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White hot pain.
It was the last thing that she remembered as she opened her eyes and found herself laying in a dark cave. A fire with burning embers let out a steady warmth, although she could hear the rain outside against stone. The furs beneath her body were warm and soft. Outside, she heard a quiet voice and a loud, familiar huff. The snapping of jaws followed a quiet laugh and Daenerys shivered as she tried to sit up. She felt something pop in her stomach and gasped out. She must have been louder than expected because a girl rushed in. She, like the huff, was familiar. But, she couldn’t quite place her.
“You should rest, your grace.”
Her hands were warm against the furs as she guided her to lay once more. She smelled of salt and blueberries, but there was the underlying scent of cooking meats that clung to her. There was a loud noise outside the cave and as she turned her head, Daenerys caught sight of Drogon’s reddish eye and set herself at ease. Her son was safe and the familiar stranger meant her no harm, she wouldn’t have been allowed near her if he had thought otherwise.
“He’s been worried for you. We both were, you’ve been asleep for two weeks. I thought you had lost too much blood.”
The girl worked as she spoke. Daenerys had been so focused on her son being there that she hadn’t noticed the way the fur had been removed and left her bare to the waist. The cold made her shiver, but the furs were shifted afterwards so that her chest wasn’t bare and the girl was able to check beneath bandages. She didn’t remember getting wounded, but…
“Jon Snow has returned to Winterfell.”
She explained as she worked, puzzling Daenerys as she looked at her. The wound was small and it looked as if she had popped a stitch, but when the other two were cut free, she imagined it wasn’t a bad thing. The girl spread a small salve over her wound, replacing the cloth with a clean one and set the fur back over her. The name had screams returning to her memory, but she didn’t know why.
Her throat was dry and when she cleared it to speak, a bowl was placed at her lips. The water was freezing as it went down, but she was appreciative.
Light eyes, dark hair. Her familiar face came back to her in Winterfell, standing beside Sansa and Davos-
“Seaworth.”
The name registered a small smile.
“Ophelia, Lady. You can call me Oph, if you’d like.”
“Dany, then.”
“Dany. You were very lucky, an inch more to the right and I would have been helping Drogon set up your cremation rather than heal you. Be glad that Jon Snow was not as smart a man as he is pretty.”
Daenerys tried to relax. She understood then, the memories of how her injury had become floating back to her. Jon had stabbed her. Jon, whom she had trusted. Jon, whom she had loved. There was an ache in her chest where the betrayal had filled and she had tears form in her eyes that she was relieved that Ophelia chose not to comment on. Instead, she set a handkerchief in hand and excused herself to find something else to do. It was a pain that she knew was hard to explain.
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“How did you find us?”
The question had Ophelia lifting her head and looking at her three days later as they sat together with Drogon, admiring the longship that bobbed up and down in the water opposite of them. The sails were carefully crafted, while they held the same gray, white and black shades of the Seaworth House, the onion sigil had been replaced by a sparrow. Her own sigil, Daenerys had learned in the days of healing and rest.
Daenerys bit into a grape that had been brought ashore by her newfound ally. Across from her, Ophelia gave a puzzled look before she finished chewing and offered the cooked fish that they had been passing back and forth.
“I had been tracking Jon at the behest of Lady Sansa.”
Judging by the expression on her face, it was clear that shooting Jon with an arrow and saving Daenerys’ life hadn’t been part of her orders. She had betrayed the North and she would live with it for the rest of her life. However, the fact that the Seaworth House had always been known to do what they felt was right was something that Daenerys understood. Davos was the same way. The news that Brandon Stark had become the King of Six Kingdoms had arrived, with Ophelia’s father becoming the Master of Ships days before. Jon Snow had been exiled to the North to appease Greyworm and the Unsullied whom remained in the dark of Daenerys’ survival. It would be something fixed, Ophelia had said, once she was strong enough.
House Targaryen had been declared extinct, too.
“And you chose to defy her?”
“Sansa was a friend, Dany, she wasn’t my queen. Her behest was a favor owed and I had found Jon Snow. I do not fault you for your actions against King’s Landing.”
The words fell silent between the two women and when Daenerys didn’t reach out for the fish, Ophelia pulled it back and set the makeshift plate in her lap. She ran her tongue over her teeth, a nervous habit that had been picked out over the course of their time together.
“My father came from Flea Bottom, and it was dangerous there.” She said quietly, then, “There were good people there, I will not lie to you about that, but the majority were not good. Gin Alley was filled with cutthroats and daggers for hire, and it was filled with shit in the streets most days. You killed good people, yes, but you also killed men who were not so good. Men who raped for pleasure, murdered simply for money.” Ophelia frowned, “I remember public executions often bringing out the worst in people, so I cannot fault you for having a lapse in sanity.”
They were words that she hadn’t expected that she had thought she would hear, but she gave a nod of her head in thanks before she looked towards Drogon. Her son hadn’t tried to harm the girl at all since her arrival. She had been kind, feeding him both fish and rabbits shot with a bow before moving onto the bigger game since Daenerys had awoken. Ophelia told her that it allowed for her to keep sharp with her arm and as she had sat watching her bowfish earlier in the day, the concept seemed unnecessary.
“I admit I don’t know much about the politics of the kingdoms. I don’t really care to, if honest. I’m more comfortable on a ship.” She shrugged a shoulder then, “but I’ve seen your leadership and I support you. Once you’re healed up and ready, I’ll take you wherever you want to go. For now, you’re stuck with me on a ship.”
Ophelia said the words in a way that left no room for argument and Daenerys could only chuckle as Drogon disappeared into the trees for the time being. She didn’t mind the idea of it. Together, the two poked at the embers of the fire and began to plan for the future weeks.