Chapter Text
Dany POV
I cringe as I hear my brother's shrieking voice coming from the next room.
The moment I saw him reach for the wine at dinner, I knew what was coming.
And it was something I did not want to witness.
I ate as quickly as I could without it being obvious what I was doing. Otherwise Viserys might have awoken the dragon. I finished the stew in front of me and gently excused myself before running and locking myself in my room and sliding down onto the floor, leaning my head back against the slim piece of wood that is my only protection from my vile brother. The only thing I can do is hope he doesn’t come drunkenly seek me out.
After a few minutes I stood and made my way to where I am currently sitting, the seat closest to the window which overlooks the night time hustle and bustle of the Pentoshi streets.
I wonder if I could sneak down there.
I know it is not safe, Illyrio and Viserys have reminded me of that every time I expressed a desire to go into the city.
I know that they are right, but a small part of me always wonders if anything down there could be as bad as dealing with a drunk, horny and depressed Viserys.
I let a sigh escape my lips as I curse my last name internally.
I’m sure there was a time in history when being a Targaryen would have been a blessing.
A dream even.
But all it has ever brought me is pain, misery, and people I don’t even know attacking me with hatred in their eyes trying to kill me.
It has been 17 years since the Usurper and his dogs stole the throne from my family.
And all 17 years of my life I have been running.
All I want is a home.
A place where I can stay with no fear from kings or cutthroats or brothers.
The image of a lemon tree and a red door fly through my mind at the thought.
I look back at the city once again and come to a quick, if not a little rash, decision.
I grab the big cloak from my expansive closet, making special care to cover my hair, and quietly exit my room before I can convince myself otherwise or think about the consequences.
I know the route to the back, unmanned door of the manse, a servant had shown me the route a couple months ago.
Illyrio had wanted me to know the best escape route just in case escape was necessary.
I am not sure if this counts as necessary, but I am past caring at this point.
I have lived in fear of Viserys for too long.
In fear of what he has done to me in the past.
In fear of what he could do to me still.
In fear of waking the dragon.
But enough is enough.
No one intimidates the dragon.
Viserys says that all the time about our enemies. And how he will never back down or be intimidated by our enemies. About how the dragons will always be better than all the rest.
I roll my eyes as I think about my delusional brother.
I arrive at the door and shove it open.
Pretty soon I am amongst the drunken crowd.
Amongst the men and women as they stumble across all the alleys. Going from tavern to a brothel to a tavern to a brothel again.
Being amongst the crowd brings a smile to my face. The feeling of being anonymous is one I could get used too.
Of being normal.
I simply walk around the streets for, I don’t even know how long. I fend off a couple of lewd advances from drunk smelling men, but nobody bothers me that much for the most part, which surprises me.
I walk just simply enjoying the freedom and anonymity of walking amongst hundreds of people. But eventually my legs start to tire and I decide it is time to head back to the manse.
As I start the walk back to the expansive manse on the hill that I see in the distance, my smile is continuing to shine on my face.
The feeling of freedom as I continue to walk keeps the smile shining.
That is until I am yanked forcefully into an alley.
A shriek escapes my lips but my attacker quickly covers my mouth with his hand, preventing me from screaming for help.
His other hand forces my two hands together and above my head.
His muscular frame pushes up against a wall.
I try futilely to move and punch, but to no avail.
“Stop squirming!” He snarls at me.
I freeze, terror overtaking my body at the hatred in his voice.
My eyes look him over, to see if there is any indication of who he is or why he is doing this, but all I am able to make out of is a bear sigil on his breastplate.
“You are Daenerys Targaryen,” he says.
It is more of a statement than a question but I still shake my head in denial.
“Yes you are! Don’t try to deny it.”
He looks around and despite the public nature of our encounter, no one seems to be batting an eyelash at us.
“I am going to take my hand away now, and you are not going to scream. If you do, I will punch you in the stomach. Do you understand?”
I try to hold his gaze in defiance but he pushes me into the wall with more force, causing my head to knock lightly against the stone I am pushed up against.
“Do you understand?” He asks again in a lower voice.
I look around again, trying to find other options but I am not finding any.
I nod.
He slowly withdraws his hand and when he is satisfied that I am not going to scream, he reaches behind his back to grab something.
He pulls out a length of rope and brings my hands that had been above my head, in front of him.
He starts tying my hands together.
“There is a ship that leaves the harbor tomorrow morning, we are going to be on it. The voyage is going to take a while and I don’t want to have to have you tied up and gagged for the entire trip, but I will if I need to. Don’t give me any trouble, and you won't end up with bruises all over you, fair?”
Is it crazy to believe that my kidnapper might be treating me better than my own brother as he never hesitated to give me bruises?
I nod my head again.
It is not the best situation, but the best one I can hope for given there is no way I can escape this man’s grasp.
He is too strong.
“Where is the ship taking us?” I ask after I find my voice.
He pulls the last knot through and pulls it tight, causing pain to shoot up my arms and a wince to escape my teeth.
“That is not something you need to know.”
I let out a huff of disapproval but remain quiet.
He pulls me forward and pushes me into the streets.
He then pulls his side of the rope attached to my hands and starts leading us towards what I assume is either the docks or someplace for us to sleep.
Most likely the docks.
“Will you at least tell me why you are doing this?” I ask him.
His response is quiet but I hear it nonetheless.
“Because I want to go home,” he calls over his shoulder.
I release a sigh as I continue to walk behind him.
“Fair enough,” I say back, resigning myself that this is actually happening.
A little part of me is happy to be away from my brother.
He had just told me today that he was planning on wedding me to some Dothraki Kahl. He had started telling me what the Dothraki are like, and what my duty would be, which did not sound pleasant in any form of the imagination and this was in comparison to being with my brother.
I shudder again at the thought of the incredibly detailed conversation we had only hours ago.
The other part of me is terrified of what lies ahead of me.
I know that I should not consider ropes and being kidnapped a good thing. Because most likely this whole ordeal is going to lead to my death.
My brain if working overtime and it cannot come up with a way that this doesn’t end up with me either dead at the hands of the Usurper or of one of his loyal dogs.
There are not many situations where you get kidnapped and end up in a good place.
Especially when you are a Targaryen.
My thoughts are broken as we step onto a ship.
My kidnapper speaks quietly to one of the crew members before pulling me onto the ship. We walk for a few minutes before we arrive at the cabin, which he pulls us into.
The cabin does have two beds, but is not much bigger than that, just a small amount of space between the beds and that was it.
I plop down on the bed and look at my captor. I hold out my hands that are still tied together, indicating that I want the knot undone.
I am on the ship now in a small cabin, where could I possibly go.
The rope is starting to dig into my skin and is becoming very uncomfortable.
He looks up at me, then to my hands before shaking his head no.
I give him an extremely annoyed look but he just turns and ties the other end of the rope to a post.
“Why?” I ask him, clearly annoyed.
“I will untie you once we are away from the dock. Until then I can’t risk you running off,” he states simply.
I huff but sit down on the bed.
“So, what is the big plan here? You take me, one of the last two Targaryens, to wherever it is we are going, then what?”
“I’m allowed home, enjoy my time with my family. Try to make up with my father. Though the odds of this working are not very likely, I have no other choice. I have nowhere else to go,” he says sadly.
“Why is it not likely?”
“The man I am going to take you to, he is extremely honorable. And also extremely stubborn. He doesn’t change his opinion on people very easily.”
“And who is that?”
He looks at me but he lets out a sigh.
“Eddard Stark.”
Stark.
The name brings pain and anger into my veins.
“Stark!”
The name tastes like acid on my tongue.
He nods his head.
Any hope that I had that I was anything more than just a walking corpse is quickly extinguished by just that one name.
“You might as well just cut my throat yourself!”
“I need you alive and healthy, he won’t accept just a dead body, he needs to look you in the eyes.”
“Oh well, at least you thought this through,” I say exasperated.
On some level I appreciate the blunt honest nature, but the much larger part of me has hatred flowing through me at the unnamed man in front of me leading me to the Starks like a lamb to slaughter and the last part of me fears my oncoming death.
Because I know that the Starks will kill me.
That is a fact.
They are the Starks.
They are one of the family’s that decimated mine. They are one the usurper's dogs!
But that thought raises an interesting question.
“Why not take me directly to the Usurper? Why take me North?”
“Because if I bring you to the King, he might allow me to stay in Westeros, even give me a place at court for bringing him one of the last Targaryens. His hatred for your family is not a secret. But I don’t want to go to Kings Landing. I want to go home.”
He lets out a sad sigh before looking away.
“I’m sorry for doing this, no one deserves what I am and am going to put you through. No one should be judged and ridiculed for the family's mistakes. Your father may have been a terrible man, but that does not make every other Targaryen the same thing. I wish I didn’t have to do this, but I see no other way for me to be able to go home.”
I can see tears in his eyes.
“Get some sleep, we have a long journey ahead of us,” he says softly.
I nod my head and lay down on my side, my arms closer to where the rope is tied to the post so as to make it easier on my hands.
As I close my eyes, I feel a little remorse at the idea that I will never see Viserys again.
No matter how horrible, abusive or demeaning he could be or how angry he could get, he did keep me alive all my life.
But the feeling of remorse is replaced by peace as I drift to sleep, heading towards my own death.