm, and the crowd fell silent. "So am I. I'm terrified of dying. As much as you are," she admitted. She looked at Serena in the distance, surrounded by a large group of knights guarding her. The girl had been stronger than her. A girl younger than the princess had shown more fortitude, as if she had been through worse. Looking at the Martell princess gave her strength. "Jaehaerys," her husband's name, brought a bittersweet taste to her mouth. "He is the brave one. It was my husband, your lord, your prince, who made a journey to the Isle of Faces to find a way to break the curse." The people began to murmur.
"Everyone dies when they enter the island. No one has ever returned from there," said a man.
"And yet... my husband has decided that your lives are worth the risk of the journey," tears welled up in her eyes; the thought of being widowed, of losing Jaehaerys, left a hole in her chest.
Brandon looked at her, sometimes forgetting how young she was.
"I trust him," Daenerys continued. Despite her eyes being moist with tears, her voice remained firm. "He will return, and I will remain here, waiting for him." She spurred her horse, the crowd now seeming calmer. "I will not hold anyone against their will. But I will remember those who stay," she said finally. "Open the gates!" The men obeyed her orders without question.
The princess passed between the men. The men in armor around her were attentive and moved, but alert.
As soon as the gates opened, dozens of men poured out. No one stopped them.
They were few compared to all those who were demanding that the gates be opened. Dany watched out of the corner of her eye as the same young man who had spoken to her stood still, staring at her.
Daenerys had prayed to the Seven. To the mother, the warrior, the father, and the maiden. Her prayers had never been answered. She was tired and decided to go to the Godswood.
Her men advised her against it, but she stood her ground. The first day they arrived at Harrenhal, she and Jae had planned to go, and they only avoided it because night fell upon them.
A small path led to the weirwood tree. Dany looked at the beautiful white tree with its red leaves and felt a mix of peace and discomfort as if something inside the wood was scrutinizing her.
She lay down at the roots and slept, only the gods know how long.
"You're covered in dirt," she heard as she was awakened. She felt someone caressing her cheek.
"Jae!" She threw herself into his arms. 'What a beautiful dream.' She thought.
"Brandon said you calmed the crowd like a queen," he said, stroking her hair.
She shuddered. It felt too real.
"You're back?" she asked. "You came back?" She sounded incredulous.
The cold earth told her the truth. It wasn't a dream; he had returned. Somehow, he had made it off the island alive.
"Yes. Now I have to use those ghosts as fertilizer," he said, stepping away, reluctant. She looked at a clay jar in the prince's hands. "This should revive the tree." As soon as he poured the red liquid on the roots of the weirwood, a flock of crows began to attack it. They couldn't do much damage; their beaks couldn't penetrate the bark. Dany watched from the side, her face twisted in confusion.
Her sleepy mind didn't understand anything. She panicked when she saw the birds attacking her husband, but he kept the same expression. He managed to scare the birds away by waving his arms, each blow killing one or two birds. It looked like something out of a court jester act.
"What happened on the island?" she asked. "How did you get back?" She could think of a thousand other questions.
"The island let me return. I'll tell you later. Now I have to plant a weirwood tree. Can you think of a place?" The prince began to brush the dust off his pants and his wife's clothes. The men who were guarding the princess disappeared, probably on Jaehaerys' orders.
He picked up a large pot from the ground. Daenerys looked at the red leaves and white wood.
"In the garden," the dream vanished. And thinking about how peacefully she had slept at the foot of the tree increased her desire to have one inside the castle. How did her husband get a weirwood? That was a question for later.
"Let's get to it then," the garden was designed to be on the inner side of the five towers. Jaehaerys planned to use one of the central towers as a library, and the garden in front of it.
"Here," Dany pointed to a patch of ground where no grass grew. "I know it doesn't look like much, but it's the best place."
They were in the Flowstone yard, located at the center of the five broken towers. They weren't exactly in the center; Dany chose a spot closer to the wall connecting the Wailling Tower to the Tower of Ghosts.
"I'll trust you, then," said the prince. "I need a damn shovel."
"Here, my prince," said Torrhen, his twin brother at his side. They seemed to have been following them from afar. Dany looked at the men with an apology on her lips for saying she would hang them. "I'll help you dig."
"No need, I want to do it myself," he looked at the steel of the head as if it were the worst piece of trash he had ever seen.
"May I ask where you get the weirwood, my prince?" The man acted as if nothing had been said and took out a second shovel. Brandon looked at the tree from a distance, his brow furrowed.
"I got it on the Isle of Faces. It will help with the curse," he didn't say much after that. Both men set about digging in silence. Daenerys wondered why he hadn't ordered the peasants to dig the hole.
Her husband was a strange man. She let herself fall to the dirt floor as she watched him work.
She allowed herself a small smile of relief. Her husband was home.