Daenerys IV

Daenerys Targaryen had been from one end of Essos to the other and back, seeing many queer things on the way. She had lived among the Dothraki, learned their ways, and even become one of them, after a fashion. She saw the plains of Jogos Nhai, where the men had pointy heads and rode black-and-white striped zorses. She saw the wealth and splendor of Yi Ti, where silk and spices were cheap, and the cities were so large and populous you could not ride from one side to the other in a single day. Even Asshai by the Shadow, where Dany learned the secrets of blood, could not compare to this.

A man dressed in hot pink was lecturing her on the finer points of dragon riding. "See here?" he said, holding a little wooden dragon, a child's toy, to tell it true. The man made a swooping motion, as a falcon strikes its prey. "That's dive bombing. The trick is pulling up before you hit the ground." Then he changed the motion to a skimming one. "This is called strafing. You did it well enough in the battle, but there is always room for improvement. Varying your approach angle would be best." This, he acted out with the toy, sweeping it over some oddments on the table to serve for "opfor," as he called it, short for "opposing force."

"You've thought about this quite a lot, I take it," Dany said as politely as she could. These Northerners were queer, grim men with long beards, clad in skins and leather. Only this one was clean-shaven, dressed in pink finery. He had made a gift of a pink dress to her as well, which she was grateful for, considering the crossing had mostly destroyed the garb she wore in Essos. It was a warm gown of pink wool which belonged to his squire. Arya Stark was four years younger than Dany, but they were of a height. Daenerys didn't quite know what to make of the fierce Northern beauty. Of course, to hear the men in the hall tell of it, the one she was speaking to was fiercest of them all.

Frankly, she didn't see it. Domeric Bolton looked like an ordinary man, but when he spoke, everyone bent an ear at once.

"Oh, yes," he answered. "Airpower might make all the difference. That was a good notion you had, burning their line of retreat. They can't slink back into the forest now. My scouts report the Other army is fleeing north up the Kingsroad."

It was not a notion she had at all. It was dark. The vision Quaithe sent from the glass candle said to follow the green light. Once she found the green, she set Drogon to burning what she could, trying not to catch the men at the edge of the wood in his black fire. Even three days later, the Wolfswood was still burning. Outside the castle, the smoke was like to choke her.

"Is there ought that I can get you?" asked Lord Stark, a kindlier man than she would've believed. Was this the usurper's dog, as her brother liked to call him?

She smiled placidly. "Thank you, no, my lord. Lord Bolton has been, er, educating me, and my dragon has been fed as well."

Lord Stark returned the smile. "Bolton held the right all night, guarding my son's flank. The Others' blow fell heaviest on him, and yet he still stands. I would counsel you to heed him."

"Me too!" bold Arya Stark agreed. Most of the other Northern lords feared to approach her, but Lady Arya was different. "We're sure to win now. This is the 'help from the east,' don't you think?"

"I do," Bolton answered. "My princess, you lit a fire in the east, did you not?"

"I did, when I hatched my dragons, but a one-eyed man used magic to steal one and sent another running off wild. It was all I could do to maintain my hold on Drogon."

Bolton frowned thoughtfully. "Dragon versus dragon combat is a different beast entirely. Let us hope it doesn't come to that."

Dany could only agree. Fighting her own children would be unthinkable. She dreamed about them sometimes, but she could not dwell on that. If I look back, I am lost. Quaithe was clear. She was the child of prophecy, the only one who could protect the people. Who else had woken dragons from stone? It had to be her. "What now?"

"Pursuit," answered Bolton immediately. All talk about the great hall of Winterfell ceased. "I can feel the weather turning. The power of the Others wanes, but isn't broken. They withdraw to reform and come at us again. We must march up the Kingsroad and make an end of them, once and for all."

The sound of a hundred swords leaving their scabbards made Dany flinch. "SCALP-TAKER!" they cheered.

***

"You know, I spent my whole life hearing tales of the Sunset Kingdoms," she said to Arya Stark, who was always willing to listen. The army was slow, bogged down by melting snow and mud, but that didn't stop her. She had spotted the glittering host of the Others some ten leagues to the north, but now it was time to give her dragon a rest and ride with the people.

"It's not always like this," the girl assured her. "When all this is done, you can visit my castle by the sea, if you like. Drogon could eat krakens and whales and other things."

"I'm sure I'd like that." They rode in silence for a time. Only one in twenty was mounted in this host, as many a horse had perished in the cold. Of course, mounts could be found for Arya Stark and Dany. The saddles were different from the Dothraki ones she was used to, but fairly comfortable. "You know, my brother Viserys never said anything about lady knights or lady squires. How had that come about?"

Arya smiled, making her look very pretty indeed. A great brown braid bounced with the gait of her horse. They were growing closer. It was almost like having Irri, Jhiqui, and Doreah again. It only helped that she had many pretty dresses to share, and other clothes that mostly fit. "In the words of my master, 'Who's gonna stop me?'" Her smile became a smirk. "That's really it. He took Elia Sand to squire and knighted her. Nobody really said anything. When you're as strong as him, people don't tend to question things. I tell you, every battle I ever fought, we won because of him."

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"And you think he knows much of dragons?"

Her new friend shrugged. She pointed out her wolf, which was as big as a horse. "See Nymeria over there? Lord Domeric knows better than I how to use her in battle, always did. Why not dragons? When we catch the Others in the open, just heed his advice, and we'll conquer."

Well, Dany supposed she had no reason to refuse. "What happens after that?"

"We're all humans, princess. The Others care not who sits the Iron Throne. King Stannis will thank you for defending his people. After that, who knows? Do you even want to be queen?"

To that question, Dany had no answer. The people here were friendly enough, but she did not know them, not truly. Was this her place? Viserys always said so, but her brother had been wrong more oft than right.

***

"They're trapped," Dany reported. "The Wall you told me of is rubble, blocks of melting ice, very slippery. The Others have been trying to climb, trying and failing."

Lord Domeric smiled viciously. "They can walk on snow without leaving footprints, but not on running water, it seems." He drew his red sword. "Looks like it's genocide time."

Dany raised an eyebrow. The man oft used queer words she had never heard before. "Genocide?"

"It means kill them all," Lady Arya supplied helpfully. She had a blade of black steel in her hand. The rest of their men made a shield wall, bristling with black glass spears. Most were already drawn up for battle, with some stragglers getting into position. "How many are there?"

"Ten thousand, I would say. Ser Jorah taught me how to quickly estimate enemy numbers."

"About as many as us, then, fitting," Bolton answered. "But your dragon will make the difference." He pointed his red blade to the sky. "And the sun, of course. These are creatures of the night. They are slow and sluggish in the light of day."

Arya helped her saddle Drogon. The black dragon seemed to be able to tell the girl was a friend. She was about to go up when a strange small woman appeared.

"Peace, Red Warrior!" she cried.

***

The woman was no woman. She had nut-brown skin, dappled like a deer, and had only three fingers and a thumb on her hands, with sharp black claws instead of nails.

Lord Domeric knelt to speak to her. "Could you be?"

"Yes," she answered. "I am what your tales name a child of the forest." The other lords in their array gaped in wonder. "I bear a message from the gods themselves."

"Please," Bolton said so softly Dany could hardly hear.

"You have fought well, Red Warrior, but the purpose of the gods for you in this world is at an end. They would have you make a peace."

"In this world," he muttered, as if the words had special meaning to him.

"Yes. In this world are men, giants, and Others. Aye, and children, though our name for ourselves is 'those who sing the song of the earth.'"

"I'll remember that," he said reverently. "You were the first to hold to the gods, and taught the First Men your ways."

"That's so. I say again, there are many different kinds of folk. With the wall fallen, there is a chance to restore the balance. You made room for the giants in the new world you've been building. You have restored many a land in the sight of the gods. There might be room for the Singers, for everyone."

"Of course," Bolton agreed at once. Stark and his lords muttered their agreement as well.

"That is easy," the child, the Singer, said sadly, "but what about your foes? Is there room in your world for them?"

Bolton stood up, twice as tall as the singer. "That depends. Is there room in their world for us?"

To that, the singer smiled. "Yes, I think. If you agree that no man shall pass beyond the ruin of the Wall, then none of the Others shall venture south ever again. Spare them, and the world will heal at last."

***

In a grove of queer white trees with faces, the lords of men, including Daenerys, met the representatives of the pale, alien Others. They were beautiful and terribly all at once, and had a harsh, raspy language like cracking ice. Their crystal armor wept in the sunlight.

The singer translated for both groups. Many an oath was sworn. When all was finished, the Singer spoke at last. "So it is done, a new Pact of Ice and Fire. Let the balance be restored, and the world renewed."

As a final token of goodwill, Dany went up with Drogon and melted a path through the ruined Wall with his black fire streaked with red. The Others marched through the gap and disappeared, and when they departed, it was like winter departed with them.

"What now?" she asked Lord Domeric after landing Drogon.

"We go home, I guess. You can meet my family at the Dreadfort, if you like. I'm a little worried about King Stannis. There's been no word from White Harbor."

Lord Stark looked worried too. "Even if there was bad weather and the fleet scattered, some of his ships ought to have arrived by now." He sighed tiredly. "Princess, I leave you in the care of Lord Bolton for the present."

"Oh, and you can visit Dreadport too!" Arya added, seemingly unbothered.