Daenerys V

Dany was beginning to think Domeric Bolton was everything people said he was. Initially, she'd balked at his insane plan to infiltrate the castle with nothing but a girl and a wolf, yet here they were. He'd won her back Viserion, her child, her dragon, and slain the sorcerer who stole him. Gods, she could still see that awful eye under the patch in her dreams. What dark ritual could've given a man such a thing? Well, no dark ritual was proof against Valyrian steel, it seemed. His head was on a spike, and they put the eyepatch back. There was no point in traumatizing people with something so evil and unnatural.

"Would you like to go up with me?" she offered to young Bran Stark. Young. What manner of family was this? Bran was younger than even Arya yet taller than she was.

I'm not short!

Bran answered with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "If you would have me, I should be glad to."

Quite courteous, she noticed, letting none of his grief show, though he must've been feeling quite a lot of it. Arya told her the Stark direwolves were a part of them, almost like unto Targaryen dragons. The pain she felt when she lost Viserion and Rhaegal...Dany would not wish this upon her worst enemy. Viserion was won back, and Rhaegal was still out there, roaming wild and free. To see one die would go terribly hard.

Bran's grief was raw, and not limited to his wolf. The knight he'd squired for had fallen in battle, and his promised bride as well. It was not just grief with that one, but guilt as well. Whatever power was in his blood, the gift of the First Men that allowed him to fight Greyjoy for control, was no sure thing. In the fight, Viserion had gone mad and crashed into a tower. Bran was not to blame, but it would do no good telling the boy that. How many times had Dany erred when Quaithe was teaching her the secrets of blood? Magic was a sword without a hilt.

Three losses had he suffered, Dany realized. It was not so different with her. Jorah, Drogo, Rhaego, she would never forget. In many ways, her second life began the day she lost them and lit the fire that woke her dragons. Would it be the same for Bran?

In any case, Drogon was big enough for two. Dany sat Bran in front of her and flew them over the great lake men called the God's Eye. Harrenhal was visible to the north, with ruined towers that looked like shriveled black candles. These towers had been twisted and melted by dragonfire, Bolton told her, by her grandsire's grandsire's grandsire. For most of her life, Dany knew no family but her brother, but House Targaryen was great once, and many. It was strange to see evidence of that with her own eyes.

The higher and faster they flew, the more it seemed Bran's smile grew genuine. He loved to fly, and from the way Viserion acted around him, it might be that the boy could ride a dragon of his own one day.

A dangerous thought, that. Dany had seen the chaos Euron Greyjoy had wrought with a single dragon. King's Landing was a blasted ruin. She'd flown over it twice to make sure. Domeric Bolton was mad for scouting, and hated surprises more than anything. He'd told her that the better part of leading men in battle was making sure you couldn't be surprised.

After a while, Dany could sense Drogon was getting hungry, so she took them back to the castle and sent her mount off to hunt. The water only, she said sternly in High Valyrian. Devouring sea beasts didn't harm her subjects. It would be awful if Drogon ate some poor farmer's only milk cow.

She sent Bran off with a kind smile and a squeeze of his shoulder. Dany considered kissing him on the cheek, but mayhaps not yet, not while he was still hurting so. They both knew what the likely course was; no need to force it. Dragon must wed dragon, for the realm's sake if nothing else.

Lord Bolton had taken the Tower of Dread, at least the ground floor, for his own. Dany found him hard at work. "Any luck?" she asked.

"None," he answered, not looking up from the parchment he was scratching on. "There has been no sign of Princess Shireen. We must assume the Seven Kingdoms are without a sovereign."

"Would it change anything if she were found?"

He looked up and met her eyes. Bolton's looked almost completely white. They would seem terrible, lifeless, dead, and empty of human feeling if she didn't know the man. "No. To most of Westeros, possession of a dragon would mean the right to rule. Your claim is out there flying around on black wings."

Her brother's dream was about to become real. Strange. Daenerys didn't know how to feel about it. "Then I am queen."

Bolton nodded gravely. "You are, Your Grace." The style had a queer formality that rang dissonant in Dany's ears. Was she Dany anymore? Or was she Daenerys Targaryen, first of her name?

"Then I name you my Hand."

He smiled sadly. "I was afraid of that." Even though he said that, the man changed tack faster than the queen would've believed. "Then our first order of business shall be establishing your court here, at Harrenhal. Lady Whent is an old friend of mine, and will be happy to house us. We can decide what to do with the ruins of King's Landing later. For now, fear of your dragons and me shall keep the peace. The King's Peace, excuse me, the Queen's, must be our first priority. All justice flows from you."

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Dany had a feeling this was going to be a long conversation, so she pulled up a chair. "And our second priority?"

"Your marriage arrangements," he answered at once. "Arya tells me Bran has the power of a greenseer, one of the sages of old who had been blessed by the gods. With this, he has formed a bond with Viserion. Do you concur?"

She thought for a moment. "Yes. Viserion would accept Bran on his back. With a bit of training from me, he'll make a dragon rider."

"Then our course is set. You two must marry." He leaned forward, looking at her seriously. "Tell me the truth, do you think you can wait for him to grow up?"

Dany nodded. "I think waiting would be best, actually. I grieve still for my first husband, haven't had a chance to grieve, actually. After the dragons, I lost myself in Asshai for a time. Bran is grieving too."

Lord Domeric didn't relent. "Because you are queen and I am Hand, I will speak plainly. Taking a lover while we wait for the boy to grow to manhood would be very bad, potentially destabilizing to the realm. Can you really wait?"

"Yes, absolutely," she answered at once. Taking a man into her bed was the last thing on her mind.

"And you have seen Robb Stark. Bran should grow up to be at least as handsome as him. Is he to your tastes?"

She considered. "Robb is not hard to look upon. To tell it true, Drogo wasn't that handsome, just strong and fierce. What girl doesn't like a strong man who loves her well?"

Bolton clutched his chin and nodded thoughtfully. "Well and good. I have taken charge of young Bran's training at arms. When he wins his spurs, you will marry. I'll make a hell of a knight of him; that's a promise."

"And I shall teach him the ways of the dragon. We'll make a saddle for Viserion, and we'll ride together. That should cheer the boy."

"Ah, and we must see to your education."

Dany's stomach dropped. "Education?"

Bolton smiled a mirthless smile. "Yes, education. You have been too long abroad. A queen should know her histories, law, culture, customs. I've got a maester coming up from the Citadel, goes by the name of Marwyn. Yes, and you need to know enough of numbers to understand a budget, what things cost, your royal incomes, and so forth. You'll have plenty of help there. My family is half merchants, you know."

Being queen suddenly sounded terribly dull! "A cruel Hand I've made!"

"No crueler than I have to be, Your Grace. There are other matters, long-term matters. Lady Whent has agreed to let us tear down Harrenhal. We will rebuild it at one tenth the size, for Harrenhal as it is is too costly to maintain for a single family, and use mammoth sledges to drag the excess stone to the mouth of the Trident, where I shall build you a mighty capital. I've always wondered why there was no great city there. From what I understand, the river kings of old had their power further inland, on the Red or Blue Forks, and didn't want to charter a city to the east which might compete with them for influence. Proper architects and city planners will be brought in from Braavos. My wife knows just who to call. Your city will be nicer and cleaner than King's Landing ever was."

She'd only just made him her Hand, and Domeric Bolton was already planning so much! "How?" she demanded incredulously.

"Giants, mammoths, and those Unsullied. If you know anything about stonemasons, you know it is one master directing a gang of unskilled grunt labor. The Unsullied remnants Euron brought will be pleased to work for wages. They know enough of the Common Tongue to take basic directions, at least pointing and grunting. They need something useful to do, now that they're free."

"What shall we call this city you are building for me, my lord?"

"I thought Rivendell might suit."

"Why not Riverdale?" Dany suggested.

Bolton's nose wrinkled in disgust. "That is a cursed name, I'm afraid."

Somehow, Dany didn't believe him. "Cursed by what?"

"Never mind. Just be kind to Bran and learn your lessons diligently. Right now, I'm working on a refugee resettlement program. Archmaester Marwyn has proved that weirwoods protect against the Red Rot. So we'll be planting trees along with people in the areas depopulated by the plague. The survivor's of King's Landing must have new homes. There will be a great heart tree at Rivendell, you'll see, and fountains, sewers, and more. Giants build faster than you would believe. I've got a whole army coming down the Kingsroad to start breaking up Harrenhal. Ah, and we'll be summoning lords to do you fealty. You need a nice new dress for that. Your throne will be a special surprise. Let's just say it's something better than iron."

He was talking more to himself than to her, but Dany could tell Bolton would prove diligent. He would be a good Hand, and mayhaps Bran and she could grow to love one another. Though a boy now, in a few short years he would grow to manhood. Fostering blood ties with houses Stark, Tully, and Arryn could only help her. Daenerys knew that much of Westeros.