farsickness | Seeing the Wonders of the World

Seeing the Wonders of the World

WHO: Daenerys and OTA
WHEN: 02/7 - 2/12
WHAT: Arrival, settling in
WHERE: Gazin and around
WARNINGS: None, will update if necessary.

Arrival

For a time, as she wandered towards the town, Daenerys had assumed that she was still in the Red Sea. Drogon was gone and the Dothraki scout had disappeared, but the vast wilderness was largely the same. But as her senses adjusted and the shock wore off, it was clear that these two worlds were very different. Without a dragon or her silver to ride, she could only walk to the nearest village or safe haven.

"Gazin", a sign had said. It wasn't familiar and didn't sound like anything from Essos, but it was the nearest and only choice. The sun bared down on her as she reached the outskirts, tired and thirsty, exhausted from the walk and after effects of whatever she had eaten. She hadn't reached the town fully, but needed a moment to catch her breath, finding a large stump to lean on. She could see the town better, the outlines of buildings and houses. Soon enough she would hear the people and smell the scents of village life.

Another figure was walking from the opposite direction, a wanderer no different than her. She smiled as they neared, still tired, but hoping perhaps they might have water. It didn't look it. "Are you lost as well?"

Around Town

There was at least an explanation in time. This place was Gazin, it was another world and they had been brought here by outside forces with no clear indication of when they could leave. There were others from worlds she never heard of, creatures and magic that baffled her, but apparently existed in their realms. With that sort of knowledge, it made meeting others easier in her mind.

Apparently coin was a necessity to, but with few skills outside of ruling, there wasn't much she could offer. Thankfully there was an apothecary who needed an assistant to run errands for him and collect herbs in the mornings. He was too old and too fat to manage, allowing her a bit of freedom to move and work, truly learning by action and involvement.

The better part of the day was delivering commissioned potions or ordered herbs. It allowed her to walk through the village and see the others around her, not simply the natives but those settling in as she was. With an empty basket, she loitered near a few stalls, purchasing something to eat.

"Are you hungry? I could pay for it?"

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He's figured out by now that she doesn't know who he is, but it might be time to get around to the fact that he knows who she is. "I haven't been in every village in Westeros, obviously, but this one seems like it wouldn't be out of place there." It's got some of the same places, at least.

"It is possible to get the innkeeper to allow you to delay payment for a few days, though I don't think he'll go much longer than that." He'd managed it, at least, and then had started doing a few odd jobs for the innkeeper until he could pay with coin.

She blinked in surprise, stumbling over her feet again. She held firm to his arm as she wheeled around to get a better look at him. Her head was swimming, blurring her vision a bit as she tried to get a handle on herself. If this man was from the place of her birth, she wanted to see him properly, to know if he was a man she could trust.

He was handsome, even on second inspection. It was a difficult fact to ignore, but she knew that handsome faces could hide dark betrayals.

"Who are you?"

There's an easy answer to this question, but he's not sure if he wants to go there yet. That would be a lot to explain, on top of a lot of other things to explain. But he also knows he can't wait too long to tell her the full answer.

"Jon Snow." He doubts the name means anything to her, but at least it gives away his Northern heritage. "We met -- will meet, I suppose -- on Dragonstone. I came to you for assistance."

The name doesn't mean anything to her, save for what she knows "Snow" means. She regards him for a moment, seeing elements of the North about him, but there was little else that she recognized. Yet he seemed to treat her as though there was some sort of friendship between them. It wasn't terrible, especially while she was not feeling her best and lost in this world.

"Dragonstone?" She was almost breathless at the thought. She had set aside those plans for the protection and safety of Meereen. To have someone claim she later sails for Westeros made her heart swell. "I must be very old by then."

He came to terms a long time ago with what "Snow" means. He never liked it, but at least he accepted what it means for him. And like he'd had pointed out to him, he'd had a better upbringing even as bastard of one of the great Houses than most trueborn children of smallfolk could have hoped for.

"It wasn't that many months ago." And before she asks: "There's less than a year between us in age."

"It seems you know me well enough to know my age." She tries to laugh about it, but can only manage a smile. It's disconcerting that he has these memories that she doesn't. Aside from the fact that she returned to Westeros, she apparently had a life there that she never expected or imagined. She had assumed she would stay in Meereen with Hizdar and her followers.

"You seem rather young now."

"We've spent quite a bit of time together since I came to see you on Dragonstone." True, they'd both wanted something out of it, but they'd also both gotten what they were looking for.

"I'm the oldest of the Starks still living." Which doesn't mean he's not young. It just means there's no one else to go to for this, and protecting the North is now his responsibility. Even if he's not a Stark by name. "I was born not long after Robert's Rebellion ended." Which gives her an idea of his age, and how it compares to hers.

"Did we?" That raised the question of what sort of time they spent together and the reason for their alliance. She was curious, but unsure that she wanted to know just yet. He knew her more than most did or seemed to, save for Daario and Ser Jorah. It made her uneasy, made worse when she hears he is related to the Starks.

She pulled away, stumbling back as she looked at him. If they spent time together, she must have trusted him. He never attempted to harm her or betray her as Ser Jorah had. "I have no memory of this."

"I know." He's been trying to provide some context for her, to put her at ease, but now it seems he may have provided too much. If Sansa were here, she'd be giving him that look for making a mess of things again.

"The inn isn't far from here. Anyone should be able to direct you to it." If she'd rather do it that way.

She watches him for a long moment, drinking in not only his sincere features but reaching out to get some sense of what sort of man he is. He hadn't concealed his familial ties, he was upfront about everything where Jorah had kept secrets from, as had Ser Barristan. With so much she didn't understand about this world, could she afford to turn away a potential ally?

"I need your help making it there. I fear I will collapse without it."

He nods. That's acceptable to him. He leads her down the street again, not touching but close enough to be support if she needs it.

He's silent for a moment before finally asking, "Do you have a problem with the Starks?" He'd noticed her pull away, and he remembers the accusations on Dragonstone.

"Eddard Stark was close friends with the Usurper. My family was slaughtered by the both of them. I have spent my entire life running from assassins. I do not know if Eddard Stark played a role in that, Ser Jorah spoke of him in an unflattering light. However, I have found to be careful of who to trust."

She doesn't want to live that way, to be as paranoid as Viserys was. But nearly being poisoned hadn't helped.

He's wondered about that himself, in the time since he found out the truth. About Ned's friendship with Ned. It had seemed less sinister when he thought that Ned and Robert were just attempting to rescue the one's sister and the other's betrothed. But knowing the truth of it makes it so much different. Had Robert known the truth when he sent the news that brought the Starks to the south? Probably not, or he might have suspected something later on. But he still doesn't know how to reconcile the Ned he knew with someone who counted a man like Robert Baratheon as a friend.

"The Mormonts are sworn bannermen of the Starks. Ned's the one who exiled him. I wouldn't put too much stock in what he has to say." At least he'd agreed to help defend Winterfell and all of Westeros, but probably only because Ned wasn't around anymore.

"Ned Stark was the most honorable man I knew. He didn't do things just because he could."

He wasn't wrong about that assessment. Ser Jorah seemed to have no remorse for the actions that lead to his exile, just as he had no remorse for selling her secrets to the Spider. He had saved her life, claimed he loved her, but Ser Jorah still had thoughts for himself, what he believed was his right. She didn't want to admit that or even to acknowledge the faults in her Great Bear. She only wanted the fond memories, as she had wanted the past in Viserys, the boy who left her sneak in his bed and told her sweet stories.

Life wasn't kind that way.

"If I am to disregard Ser Jorah's bias, do you not speak with bias of your own? Should I countenance that?" It's more a question to see how he responds. She didn't think much of Ned Stark, now or otherwise. Given what Ser Barristan said, she knew the story was more complicated.

But the question would at least let her get a glimpse of Jon's thinking.

Back at home, his own reputation would tend to be enough to vouch for someone else's reputation, but this isn't home and she doesn't know him well enough for that yet. Of course his reputation at home is partly due to his association with the Starks, but he's also done plenty to earn it on his own.

"It's not just me. He was highly regarded throughout the North. All of the Starks are. There's a Mormont named after Lyanna." She'd been the first to call him a Stark, to give him a place to belong in the North, and that was enough for him. "Not just within the North, either. Stannis Baratheon once told me how honorable he thought Ned was." Though he doesn't expect the word of a Baratheon is enough for her either.

"He kept me safe. Protected me, raised me as part of his family, when he didn't have to." He can't imagine Ned Stark doing anything other than protecting his sister's son though, whether she had asked it of him or not. He doesn't know what Ned's opinion on the matter had been, but he'd raised his nephew without complaining. "Not everyone would have done that, and if that gives me bias, then so be it."

One thing that Starks are is loyal.

Hearing of the North's regard for the Starks, as well as Stannis Baratheon's approval makes her stomach turn. Something about it reminds her too much of Viserys' blind belief that the smallfolk were drinking secret toasts to him and would come out in support for him when he landed in Westeros.

She only knew the Starks through stories and it was at their hands her family suffered. Convincing her of their honor was difficult from the outset, and while she would reflect on this later, she wanted to see more how Jon Snow would frame this, how he would approach it. Who he was would be shown more clearly in how he regarded and viewed those he cared for. Viserys would never have spoken softly about her or as tenderly as Jon spoke of his father.

That alone told her that he had a gentleness in him, a kind she had never really known before in her life. "If you were loved then there was love he could give. He was capable of it. Some are not. I am glad for you."

"He loved his children." He had never doubted that for a moment. Nor had he doubted that Ned loved him, even though, as he knows now, he's not one of Ned's children. The fact that Ned claimed he was, when he could have just as easily claimed him as a ward instead of a son, is all the convincing Jon needs.

"He and his lady wife even loved each other, even though they were strangers when they married."

"So few are blessed that way," and she had used up the last of her luck with Drogo. She had seen the other wives of khals and heard various stories. Even outside of the Dothraki, wives could never rely on a gentle husband and a loving heart. Ned Stark was no more clear to her than he was before, but it was a sweet thought.

"I imagine their marriage wasn't the result of a peace agreement. That may have helped."

"They are not." Robb had been, briefly, but that hadn't exactly turned out well. Sansa had had two husbands, and while Tyrion had been nowhere near as bad as Ramsay, it hadn't been much of a marriage, either. He's not aware of many marriages that are, in fact.

"No. She had been meant to marry Brandon Stark, until..." The Mad King burned him alive. "He died."

She was quiet for a moment, considering what she could say to this. While she had not been born or played a part in it, she bore her father's blood. She was the only one left of her family, the last that could answer for these crimes and try to remedy the mistakes of the past.

"My father was cruel." He was a monster, to be frank, but the words were too frightening to say now. Not when she was still struggling with her own place in the world and with who and what she was.

He carries that blood as much as she does, though she doesn't know that yet, and he hasn't decided how to tell her. More than just carrying that blood, he's also a walking reminder of why Robert's Rebellion happened in the first place. He doesn't know how things were between the Starks and the Targaryens before Rhaegar and Lyanna met, but he knows what the stories say now. At least on the Stark side. He's a walking reminder of that, too.

"That doesn't mean that everyone else was." He knows the story about Rhaegar isn't true, but he doesn't know what is true. And while he is trying to reconcile things Sam told him about Danaerys with his own feelings, he also realizes that the one he's talking to hasn't done those things yet.

He knows what it means to be a Stark. He has no idea what it means to be a Targaryen.

"Or is, I hope." She shuts her eyes for a moment, making a silent plea to the gods to not be the monster that she might be. Ser Barristan had assured her there was no taint of madness in her, but that fear still ran deep. Seeing what her children were capable of, she knew that it wouldn't be too far for her to extend her arm the same. Her men pushed her often and loudly to use her dragons, but the images of burnt corpses, the screams of terror. She could never go that far, it wasn't in her.

"Rhaegar would have made a better king." It was the worst that she could say against her father, her king. Even when Viserys was at his worst, she was still loyal to him and called him her king. She would have given him everything she had just to see him be a better man, but that was too far gone now.

"Do you think so?" It's not a statement intended to start an argument, or disagree with her. There's no defiance in it, but he does his best to keep a hint of desperation out of his tone, something that might sound strange coming from a Stark. He's only heard one story about Rhaegar, a story about kidnap and rape, and he knows now that it's not a true story.

She never met her brother, but she seems to know something about him.

"I believe so." She had never met her brother, but knew this deep in her heart. Where she might have been influenced about her father by Viserys, there was something in her blood that understood and knew Rhaegar. He was the last true dragon so many had said, at least until her dragons were born. That, in some way, bound them together.

"He is still loved and admired even now. Ser Barristan spoke well of him."

It's not just bias on her part then, it seems, and her assertion is good enough for him. For now. She might be able to provide answers to things he's been wondering about since Sam found him in the crypt at Winterfell and told him some things he hadn't wanted to hear at the time. But first she needs to know why he's asking them.

"Robert's Rebellion should never have happened."

"No, it never should have." He was echoing her sentiments. Had the rebellion never happened, her brother and his children would have lived. Her mother might have survived with the right maesters and Viserys would never have turned to such malevolence and cruelty. But a price would have to be paid for such happiness, her dragons.

She pressed her hand to her head, feeling the steady thrum of pain at her temples. "I would have had a home, a family."

He'd had a home and a family, but when it came down to it, it had been half of a family, and half of a home. He'd never really belonged there, because in the end, a Snow is not a Stark. He was only welcome there because the lord of the house said he was. Lady Stark had never wanted him there, and she'd made that very clear. He might have had a place to belong if things had gone differently.

They're only a few feet from the inn, where he spots a couple of chairs in the shade outside. He leads her over to one and makes sure she's sitting in it before he continues.

"Ned Stark wasn't my father." He can only hope that this makes sense at some point. He doesn't know how else to tell it. "He was my uncle. Lyanna Stark was my mother."

She must know the story. She must have some idea of what that means, right?

She didn't hear him exactly, focusing on the chair that he helped eased her into her. Her head was still swimming, her stomach still twisting. At least now they were in the village, her feet could be given a chance to rest and let the swelling go down. The heat wouldn't be as exhaustive to her, she could simply sit for a moment and enjoy the feeling of being somewhere other than the wastes.

"I thought you said he was your father?" She asked, her mind finally wrapping a little around what he was saying. It was a paradox, a paradox for a woman still half with fever. "'Rhaegar's lady', that was what Viserys called her. The Usurper's lies never reached Essos."

"My whole life, I thought he was." Everyone thought he was, because Ned said he was. "He told me that he was. That was the safer option." And safety is what he had promised Lyanna her son would have.

Her comments provide further confirmation of what he'd already been told, which he no longer doubts. He can't anymore, not after everything. "She was his wife."

Not that he can prove any of this.

She frowned, looking up at Jon with suspicion and guarded worry. She was starting to understand what he was implying, but she couldn't accept it yet. She couldn't let herself for something that she had been denied for most of her life. How could others not know of this? How could she not have been told? How could the rebellion happen if this was true.

She closed her eyes, trying to focus and push away the twisting of her stomach.

"Do you mean to say you are a Targaryen?"

"So I've been told." Once he'd had a chance to think about it, it had started to make sense. More sense than any alternative explanation does, even. Sam would never have been cruel enough to play a trick on him like that.

"I expect that dragon would never have let me ride him if I weren't."

Now it seems like he's taunting her. She had invited Quentyn to tame and ride one of her dragons, but it seemed as if they were opposed to the stranger. To hear that this supposed Targaryen was suddenly riding a dragon, it seemed almost too good to be true. It was the embodiment of everything she wished for, a family, home and another head of the dragon to join her.

Everything he said, they were just words and the words pained her heart deeply.

"Enough," it was said in a firm voice, but the vulnerability was clear on her face. "My brother's children were killed, slaughtered. There is no one else."

What else had he expected? He hadn't wanted to hear this himself at first, and answers were what he'd always wanted. He doesn't know what's the best way to tell someone this, because he's never had to before. Maybe mentioning the dragon had taken it too far.

He doesn't need to be reminded of the children who came before him, either. They had the same father he did, only they didn't have someone to protect them.

"This is the inn. The innkeeper is willing to provide rooms for new arrivals, and meals, and defer payment for a couple of days." So she has some time to settle in before figuring out what comes next.

She wanted it to be true and a part of her had believed that Lyanna and Rhaegar had wed. Wouldn't a child come from such a union. There were aspects of this that were simple, but must be true. But her heart ached still with loss and defeat. Not simply Viserys's death and the emptiness he had left behind, but her own struggles in Meereen and the growing feeling that she was only causing harm.

She couldn't let herself believe yet, not when it meant risking her heart for more hurt.

"It means I have to find a way to make some coin."

"Yes." It had been something new for him too; going from Winterfell to the Night's Watch meant he hadn't had to worry about making an income of some sort. But he is used to work, so he'd figured it out. "You should find that there are other new arrivals who are willing to help, as well as many of the townspeople."

"I don't require charity." It's said softly, a hint of frustration and pain in her voice. She could remember Viserys seeking help and the way others mocked him. Even if she was starving, she would try to make her own way. She would search for work tomorrow, it would at least keep her moving than lingering in shock.

"Thank you for your help."

"Not all of them would call it charity." But it's up to her if she wants to make use of the help that's available. He's just letting her know it's there.

"If you need anything else, I'll be at the stables."

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Seeing the Wonders of the World

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