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Watching the towers of Moat Cailin slowly shrink in the distance behind them, Olenna allowed herself to relax for what felt like the first time since they'd entered the northern lands. She couldn't necessarily put it into words, but ever since they'd entered the North, she'd felt as if she were being constantly watched, no matter where she was. And it was only now that they were well south of the Northern border that she felt that constant watching presence disappear. 'Wouldn't put it past the sorcerer to be the cause. Though even with how powerful he is, and his power is without question now that Willas and Garlan have personally seen what he can do, I doubt even he is powerful enough to watch over someone even leagues away from where he is.'
"Grandmother, are you alright?"
"Hmm?" Olenna hummed, turning her attention back to the only other occupant in the carriage with her.
Despite having his leg healed, Willas had yet to regain his former endurance on a horse and therefore was spending a fair amount of time in the carriage with her while Margaery and her new handmaiden Myra rode in the carriage behind them. "I'm fine," she said, waving off the concerned look on her grandson's face. "These old bones are just glad to finally be out of the cold and back into some semblance of warmth."
Willas gave her a look and shook his head. "That isn't it, grandmother." Gods curse the North. She didn't know how it happened but seemingly overnight her grandchildren had all learned how to see through whenever she was trying to evade a certain line of questioning or trying to pull the wool over their eyes. "You're concerned. But why? We achieved everything we hoped and more. Our relationship with the Starks has improved tenfold. And I – I'm now betrothed to Sansa Stark, even if the wedding will not happen for years. Something I am quite frankly thankful for. Lord Stark has even allowed us to appoint a tutor for Lady Sansa so her transition will be easy on her. And we were able to learn how the Northerners are making their glass and we have even gained an understanding of how their printing presses work so that I can begin to replicate them as soon as we return to Highgarden."
As soon as her grandson finished speaking, Olenna promptly brought her fan up and smacked Willas atop his head. "Fool," she muttered as Willas rubbed at the spot she'd struck. "It is precisely because we achieved everything we set out to achieve that has me concerned. The wolves knew exactly what we wanted even before we arrived. And they all but gave it to us without us even having to really ask. Now think for a moment, Willas, use that mind that I know you have. Why would they do that? Why would they readily give away the secrets that have propelled the North from little more than barbarians to one of, if not the, most powerful region in Westeros in little less than ten years?"
Willlas turned his head and stared out the window as he thought on her question. "Because they no longer have a need to keep it to themselves. Meaning that they have new ways and methods of advancement that we have not yet seen."
"Exactly," Olenna nodded, thinking back to the strange exchange she took note of while the leader of the wolf pack was away from Winterfell. "While you lot were all making friends north of the Wall, I happened to notice something that I doubt wanted to be noticed. A group of men carrying a chest in a manner that screamed they did not want to be seen. It took more than a few coins, but I was eventually able to find a loose tongue or two and managed to learn that the men carrying the chest were surveyors and miners."
Willas blinked and rubbed at his chin. "Not unheard of, grandmother. We send surveyors and miners out all the time."
"That we do," she nodded. "But whatever they found was important, otherwise they wouldn't have brought it immediately to the only remaining person of station in Winterfell, Lady Nox. Copper, silver, iron? All these things could've waited until Stark returned from beyond the Wall. But no. Whatever they found was important enough that they brought it immediately to the Stewardess of Winterfell. To my upmost annoyance, I was unable to find any of the surveyors or miners again to try and learn what they'd found. And I'm not dumb enough to try and send someone to rummage through the chambers of wolves."
Again, Willas looked thoughtful. "Gold. Or something else of equal or greater value."
"Yes," Olenna nodded with a sigh. "Then there are the concerns with your betrothed as well."
Blinking, Willas snapped back to her. "What about Sansa?"
Reaching over to one of the compartments in the carriage, Olenna pulled out a brick of cheese and cut off a slice. "That girl may appear sweet and innocent. But I guarantee you, Willas, that she is anything but. Oh, don't make that face! I'm not saying she's anything like the women from Dorne that are looking to fuck anything with a cock that moves. No. Even at her age, she's already well learned in the game. Give her five more years of tutelage under the likes of Nox and his woman? She will become a player of the game on par with any in the realm. Even though she will carry the Tyrell name, make no mistake that that girl's allegiance will be to her pack first and foremost. At least until you put a babe in her and give her a pack of her own to look after, that is. Plus, lest we forget, but the Dornish princess managed to firmly grasp perhaps the strongest of the wolf pack by the cock and clearly has no intention of letting go anytime soon. And the fact that the Lannisters have now managed to get one of their own under the tutelage of the Sorcerer while we have not? So, tell me, Willas, do you think we truly managed to come out on top during this trip to the North?"
Willas went mercifully quiet after her tirade as he took in the full weight of her words. Leaning back in his seat, her grandson scratched behind his ear as he thought on where to go from here. "We will need to send out ravens to the Houses in the Reach informing them of my betrothal to Sansa Stark," Willas stated. "There will no doubt be some complaints, but mostly those will come from the Houses that aspired to seeing their daughter as the next Lady Tyrell. But the knowledge that we have the backing of the Starks will give us some breathing room. We will also need to send word to Loras. We need to get Margaery and Garlan to court, but not immediately. I have the same thought as you grandmother regarding the King and the Starks, and how King Robert no doubt hoped to betroth his son to Sansa. He might feel as if we've stolen his son's future bride from him. So, we should give him some time before we make our presence known at court."
"I agree," Olenna nodded, glad that her grandson had not inherited his father's fondness for being a fool. "But why Garlan and not yourself? It would be far better for the future Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South to forge relationships with the King and the Crown Prince, not to mention the rest of the court."
"No, at least not yet." Willas responded. "Even after the king gets over his initial disappointment about losing the Stark girl for his son, I believe it would be prudent of us if I avoid King's Landing for some time. At least until after my wedding has come to pass. The last thing we need is to stoke the King's anger at us over by bringing the one who 'stole' Sansa from him and his son. Also, I believe it would be prudent to send Garlan to King's Landing because he can give voice to what he saw north of the Wall regarding the…White Walkers."
Just hearing the name of the ancient mythical creatures made Olenna want to curse and spit. Even after hearing it directly from her grandson, who she knew not to be a fool, it was a hard concept to grasp. A creature of legend that nearly brought the realm of men to its knees, only to be beaten back in the Age of Heroes. And now, after eight thousand years without ever showing themselves, they were back. Why? Why now of all times? She could deal with the likes of Tywin Lannister, Jon Arryn, and Doran Martell. But the White Walkers? She wouldn't even know where to begin with those blasted creatures.
"That will be kept quiet for now," she said to her grandson. "Our position, while better than it was a month ago, is still precarious. If we go shouting that creatures long since thought to be but myths were back to kill us all, our bannermen will lose what little restraint they have left and decide that it is time for a new House to take rulership of the Reach. And seeing as how Stark and Nox haven't announced to the realm the return of these creatures, it is safe to say that they are of a similar mindset."
Willas nodded. "Yes. Until actual proof of these creatures can be presented before the realm, I doubt any would believe them to be real. But still, that doesn't mean we should just remain still. We can use what we've learned from the North to begin preparing. I've got a rough schematic of the blast furnace they use to mass produce their steel, as well as a drawing of their printing press. The only difficulty will be in procuring enough raw materials once both are up and going. I do believe that Archmaester Marwyn will be most interested in the printing press once we show him how it works. And we can also begin training our men at arms using the few drills that I noticed the Sorcerer put the Stark men at arms through daily."
Nodding along as her grandson continued to lay out what needed to be done upon their return, Olenna peered out the window at the slowly setting sun in the west. 'We accomplished all we wanted and more in the North. But for every one thing that went our way, two more problems rose to take their place. Yet, despite all we learned, there is still one thing that eludes even myself. And that is just what in the Seven hells the sorcerer's long-term goals are. Then there's also the snakes. Tywin's game is easy enough to predict. House Lannister is already in power, so he just has to work at keeping them there. But the Martells? The one who believes the likes of Doran and Oberyn are willing to do nothing about the death of Elia are bloody fools. They have a game afoot. One that clearly involves Jon Stark. But the only question is what is it?'
Walking through the makeshift camp that her countrymen had assembled just off the Kingsroad, Arianne Martell kept her sight set on one of the two large tents that'd been pitched not too far from her own. They'd managed to cover nearly half the distance between Winterfell and White Harbor, and it was only now that Arianne felt that they were not only alone enough, but that she was ready to have a conversation that she knew was going to be extremely hard. Stopping just outside the flaps of the tent, she glanced towards the two men of House Martell that'd been assigned to guard her for the day. "No one gets close enough to hear what is being said inside this tent until I leave. And I mean no one. Not even my cousins."
The two men nodded and took up their positions near the entrance to the tent, spears at the ready. Taking one last moment to steel herself, Arianne pushed open the tent flap and ducked inside. Giggling instantly reached her ears as she spotted her uncle with Lady Ellaria on his lap. "Ah, my beloved niece, unless you wish to stay for a show and learn a few tricks to show your wolf boy next time you see him, I would suggest that whatever you have to say can wait till the morning." Oberyn said as he tightened his hold on Ellaria while beginning to trail kisses up and down her neck.
Nearly sighing at her uncle's antics, Arianne put as much steel as she could into her voice. "What I have to say cannot wait any longer, uncle. And it is something that must be discussed between the two of us. In private. Lady Ellaria, please leave."
Her tone worked as Lady Ellaria, much to her uncle's surprise, immediately got up from her spot on his lap and left after giving her a quick curtsy. "Well," her uncle sighed as he got up and went over to pour himself a glass of wine. "Seeing as how you disrupted the pleasant evening I had planned, I guess we can talk. Drink?"
"No," she replied, waiting until Oberyn had retaken his seat with a drink in hand before pushing on with what she wanted to know. "I will ask this only once, uncle. How long have you known? And please, do not play dumb and ask what I'm asking about. You are not a fool, and neither am I. Tell me how long you and my father have known."
Her uncle took a slow drink, his usual smile slipping from his face. "How did you figure it out?"
"He told me," Arianne replied. "He would not have what is growing between us built on a lie. And he has the last words of his mother to back his claims. It wasn't difficult then to realize that you knew as well, considering how frequently you were encouraging my pursuit of a relationship with him. If you knew, that meant that my father knew as well."
"I see," her uncle nodded thoughtfully. "In truth, your father and I suspected this, but we were not entirely sure on the matter. We only had these suspicions after the treachery of the Maesters was revealed, and we discovered a raven's scroll from Elia in the Maester's chambers. It was written in a code known only to those of House Martell, so the Maester, may his soul rot in whatever hells awaited him, was unable to learn its contents. But in her last words to us, Elia beseeched your father and I to find her love and give her, and any offspring she might have, our protection."
So, they hadn't known before her first meeting with Jon. That made her feel…slightly better. That still didn't change the fact that her father and uncle knew the truth of Jon. And given how her uncle had been behaving towards her relationship with Jon, it wasn't a difficult task to assume their goal. "You and my father intended to use me as a honeypot to convince him to throw his name out there and go for what is technically his by birth. Plunging the entire realm into war."
Her uncle frowned. "Arianne, we did not intend to—"
"Then what is your intention, Uncle?" Arianne pressed. She knew her father and uncle better than perhaps anyone else alive. And she knew the people of her homeland. They still cried for vengeance and justice over the fate of Elia and her children. And Jon's true name coming forward, given the divides it would create, would give them the perfect chance to extract said vengeance. "Are you two going to let this slip into the wrong ear and force his hand? Because he has no intention of going for his birthright as he knows the pain and suffering it would bring to the land. And at a time where we can ill afford it if the stories you yourself brought back from north of the Wall are true."
Taking a step closer to her uncle, she pressed on, not giving him the chance to get a word in. "We may not have said the words, uncle. But I am theirs as they are mine. And I will do what is necessary to protect us from the threats that we cannot see. Even if those threats come from my own family."
Turning, she made to leave her uncle to his thoughts, only to pause at the tent flap. "One last thing, uncle. Which would Elia wish for you to do? To force the son of the woman she loved down a road he did not wish to travel for your own vengeance. Or to guide and protect the son of the woman she loved, as I am now committed to doing." Not bothering to hear her uncle's answer, Arianne moved the tent flap aside and marched out of her uncle's presence with her head held high.
Fingers idly tapping against the base of a chalice of wine, Queen Cersei Lannister watched down at the yard below her in disdain as she watched her oaf of a husband kneeling beside her youngest lion Tommen as he instructed the boy on how to properly hold a bow and draw it. Worse yet than the sickening display was the fact that several members of the court had decided that they'd had nothing better to do with their time and were instead watching her lion practice his archery. Including her own little lioness Myrcella, who was slightly blocked from view due to the parasail she was sitting under. Hearing everyone cheering and clapping, Cersei looked up to see Tommen jumping up and down as the fat oaf congratulated him, the arrow that'd been in his hand just moments before now still quivering slightly in the outermost ring of the target less than a dozen paces in front of them.
'Had Jamie actually been teaching Tommen, or if it was Joffrey down there, the arrow would've struck dead center.' Cersei thought with disgust as she watched Robert encourage Tommen to take up another arrow as he began guiding Tommen through his stances once more.
It was all just…sickening to watch. The only reason she stayed was to try and figure out how to get her children, her lion cubs, back from the fat grease and whore-stained hands of her husband. She wasn't sure how it happened, but after the incident with Joffrey and his pet, her two youngest lions had been drawn to Robert. Of course she'd heard the rumors of what caused Robert to go off like he had, that Joffrey killed Tommen's fawn, but that was certainly no reason for her children to start clinging to Robert, or for him to start taking an interest in them. Joffrey at least had the good sense to stay well clear of Robert. Her perfect lion was growing up quite nicely. He was strong. He did what was needed and he recognized that he was above everyone else. He would be an excellent king one day. With her of course by his side helping to guide him. Her other two children though…
Hearing another round of cheering, she saw that Tommen had managed to hit the target once again, this time a ring closer to the middle. Her youngest lion was starting to stay by Robert's side almost constantly, whenever he wasn't whoring of course. She was not about to allow her little cub to be subjected to witnessing or hearing that. This wasn't necessarily something new. Tommen, for some gods forsaken reason, always seemed drawn to Robert. But unlike in the past, Robert didn't simply brush him off. No. Now Robert was taking time out of his day to be with her son. It was like the fool truly believed he was her cub's father. The fool.
Then there was Myrcella. Her dear darling lioness…turned traitor. Her daughter almost seemed to be avoiding her as of late, though for what reason Cersei honestly had no idea. It had to be a rebellious phase. Yes. That had to be it. Both her and Jamie went through the same thing when they were her age and would frequently disobey the commands of their father, particularly by jumping into the Sunset Sea. But in time they both overcame their silly rebellious nature, and she was confident that Myrcella would as well. 'Though I will have to once again procure her new clothing once she comes back around,' Cersei thought, looking down in silent anger at the yellow and black dress Myrcella had chosen to wear today.
Her dresses as of late was another silly rebellious action her daughter took a little more than a moon's turn past. One morning Myrcella had risen and apparently ordered a new wardrobe. Not unheard of as that was her prerogative as a Princess, and an act that Cersei was glad to hear about as it meant that her daughter was finally coming to see that she was truly a Princess and could do whatever she wanted. But to Cersei's dismay, she learned all too late that her daughter had ordered all the wonderful red, crimson, and gold dresses she had to be removed and replaced by dresses that accented the colors of House Baratheon. Of course, as if that wasn't bad enough, her daughter then ordered that the dresses that were to be discarded were to be stripped of anything of value and given to a nearby orphanage. Orphans! Wearing her daughter's clothes! Then she requested that the valuables that'd been removed from the dresses be sold, and the coin made from their sale to be used to purchase food for those same blasted street urchins!
Her actions nearly made Cersei want to slap some sense into her foolish daughter again! Those dresses had been perfect! Made by the best seamstresses in King's Landing and in the colors of House Lannister! And her daughter gave them to filthy street urchins to wear! Just the mere thought of those future whores or beggars wearing the colors of her house made her want to order the guards to end those wretched creatures for good! But she couldn't do that. Not when Robert had been oh so pleased with Myrcella's actions. It was beyond sickening!
"Your grace."
Cersei nearly started at the voice calling to her. Silently cursing to herself, Cersei turned her attention away from the sickening display going on below her and focused on the only man that was able to move quieter than a mouse. Though calling him a 'man' was a stretch by anyone's definition. "Varys," she said flatly, greeting the cockless spy master.
Taking her greeting as an invitation, the eunuch calmly walked forward so that he was standing near to her next to the railing overlooking the training yard below. "I see his grace has decided to take the time to teach your children in the yard," Varys commented idly. Which made her want to scoff. Robert's teachings were about as useful as a scribe with no hands. "Though I only see your youngest amongst those in the yard."
Taking a sip of her wine, Cersei narrowed her eyes at the unspoken implication. "My eldest, the crown prince, has much better things to do with his time than spend them in the yard performing what should be the Master of Arms duties."
In truth, the absence of her eldest troubled her slightly. Not his absence from the yard of course. But the fact that Joffrey had been seemingly wandering off on his own every so often concerned her. The guards she questioned all told her that he was merely surveying the city and learning of the people he would one day rule. And even Joffrey attested to the same when asked. But he only ever went out on these ventures when he wasn't being guarded by the Hound or a member of the Kingsgaurd. 'I will need to replace those guards. Something is going on, and I need to know what.'
"Very true, your grace. The duties of the royal family are indeed numerous and time consuming. And delegation is the key to making sure that everything is done properly."
Scoffing, Cersei set her wine down on the railing. "You have something to tell me, eunuch. Say it and leave."
"Nothing truly secretive, your grace. Just the latest news from the North that will certainly be making the rounds soon enough and causing no shortages of gossiping." Varys replied with a simple shrug. "Your brother and uncle have left Winterfell along with the Tyrells and the Martells. And all of them left with something of value. Your niece, Joy, is now under the tutelage of the Sorcerer alongside Lady Shireen and the other Stark children. The Martells left with a new trade agreement with the North, and if one believes the rumors that are spreading of a possible match between Princess Arianne and the former bastard Jon Stark. And the Tyrells managed to secure a betrothal between the eldest Stark girl, Sansa, and Willas Tyrell. While each House did indeed come away with something of value, one cannot help but think that the Starks will soon be the premier House in Westeros, if they are not already. Not truly surprising now considering the eldest Stark girl will be the next Lady of Highgarden, the bastard boy potentially becoming the next Prince Consort of Dorne and that the Starks are fostering daughters from both House Lannister and House Baratheon. And if rumors are to be believed, there is a relationship forming between the heir of the North, Robb Stark, and a foreign girl named Talisa Maegyr, who just so happens to be the daughter of one of the Triarchs of Volantis."
Cersei immediately wanted to brush off the web that the Spider was spinning. But those last words of his struck a chord within Cersei and made her hold her tongue. She honestly did not care one wit about those northern savages or who they decided to breed with. But when they're plot was laid out like this, it was concerning. And what was worse, there was a good chance the fools didn't even realize they were being used.
The Tyrells were always power-seeking flowers, clinging to whatever or whoever they could to try and rise to greater prominence, never truly understanding their true place as they thought themselves rivals to House Lannister. And the Starks, however galling it was to admit, were rising in prominence as of late. So, it was no surprise that they would seek to attach themselves to the barbarians from the North. The Martells were just a bunch of whores who thought themselves important. And, even though she would never admit it aloud, there was something attractive about the Stark bastard. So, it wasn't really a surprise she supposed that the Dornish whore sought his bed. If those two connections were tied, then the wolves would have leverage in both the Reach and Dorne.
And on top of those two connections, her father had sent Joy to Winterfell as well. Granted, the bastard girl had managed to somehow impress the sorcerer to the point where he apparently decided to teach her his magic. Or perhaps not. Mayhap he was just keeping the bastard around to try and gain leverage on House Lannister. And the Starks already had leverage on the Baratheons, even before Stannis sent his little sniveling daughter to the North.
But as she thought on the situation more, she realized it was worse than what even the eunuch had laid out. For the wolves had blood ties to the Tullys through the dead fish Catelyn Tully, blood that Robb Stark carried in his veins. The old fool Arryn had raised Stark as his foster son. Should the ties with the Reach and Dorne be confirmed…then the Starks would essentially have leverage with every great House in Westeros! And if the heir to Winterfell managed to sway this Volantis girl into his bed and marry her…they could have assistance from Volantis if they called for it! By the gods…they would be able to take the throne away from her! Away from who it truly belonged to! And, worst of all, no one seemed to be doing anything to stop them!
"Of course, I'm sure that his grace will be devastated."
Shaking her head, Cersei glared at the eunuch out of the corner of her eye. Setting aside her wine glass, Cersei did all she could to prevent her hand from shaking as the revelation as to how close those fucking wolves and their pet sorcerer were to stealing what was rightfully hers! "And why is that?"
Varys gave her that same condescending smirk that screamed that he knew something that she didn't. It was a look that made her want to take a knife to him every time she saw it. "Surely you know the mind of his grace better than any, my Queen. He had hopes of securing the eldest Stark girl for the Crown Prince. Fulfilling the betrothal that'd been long since denied to him and finally putting a Stark near to the Iron Throne after centuries of the Targaryens ignoring their own Pact that'd been made with the wolves."
This time Cersei nearly did scream. Five-and-ten years, and that cold dead wolf bitch was still ruining everything! If she could, she would've made even the mentioning of that bitch's name be punishable by death! And now her ghost was looking to steal her son! Her perfect lion! 'But it doesn't matter now,' Cersei tried to reason with herself. 'The Stark girl is now betrothed to the lame Willas Tyrell. About what the wolves deserve, to be saddled with a lamed husband. But Stark still has another daughter…I need to make sure that Robert doesn't get any ideas in his head about trying to give a second daughter the honor of being married to my son. Joffrey deserves only the best, not some heathenistic barbarian whore. Ideally, he would have Myrcella, just as Jaime and I have each other. But Robert won't stand for it, it would remind him too much of the Targaryens. But there is no other woman other than a pure lion that is good enough for my son.'
"Yes, a true shame." Cersei responded, keeping her voice as calm as possible. "Are there any other songs your little birds have sung as of late?"
"None of true note, your grace," Varys responded.
"Very well then," Cersei nodded. "Then sing your songs to the king and leave me."
Varys either didn't notice or care about her tone. And given what she knew of the man, it was more than likely the latter. "As you wish. I wish you a pleasant day, your grace," the eunuch said, folding his hands before his large stomach and giving her a bow before waddling off to do whatever it was he did.
The moment she was alone, Cersei turned on her heel and hurled her wine glass against the walls of the Red Keep. Seething in rage, she watched the glass shatter into uncountable pieces. 'Those fucking wolves! They're trying to take what is mine! Mine! The throne is mine! Not hers! Mine!' Breathing heavily, Cersei began pacing back and forth on the balcony, the going's on below her all but dismissed as she tried to figure out what to do about the fucking wolves from the North. Because something needed to be done. And soon. She would not allow that fucking frog-sucking-whore to be right! She would not be thrown down. Not now. Not ever!
Feeling the carriage beneath her rock violently, Daenerys Targaryen was abruptly pulled from the world of dreams as the back of her knocked against the hard wooden wood of the bench she'd been rested upon. Groggily rubbing at the back of her head while trying to banish the last of her sleep from her eyes, Dany slowly sat up and turned her head to gaze at her surroundings. Her brother was sitting not far from where she was, looking highly uncomfortable and affronted as he stared resolutely at the surroundings, and not at the contents of the trade wagon they'd managed to find that was willing to give them a ride for at time at least. 'Or more correctly, the trade wagon that I managed to convince to let us ride by offering him and his family a substantial amount of coin after my dear brother insulted the man when he told us the original price of a ride.'
"Finally awake, Dany," her brother stated flatly, not asked. Stated.
"Yes," Dany nodded, turning her head slightly to gaze out over the rolling flatlands of Essos as the wagon slowly made its way down the well-traveled road, each bump in the road causing her to jump slightly and putting one more ache in her back. 'Jon has made mention of a new type of…metal coil that the Sorcerer Nox created that is supposed to help reduce the rocking of a wagon as it travels down a road. A spring I think he called it. If it works as well as Jon says it does, I cannot wait for these marvelous coils to reach Essos and make riding in a wagon slightly more comfortable.'
"You've been sleeping far too often, Dany. It's not right for one of your station. And you best start changing your ways quickly before we arrive at our destination. Last thing we need is for your weakness to be so on display before those who are willing to help us reclaim what is rightfully mine."
Dany wanted to scoff at her brother. Just about everything he'd just said had been wrong. She hadn't been sleeping as of late, she'd been meditating and learning everything she could about her newfound power under Jon's tutelage. Ever since the first practical application of her powers when she managed to fend off several fully grown men many times her own size, she'd become almost obsessed with learning all she could from Jon. And as Jon had told her she would, she was truly starting to see a clear distinction between what he called the 'light' and 'dark' sides of the Force. And this distinction always occurred pending on her state of mind when she used her powers. When she was calm and without emotion when she used the Force, it almost felt as if she were drifting through a warm water stream with the sun on her face and nothing but the sounds of the wilds around her. It was peaceful, serene, beautiful. But when she used her powers while angry or fearful…she did not feel that. She felt…something strange. Her heart would race, excitement would course through her faster than a raging waterfall. And she felt the need to dominate. To control. But at the same time, she felt…cold. It was such an odd sensation, wielding each side of the Force. Each one was powerful in its own way, there was no question.
As for her brother's statement of her being weak, while she was perhaps not as strong physically as her brother or most others, she was not weak. Not anymore. Even though her brother did not know it, she had already saved the two of them from no less than two attacks by using her powers to either simply make their attackers leave, or she used her powers to make sure they couldn't do anything against the two of them. She hadn't killed anyone yet. At least she didn't think she had. She'd come close once or twice. But when the moment came to end her attacker's life she just… She couldn't do it. And it was in those moments, where she hesitated to take a life that she felt like she was still the weak little girl she was before she'd learned about her powers. She'd told Jon the same, and he'd given her some words of encouragement. He told her that it was not a weakness because she hesitated to take a life. He himself had taken several lives, and he told her that he never enjoyed it once. And he also reiterated that that was precisely why there was no Lord's Justices in the North. The decision to end a life should never be easy.
And the last part of her brother's statement that she found false was the fact that he truly believed that they would find aid and be able to retake the Seven Kingdoms with him as King when they arrived at wherever they were going, which he still refused to tell her. She'd learned that taking back the Seven Kingdoms for the Targaryens was but a dream. A sweet dream perhaps, but a dream nonetheless. The people did not bemoan the loss of the dragons as their monarchs. Lords and Ladies did not raise secret toasts to their health and wishes for their return. Her and her brother were little more than the lost scions of a House that had long lost the right to rule the Seven Kingdoms after all the harm they had caused. But there was no use in telling her brother this. He still held firm in his convictions that he would one day be seated upon the Iron Throne. A dream. Nothing more.
"Yes, brother," Dany nodded, slipping back into her 'weak' persona she put in front of all others besides Jon. Part of her felt guilty about hiding what she could do from her brother. But honestly, she didn't feel like he deserved to know what she could do. Not yet. "Perhaps brother, if you could tell me where we are heading, I can better prepare myself for what is to come?"
Viserys twisted his head around, no doubt making sure that the family they were traveling with were not paying attention to what they were saying. "I received word of a man willing to help us reclaim that which is rightfully ours. He's invited us to his manor to stay and plan our return, and he's even started making overtures to potential allies that will fight for what is mine."
Dany only just barely managed to resist the urge to roll her eyes at her brother's response. It was the same response he gave every time she'd asked them since they started out on this new path. "And what is his name, brother?"
Her brother refused to answer her again, something which before she would've just accepted. But now it did little more than annoy her at the fact that her brother was refusing to tell her what he knew. Taking a calming breath, Dany decided to try a trick Jon had just recently taught her. Picturing the Force like a bubble of soap, Dany enlarged the invisible bubble until she could tell that it covered both herself and her brother. If this worked like Jon explained, then her and her brother's voices would be basically inaudible to those outside the bubble. Somehow. With that in place, Dany then discreetly moved her right hand quickly through the air while focusing her powers on her brother, "Viserys. Who is offering to take us in and aid us in retaking our family's ancestral seat? And how did you come to know of him?"
She truly did not like using her powers on her brother like this. But she knew her brother well enough that if she wanted a true answer to her question, that this was the only way to receive it. As soon as the question left her lips and her power reached him, Viserys blinked as a dazed look entered his eyes. "His name is Illyrio Mopatis. A magister in Pentos. And he reached out to me with an offer, saying he would put us up at his manor in Pentos for as long as was needed for us to obtain the army I need to retake the Iron Throne from the Usurper."
"And what was his price?" Dany asked, putting just a touch more power into her voice. She wasn't a fool. Her and her brother had next to nothing to their name besides the name itself. There were only two things Viserys could offer anyone willing to help them. A position of high status in Westeros if he managed to succeed. Or his or her own hand in marriage.
"The position of Master of Coin under my rulership." Viserys answered blankly, making Dany breathe slightly easier as she knew that her brother hadn't sold her off. Yet. And if she had her way, Viserys would never sell her off to the one who could provide him with the largest army. But she knew that, despite her growing power, choosing her own fate was outside of her control. For now, at least.