A Dragon Kissed by Sun Chapter 56 (The Cannibal) (Patreon)

Daenerys

Her footsteps were light against the wooden floor of the ship as she walked towards her chamber as if she was trying to walk unnoticed, almost like a cat slowly approaching a mouse. She didn't want the guard, Quvy, to see her walking to Kinvara's chamber. The guard didn't say as much as a word to any of them; now that she remembered, Daenerys couldn't remember him ever speaking or sleeping, but his pale skin like milk and fractured jaw frightened her, his smile appeared crooked, a helmet always covering his head, Daenerys wondered if the guard was hiding something, but she didn't want to be found by him alone at Night.

Daenerys felt her heart beating in her throat the closer she was to Kinvara's chamber. Was it excitement? She wasn't sure, but it made her body shudder; she almost felt like a little girl.

Since she remembered herself, it had been only her and Viserys, always running away from the cutthroats sent by Robert Baratheon and his Stark dog. They always ran away. Daenerys remembered her brave old knight; he had been kind to her, but the sickness took him, and she was forced to leave the House with the Red Door and Lemon Tree outside.

Dany wished nothing more; the House with the Red Door was all she ever wanted; she wasn't like Viserys; she didn't dream of Westeros, of taking back what belonged to them. Viserys had told her stories of the place, but to her, they were naught but stories, a place full of strangers. A part of her wondered if she should walk away and return to her chambers if it would be better to avoid Kinvara.

Her promises of them reclaiming what they had lost sounded sweet. Too sweet, Daenerys told herself. Everyone had a price, something they wanted in return; Dany had learned that; she could still feel the itch in her feet from that day. Dany doubted Kinvara was doing all this out of the goodness of her heart.

As Dany, her heart pounding, cautiously came to a halt in front of the wooden door of the Red Priestess, she couldn't help but notice the beauty of the intricate carving adorning its surface. A mesmerizing depiction of a brilliantly aflame heart embellished the door. Dany's trembling hand slowly ascended, mirroring the movement of a delicate leaf quivering in the wind, but she grasped her hand. It was no longer shaking. Her knuckles almost touched the surface, but Dany hesitated.

Dany remembered the way Kinvara had looked at her; her gaze alone had made her feel weak but safe and warm. Dany felt safe in the boat; the cutthroats couldn't reach them as long as they were in the boat.

We need to learn more about her, Dany told herself, knowing they couldn't learn more if they didn't try to get to know her. Daenerys wanted to know more about her, to know more about the woman who had saved them from the streets, who was feeding them, giving them warm clothes, keeping them safe, and promising them power and what they had lost.

Daenerys had graciously requested Missandei to assist her. Missandei brushed Daenerys's long, silver-gold tresses, delicately untangling any knots or tangles. The comforting touch of the brush against her scalp was a brief respite from the weighty responsibilities that rested upon her shoulders.

Having entrusted Missandei with the task, a warm bath was prepared, with fragrant oils and scented petals delicately floating atop the water's surface. As the flickering candles cast a soft glow around the room, Daenerys submerged herself into the soothing embrace of the bath, closing her eyes and allowing the tensions of the day to dissolve away.

Emerging from the bath, Daenerys reached for a plush towel, her skin glistening with water droplets cascading down her supple body. She carefully dried herself, ensuring that every inch was attended to.

Once her body was dry and refreshed, Daenerys meticulously selected her attire for her meeting with Kinvara. Her keen eye fell upon a stunning dark dress adorned with intricate red straps and elegant red sleeves. A small cut strategically graced the garment, subtly revealing the graceful curve of her collarbone.

As Daenerys allowed Missandei to continue her unwavering support, her loyal handmaiden deftly braided her hair into an intricately woven style known as the Braavos braid. The interlacing strands formed an exquisite pattern, symbolizing both strength and femininity.

We need to know more about her; that's what Dany told herself as she finally knocked on the door three times; the sound echoed in the corridor like a bell, reaching every part.

She heard footsteps approaching the door from the other side until it was opened by Kinvara, who had a very pleased look on her face, a beautiful smile across her flawless face, her red eyes almost glittering, as did the ruby around her neck, Dany suddenly felt frozen as Knivara curled her fingers, inviting her inside.

Daenerys walked inside without saying anything; she didn't believe she could say anything right now; she walked past the Priestess and to the center of the bedchamber; she heard the door close behind her. Dany felt the sudden heat that the chamber seemed to have; she could feel it in her skin like flames dancing on her skin.

Daenerys glanced furtively around the luxurious chamber; she had never been fortunate enough to ever be present in a chamber bathed in warmth; the rug tickled her feet; it felt like walking in clouds.

Flames gracefully swirled and flickered atop the Fire Handler—an elongated metal tube resembling a veritable work of art in the form of an immense iron flower blooming at its peak. This magnificent spectacle illuminated the chamber, casting an enchanting glow that far surpassed the luminosity of any ordinary candle. As the fire nestled within the apparatus emitted its radiance, an intriguing aroma tantalized her senses; an unfamiliar yet enticing fragrance permeated the air. Unlike the typical orange, the flames exuded a vivid crimson shade reminiscent of blood, occasionally revealing glimpses of an unexpected emerald green hue amidst their fiery depths.

The fire danced, its long arms reaching out to her, casting mesmerizing shadows across the room. Though tempted to stare into its flickering depths, Daenerys resolutely turned her gaze away before the flames could consume her. A single book lay on a well-crafted table, its spine carefully aligned with the edge.

As Daenerys continued to avert her eyes, she found herself captivated by the three beautiful tapestries adorning the surrounding walls, each telling a unique story. The first tapestry portrayed a vivid depiction of a mighty fire consuming an entire city. Shades of orange, red, and yellow danced together, almost making the flames come alive within the woven threads.

The second tapestry portrayed three Red Priestesses, draped in flowing crimson garbs, bowed before a bonfire of immense proportions. Its flames leaped towards the sky, painting the entire sky a mesmerizing shade of crimson.

The last tapestry showed a Red Priestess on top of a man - sharing a kiss, their privates against one another, the red ruby around her neck glittering like a red star.

Daenerys looked away, and her eyes fell on Kinvara, who this whole time had been quiet and was watching her; the smile lingered on her beautiful face. Dany felt her breath quicken as the heat around the chamber intensified. It felt like a warm hug that Daenerys didn't want to end.

"W-why did you call for me, my lady?" The Red Priestess intrigued her, and it felt good to be in her presence, but could she really trust someone like her? Viserys had warned her of them.

'They burn people for their God,' he had told her.

"To talk." The words rolled out her tongue, sweet like honey, red eyes always looking at Daenerys. "Do you know how we found you, my Princess?"

Daenerys shook her head instead of talking; the words refused to come out of her mouth.

"Lord R'hllor sent me visions in the flames, my Princess. I do what my Lord tells me to do." Kinvara answered her as she made circles around Daenerys. "You and your brother were alone, and without protection. Lord R'hllor would have never wanted the last Targaryens to die." She answered, stopping behind Daenerys, her long slender fingers grasping silver hair, soft like silk, beautiful like gold.

Why didn't your god send you visions sooner? Daenerys wanted to ask if only they had been saved sooner; they would still have their mother's crown and her rings; Daenerys would still have Ser Darry, the kind old Kingsguard who always told her beautiful tales and protected them both.

All they had felt for years during their run from city to city, Daenerys could still feel the dirt under her hands, the hunger. Her brother wouldn't have been laughed at by the Golden Company, calling him the 'The Beggar King.'

Her hands trembled with anger. She thought of the man who had laughed at them, his golden armor almost mocking them, but Daenerys thought of the Dragon she had seen, his dark scales, but this time, she imagined the Dragon bathing the man in flames for laughing to Targaryens, his laughter turning to screams.

"Lord R'hllor sent me visions when it was needed, my Princess. I regret what you two endured, but you are under the protection of the Red Faith. You are Safe." Kinvara said regretfully, right to her ear. Daenerys blinked twice; she didn't recall her being so close to her, her hand resting on her bare shoulder, warm and soft, like touching flames.

"Under protection? How did your god know we wouldn't have starved?" She didn't wait for an answer. "A cutthroat was all that was needed? We didn't have anyone to protect us." Daenerys didn't know where the anger came from or why she was unleashing her anger on Kinvara, but her words that her Lord had watched over them irked her; she remembered the restless Night, the nights they slept with empty bellies. Why did her Lord allow all that to happen?

"Lord R'hllor is the one that gives us visions, my Princess. You remember the nights you were hungry, but don't forget the Night that you survived; the Stag King had wanted you both dead since you were born; the cutthroats never found you and your brother. You two were alone, but somehow the cutthroats never found you. Perhaps he always watched over you both in silence." Kinvara's words didn't convince Daenerys; her words sounded comforting and sweet, but Daenerys felt bitter and reminded herself of something that her brother always told her.

Targaryens are Gods amongst Men; the words made her glance back at Kinvara. Can she read my thoughts? Daenerys wondered as Kinvara's soft hand reached out, a finger under Dany's chin; this gesture made her look up at Kinvara's red eyes, looking back at her, almost like a hunter who had just found her meal. Daenerys shuddered, her knees suddenly weak, as she breathed heavily. Kinvara was a head taller than her.

Her touch? Daenerys asked herself; her every touch felt good and gentle, like a warm blanket that protected her. Is this what a lover feels like? Daenerys wondered. She knew nothing about love, kisses, and other romantic stuff.

She remembered Ser Darry's tales to her; he would sit in his wooden chair, close enough that Daenerys could hug him from her bed; his hugs always made her feel safe. He used to tell her tales of a great knight who saved his Princess from a Sea Dragon. Another one of a man who fell in love with 'The White Beauty' as the tale called her, not even a name, but the man had saved her, and had fallen in love, both sharing a kiss. Daenerys remembered the old knight kissing her forehead before wishing her good Night and not leaving the chamber without telling her she was safe.

"My Princess, you might not believe in R'hllor, but that dragon is your destiny," Kinvara said, pulling away her finger from her chin. Daenerys almost sighed in disappointment; her legs moved on their own, taking a step closer toward Kinvara, the heat she felt. It felt good.

"Why is that Dragon my destiny? Viserys is the Heir." Daenerys quickly denied it with a sharp voice like Valyrian Steel; she wondered where that voice came from; it seemed Kinvara was pleased with her question. An adoring smile forming on her beautiful face, she reached out, grasping Daenerys's hand, her hands bigger than hers, engulfing her delicate hand.

Her hand felt Good; Daenerys gripped her hand tightly before she realized what she had done, something that seemed to please Kinvara, who walked her to the Fire Handler.

Daenerys could feel the heat of the flames on her face as she stopped at the foot of the Fire Handler. Kinvara looked at the flames; Daenerys watched as Kinvara said something in a foreign language that Daenerys didn't understand; once she spoke her words, the fire came alive, brighter, and stronger; for a moment, Daenerys thought it would reach the ceiling. And burn the ship, but the fire subdued, but the heat increased.

"Our Lord gives us visions from the flames; it tells us what we need to know for the future of this world," Kinvara told her, and for the first time, her voice sounded solemn, no longer soft, her red eyes looking at the flames, the flames reflecting on her red eyes.

"I don't believe in such things. People might believe in Gods, old gods, seven stars, but if the gods are 'just' they would have never taken away my muna." Daenerys said, her voice sounding choked at the end. She bit her lower lip, her eyes filling with tears as she tried to keep them from spilling.

She couldn't remember her. Viserys told her that she died giving birth to her in the biggest storm known to Westeros History. Daenerys would often ask Viserys to describe how their family looked like. Daenerys used to dream of them all being together, but she couldn't imagine them if she didn't know what they looked like.

Viserys had described their mother as the most beautiful and smart woman in the world, with a gentle face, long silver hair that could glitter from the sun.

Daenerys used to kiss her mother's ring when she had been young, sometimes talking to it, pretending it was her mother, but when they sold it. Daenerys had understood that her mother, the woman she had never known, was truly gone. Viserys was her only thing left in this unfair world.

Rhaegar Targaryen, the big brother she had never known, Viserys always described him differently; with their mother, her brother would always speak of her with love; for Rhaegar, he spoke of him with pride and longing. Viserys spoke of him as the most handsome prince that ever lived in Westeros, telling her how smart he was and how his singing voice was so perfect that it could make maidens cry.

He would talk about Rhaegar long into the Night, sometimes Viserys would keep talking about Rhaegar even after Daenerys had fallen asleep; more than once, Daenerys had woke up during the Night, and hearing Viserys still talking about Rhaegar until she told him they needed to sleep.

But just like every great man, Rhaegar was seduced by Lyanna Stark and killed by Robert Baratheon and his Stark dog. The Hammer had smashed his chest in, his rubies flying into the air like red tears.

Viserys was always hesitant when talking about their father, saying he had been sick. He hadn't seen him much, but he would say that their father was just and fair to Westeros until the very bitter end.

"Wars are part of life, my Princess. War, sold in slavery — " Kinvara's words choked in her throat, her mouth left open; she seemed like she wanted to say something more but ultimately closed her mouth. Daenerys saw a small glimpse of anger in her eyes, but it had disappeared like a puff of smoke.

"People are not 'just' my Princess. Westeros is a pit of snakes; for every head you cut, two more will appear to take the place, and the two new ones will tell sweet lies to gain what they want. Aegon, The Conqueror, took Westeros by strength with his two sister wives, but tragedy happened: Rhaenys fell, a lucky bolt was all it took, and Aegon and Visenya never were the same. If you want to take back what you lost and to keep yourself and your brother safe, you need power." Kinvara's eyes looked at her; her eyes glittered like gems.

I need power, Daenerys thought, looking away; she didn't understand why Kinvara wasn't talking with Viserys. He was the heir, not her; he would be the one to sit on the Iron Throne one day; it belonged to him. Daenerys knew she would marry Viserys one day, but even then, she would be a Queen. She wasn't like Visenya; she wasn't a swordswoman or a dragonrider.

Daenerys didn't know how to use a knife; she had never held one in her hands. Daenerys didn't feel ready and didn't feel like she could ever have power. How can I have power? Daenerys wondered; she had no dragons, didn't have an actual education, and had learned how to write and read from Ser Darry and Viserys.

But Daenerys remembered what Kinvara promised her. Protect yourself and Viserys. Daenerys repeated the words; they felt sweet before looking back at Kinvara, her soft hand still holding Daenerys's hand.

"How can I gain power?" Daenerys asked with a hushed voice. Kinvara smiled in satisfaction and triumph before cupping her right cheek with her hand. Daenerys's breath hitched as warmth spread in her head, making her feel dizzy, a warmth that made her feel safe; she leaned her face against the hand, almost wanting to sleep. It felt so Good.

But Daenerys felt her head being turned to face the flames. Kinvara's lips brushed against her ear, and a delicious shiver went through Daenerys. She felt helpless in Kinvara's company, and she wasn't sure if that was a bad thing.

"Look at the flames, my Princess," Kinvara said; her soft and sweet voice made Daenerys almost moan from pleasure, but she listened to her, her eyes looking at the flames dancing before her face.

Suddenly, the flames started taking shape; she saw a green field turning red with blood, crows and worms feasting on bodies, screaming men as crows pecked out their eyes, the golden Lion of House Lannister standing proudly above all, the Dragon of House Targaryen on the ground.

' A deafening roar echoed through the darkness. It was a large black dragon, its eyes glowing like embers in the Night. Without any warning, it breathed fire.

Despite feeling terrified and intimidated by the gigantic creature, Dany bravely stood her ground and didn't allow herself to back away. The Dragon's wingspan was so wide that it almost blocked out the moon and stars, casting an ominous shadow over the ground below. As the Dragon landed in front of her, the ground shook violently, causing Dany to stumble and almost fall.

The moonlight reflected off the Dragon's scales, creating a glittering and mesmerizing effect that left Dany completely mesmerized.

The Dragon startled her as every animal, big or small, scampered away in a frenzy. The birds, who were perched on the treetops, took flight in unison, creating a symphony of flapping wings that echoed through the woods. However, amidst the chaos, her gaze fell upon the Dragon, who stood tall and proud with emerald eyes that glimmered like Wildfire in the darkness.

Daenerys felt a warm, familiar breath on her body. As he leaned his massive head closer, Daenerys could feel the heat emanating from his nostrils, and she closed her eyes, savoring the moment. Despite the darkness of the Night, Dany could see the outline of his enormous body, illuminated by the moonlight. He was as large as a castle, with razor-sharp claws and majestic wings that spanned two ships' length.

As Dany looked at the fierce Dragon before her, she couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and amazement. With a bright smile on her face, she called out to him, using the name "Cannibal."

Jaehaerys

Another night, another feast. He had been in feasts for as long as he could remember, and this one wasn't different. A different castle, the same feasts. At a time like this, Jae wished he could sneak outside and be somewhere else, but his father had decided that all of them were needed at this feast. Jae wasn't sure why. This feast seemed like any other feast; he had wanted to ask his father, but he had been quiet the whole day; for someone who loved talking and playing word games, Jae knew something must have happened.

He had asked Nymeria, but his elder sister told him the same the others told him. Their father was angry and would refuse to tell anyone why; at this time, Jae knew his father wasn't one to break under pressure, so asking would only make it worse.

Obara had suggested asking their mother, Ellaria, but she too was quiet and refused to tell them what was happening; at this moment, Jae wished he could be somewhere else but the damn feast. The Great Hall of Winterfell was hazy with smoke and heavy with the smell of cooked meat, boar, and deer; high in the hall, Jae could hear the sound of the fire roaring in the fireplace and the drunken conversations between soldiers and knights, all of them sitting at the end of the hall.

Jae watched — Ser Rodrik, that was his name, he seemed deep into his cups, muttering something with a few dornish and northern soldiers, Jae couldn't hear their drunken conversations, but he saw the laughter, one slapping his hands on the table. His mouth wide as he laughed, a plate fell, shattering on the floor.

Jae glanced at Arya; the little Stark girl seemed to be fighting with her food rather than eating it; the poor freshly cooked meat on her plate was suffering her wrath, holes all over its surface made by a fork. Too much like Nymeria, Jae thought with a grin; he had been too young to remember, but his elder sister was by far the wildest of them; even Obara, with her rough features, couldn't compare with Nymeria.

Sansa Stark was talking with two other girls; they often giggled with one another; she seemed like a girl drunk in fairy tales who saw the South as this beautiful place with ladies and knights who saved the maidens, where no bad things happened. Jae hadn't exchanged words with her; in her eyes, he was still a bastard of House Martell.

But Arianne had told them. Lady Catelyn had invited Arianne to spend time with Lady Sansa and two of her friends; Jae couldn't remember the names and didn't care to remember them.

When Arianne had arrived with Nymeria and Tyene, Sansa had mistaken the two ladies as Arianne's sisters, but when they introduced themselves with their full names, Arianne said that Lady Sansa had stiffened and instead had looked at them with her mouth open, like a fish out of water. Jae wished he had been there to laugh; his sisters weren't ones to care what others called them, except Obara; she hated everything that sounded even close to an insult to herself and her family.

Jae jolted out of his thoughts when something rubbed against his lap under the table; he saw red eyes looking at him, his tongue sticking out, before nuzzling his knee.

"Hungry?" Jae asked before his eyes fell on his own plate. The hunger had left him two hours ago when he had eaten a chicken whole with Ghost. But his friend seemed still hungry.

"Here Ghost." Jae turned his head. Arianne gave Ghost a roasted chicken wing; the dire wolf bit it from her hand, his mouth like a pit; he barely chewed on it before gulping it down.

Arianne giggled as Ghost gently napped her fingers before turning to look at Jae, his mouth still open.

"We have spoiled him," Jae murmured with a smile; he looked around; no one was paying attention to him; he grabbed the whole plate and let the food slide under the table. Ghost ate everything with vigor, soon joined by Spring, the red dire wolf joined, and Ghost didn't try to stop her.

"What's wrong with Uncle Oberyn, Jae?" Arianne asked him with a hushed voice. Jae followed her gaze and watched his father drinking; he sat on his chair like a man who was already half drunk; he stunk of alcohol, his lower jaw glittering with red and yellow from the wine and beer; he was on his way to drinking another jug, Ellaria was looking at him with concern, while Ser Arthur tried but failed to take the jug from his hand.

"I don't know, but I will bring him to his chamber if he gets too drunk," Jae said. He didn't want his father to humiliate himself, and in the Great Hall of Winterfell, he didn't want northerners to think of his father as a drunken man who couldn't control himself. That place belonged to the King.

Soon, Jae and Arianne stopped paying attention to Oberyn. Instead, Arianne discussed with him about talking with Lady Dacey and Lady Maege.

"House Mormont is a respected House of the North. When your uncle announces that The North will support you, it's better if they know you; not all soldiers are willing to fight for a cause they don't care about; they all want to return to their homes and families. If they believe that fighting for you is worth it. They will give their hearts for you." Jae looked at her; a beautiful smile adored her face; her beautiful white teeth and full lips made him want to lean forward and kiss them, but he restrained himself and raised an eyebrow. Jae was intrigued.

"I might, I already know Lady Dacey. I fought her at the Training Yard. I think she's eager to know all of me." Jae said with a deep voice, smiling; Arianne giggled, slapping him playfully on the shoulder. Jae saw her looking around the hall before quietly pushing her own chair closer to his.

"I think you should visit the Wall too," Arianne suddenly told him, taking him by surprise; he didn't understand why he would want to go to the Wall, a place of rapists and thieves.

"Why? There's nothing there worth seeing, unless you want to see the Wall itself."

"I know, but the Wall is respected in the North, many lords of the North still respect those that serve the Wall, but I heard whispers. The Wall is in pretty bad shape. I think you should gift them gold coins. Soon enough, everyone in the North will hear of your good deed, which will convince the Lords to support you when the time comes, they will believe supporting you will do The North good." Arianne said, her voice changing, sounding serious, something Jae didn't remember ever hearing for as long as he remembered. Arianne always loved to tease everyone, especially him, so hearing her talk with that tone caught him by surprise.

Jae showed that he agreed with her with a nod of his head. They kept discussing other ways to gain support in the North and South; Arianne proposed that he should find an excuse to visit Driftmark when they returned to the South. Jae remembered about House Velaryon; they had kneeled to House Baratheon, but Arianne was quick to convince him that they might have a change of heart if they knew that Rhaegar had another Trueborn son and that he had a Dragon.

They discussed plans for over an hour and plans for Westeros. Almost like a King and a Queen, the feast was long forgotten, and they happily discussed whatever they wanted; their words were drowned from the sound of the clangor of pewter plates and cups and the sound of drunken people discussing, occasionally a fight would start, but Lord Stark was quick to order them to be forced outside by the guards.

Their discussion didn't end until the second part of the feast started, and more food was brought.

The soup was made with eggs and lemons, the long green peppers stuffed with cheese and onions. There were lamprey pies, capons glazed with honey, and a whisker fish from the bottom of the Greenblood that was so big it took four serving men to carry it to the table. After that came a savory snake stew, chunks of seven different sorts of snake slow-simmered with dragon peppers, blood oranges, and a dash of venom to give it a good bite. Jae knew the stew was fiery hot, though he tasted none of it. Sherbet followed to cool the tongue. For the sweet, each guest was served a skull of spun sugar. When the crust was broken, they found sweet custard inside and bits of plum and cherry.

Great loaves, mounds, immense hams, and whole wheels of cheese are on the table at a feast.

Jae and Arianne ate together, and it felt good that no one was paying attention to them.

After eating crabs, they were served fish baked with lemons, mashed potatoes, and wine; from the sweets, the lower part was offered only apple pies, not that Jae and Arianne complained.

Jae felt his mouth bursting with different flavors; it felt like it would melt in his mouth, swallowing it before following it down with wine.

The jugglers were doing tricks, and some played with instruments; Jae recognized it as the Dornish's Wife. Jae was certain he could sing better than them.

After an hour, the dancing started; Lords and Ladies stood up, ready to dance with each other. Seeing the opportunity, Jae stood up from his seat and offered his hand to Arianne, who accepted with a smile, her hand grasping his.

"Thank you, my handsome prince," Arianne said before accepting his hand; he smiled, leading her to the center of the Great Hall.

They started dancing, and Jae kept her close as they kept dancing; for a minute, no one else mattered to them, but the time came for them to change partners.

To their surprise, out of all people at the feast. Dacey approached them, and Jae and Arianne wondered where she came from. Arianne crooked up at her; Dacey was as tall as Jae.

"Might I have the next dance, my lord?" Dacey asked; her Northern accent made her sound even more flirtatious.

"Of course he can, Dacey. Don't be late," Arianne answered instead of him; she smiled innocently as she kissed his cheek before walking back to her seat.

Dacey grabbed Jae's hand, and he followed her, ignoring everyone else dancing, including Robb Stark and Nymeria. "Ever danced in the South, my lady?"

"No, are you willing to teach me?"

"I wouldn't mind, but I never saw you as a dancer; I thought you liked maces?" Jae asked as their legs moved on their own around the stone floor; right now, he was leading, and she was following with a smile.

"A lady can like both, my Lord. My mother taught me how to dance, and my father taught me how to crush skulls." As they continued to sway to the rhythm, their bodies moving in perfect sync, he tightened his grip around her waist, the warmth of his hand providing a comforting touch. With each step, she felt an irresistible pull to draw closer to him, bringing her head closer to his. In sync with the motion, her long, dark tresses joined in on the dance, elegantly twirling and swaying.

"I'm quite enjoying the North, especially the beauty of the North," Jae said, smiling. Dacey smiled back; the smile looked beautiful on her face.

"Are there no beauties in the South?"

"Every place has it's own beauty, but the North is quite wild." Jae said as they kept dancing, now enjoying the dance even more.

"I Like the beauty of the South, my Lord," Dacey said with a low, husky voice; Jae shuddered, her cheeks pink, adding more to her wild beauty.

She pressed herself against him as they danced, and he could feel her bosom against his chest. Suddenly, Dacey pulled him close, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered seductively.

"Come with me tonight, the night is much more enjoyable with a companion."

Soon, they finished their dance, but rather than sitting back on his chair, Jae and Dacey were approached by an older woman. Unlike Dacey, she was shorter than her, but she held a warrior's face, grey hair reaching her shoulder, and wearing a ringmail; she glanced at Dacey before looking at him.

"I see you're enjoying a dance with my daughter, my lord." The old lady said, her voice hoarse. She was dressed like she was riding to battle.

"Yes, my lady. My name is Jon Sand." Jae said with a bow of his head. The old lady looked at him, studying his face.

"Jon Sand." She repeated the name carefully. "You look just like your father, your mother must have been from the North. Only someone from the North can be so handsome." She said, much to Dacey's shock.

"My father always said she loved riding horses." Lady Maege gave Jae a long look; her eyes flickered at Ghost standing behind Jae before looking back at him.

"I see." She suddenly murmured, but she continued further as she looked at her daughter. "Don't let my daughter deceive you, young man. She might appear sweet, but underneath she is as bitter as lemon." Dacey looked at her mother with wide eyes; her face went red with embarrassment. Jae tried hard but failed not to laugh.

"Mom!" Dacey shouted, completely embarrassed, suddenly feeling like a little girl. But Lady Maege ignored her daughter, looking over Jae's shoulder.

"Your — father is not doing well," Jae whirled; he quickly apologized to Dacey and Lady Maege before bolting towards his father. Nymeria quickly came to his aid, as did Obara. Their father's face had turned red with anger and alcohol, a cup still in his hand as he gripped Ser Arthur by the neck; his words came out incoherent, but Jae grasped his father away from Arthur, and his father started struggling against his grip.

"Father, father. We will see you in your chamber." Jae said bitterly, putting one arm around his shoulder; Nymeria did the same with his other arm, helping him walk out of the Great Hall with whatever dignity he had left. Ghost trailed after Jon.

"Father, why are you drinking?" Nymeria asked with a bitter twist in her mouth; Jae knew how much she didn't like people who drank too much. She never wanted to see her father like this.

"I— I— I— I fa—" Oberyn tried but failed to say anything; Jae sighed wearily; they didn't ask more questions. Instead, they walked him to his chamber, trying not to grab anyone's attention.

Soon, they reached his chamber, dropping him into a mountain of pillows. Ellaria quickly walked inside, walking over to lay with him in bed, caressing his head; his father had fallen asleep, saying words he didn't understand.

"What's wrong with him? Why is he — drinking?" Nymeria spat the word with venom; she didn't like people who got drunk, and she felt humiliated that her father was lying on his bed, no different from the Stag King. Suddenly, he sat up on the bed, his head leaning over the bed frame, vomiting everything on the carpet below; the smell of alcohol made Nymeria wrinkle her nose in disgust. Jae looked away, not wanting to see his father vomiting his guts out.

"You two can leave. I will take care of him." Ellaria promised Nymeria was quick to bolt out of the chamber. Jae gave his father one last glance; he seemed ashamed of himself but still drunk.

"Thank you, Mother," Jae said with a warm smile; she smiled at him bitterly as he left the chamber, closing the door as he did.

Nymeria was waiting for him outside, a heavy cloak around her, protecting her from the sharp winds of winter; besides them, the yard seemed empty; Ghost was nearby somewhere, perhaps playing with Spring.

"Jon, when will you talk with Lord Stark?"

"Tomorrow. He will introduce Aly to his family, and I will talk to him privately. Good Night, sweet sister." Kissing her cheek as she kissed him, he walked away, looking forward to tomorrow.

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