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Everything was dark when Daenerys came too. The lingering pain in her side throbbed against her stomach, it was almost enough to distract her from the ash coating her throat, her mouth feeling as though she had swallowed balls of cotton.
It was the sounds that came first, the movement of people in the far off distance, the fluttering of birds wings in the sky, the crashing waves against the stony shores as the tides turned out.
The light hitting her eyes made her think back on her days in Yonkai, how the warmth of the sun fanned over her skin. If she were anyone else, perhaps the sun would have aborned her with a golden tan, or even freckles that the sun would have kissed over her cheeks. And yet, the heat was the only thing making her feel alive as she managed to open her eyes. As though she had slept for a week, with how much effort it was to allow them to open and refuse them to close.
The green leafs littering her vision of the sky; A sky that she could have sworn was last covered in ashes and cloud last she looked up.
The sounds of the bird floated in the air, the sharp sounds making her head throb even more as she slowly allowed herself to sit up. Her hand behind her as she felt the soft grass for what felt like the first time in years.
When was the last time she saw grass so green?' It was as if it were made from Jade, the morning dew against the blades only helped keep Daenerys in confusion as to where she was.
She willed her mind to remember, yet all she could remember was dark eyes pairing down at her as the cold pressure against her stomach, as if a bla-
Jon snow
She felt her body run cold as she remembered. The ash. The screams. The throne. Her nephew.
But that wasn’t her, she couldn’t have done something so… Horrific
She was angry, yes. They had taken everything from her except herself, but she wouldn’t have done that, no, she refused to believe it was so. Even as she felt the lingering sting of the dagger in her side. Her breathing was strained as she tried with all her might to collect herself, or at least try too. After several moments she found the strength, and rose to her feet, the soft ground drowning the sound of her shoes against the dirt as she wandered aimlessly through the forest.
She wandered for what felt like hours, her feet mindlessly putting one in front of the other as if they knew where they were heading. the pounding in her skull only increased tenfold as she climbed over fallen logs or tipped over tree roots. It felt as though it took her years as she wandered. she could remember the last time she had been forced to wonder for hours. How Drogon had flown away from her in the Red Waste, how Moro had taken her for a slave.
Daenerys keep walking till the sun seemed to disappear, the woods barely lit forcing her to find shelter under a large trunk. the chill of the night taking ahold of her as she struggled to keep her sleep, the leaves slightly, to wet, and the air too cold.
It wasn’t like the Red Waste, or Vaes Dothrak where she could rest easier under the heat if the moon Goddess. This was unknown, a place she didn’t know, where the winds howled at night, and the quiet darkness was enveloped with noises she could remember in a distant dream.
A Queen who was a commoner in her own lands.
She wasn’t sure what time it was when she awoke, but she knew that it was well into the day. The fatigue taking ahold of her body as she forced herself to continue walking.
Her movements growing more and more sluggish as she couldn’t help the need to continuously wet her lips, even though her mouth felt like cotton. Her muscles ached as she climbed up and over hills of the Forest terrain, the endurance becoming too overwhelming as she came into a clearing.
There, she could finally see where she was.
The silhouette of the Red Keep shone against the sun, the red almost enveloping the sky as the stench was just far enough for her to be blissfully unaware of where she was. The trees littering around the outside of the clearing, like they were making way for her to finally see where she had stepped out of.
The city she had dreamed off, the people she promised to liberate from the wheel of Nobels claiming peace under false pretenses, under thinned vails of power in disguise. A city built off the torment of the people forced into labour, people who travels to Kings landing with the hopes of a future under the capital.
Perhaps some made something of themselves with their crafts, maybe some slipped through the crack. Others rotted in corners for Kings and Queens to see, while others thrived on the needy and poorest occupant's. Yet, with all of it in mind she couldn't help but marvel in just how vast the city was even from a distance.
It was almost breathtaking to see, until the sound of twigs snapping behind her caught her attention.
She snapped her head around to look at the intruder. Only to find a stag.
Memories flooding back to Winterfell. The last stag she saw was different. The new lord Baratheon was all lean with a head of dark hair, darker than night. Though, this Stag was different. This one was tall, much taller than she’d ever expect to see from a Hart. This antlers were more than half its's size, with the horns branching off in multiples, without any pattern in mind, as if they grew without reason or direction.
It was a thing of beauty - not like her dragons, no. That had a different like of magical quality.
Both seemingly older than time, both older than the lands they occupied. And yet, they were both so different, one of the land the other sky, one made from peace and ataraxia. while the other born of fire and blood.
Though it looked as though it had been made in the image of house Targaryen, it's silver coat almost shimmering like water against the sunlight.
The moment was calm as she watched the Hart walk closer to her, it's large nose seeming to twitch at the smell of her, as though it had never smelt anything like her. She thought of how she must of smelt, like ash and sweat, her once silver hair, now littered with gray and dirt, her clothing crusted over with her blood.
Though, it seemed as though it didn’t mind as it came closer, only a few feet away from her. It's large eyes looking over her as she let out a weak breath. Her body seeming to shake at the presence of the deer. The feeling overwhelming her in a way she had never felt with her children. A Tingle seeming to pass over her arms and spine just from the proximity alone.
She was so engrossed with the White Hart, that everything seemed to dissipate around her. All the trees, Kings Landing in the distance. and the two toned eyes staring at her in the tree line.
Baelor watched from the treeline, his hand against the hilt of his sword as soon as he saw the flash of silver hair that hadn’t accompanied the royal party on their hunt.
Memories of skin tearing and blood spraying filling his vision, as he watched what he could only assume was a Blackfyre kin unknowingly steeping towards the Ancient White Hart. A symbol he had read about throughout during his youth. A symbol of royalty among the Old Gods, how tales of men who had seen the creature were destined for a pure reign.
It had been years since he had spilled bastard blood though, and he would do so again if it meant protecting the Seven Kingdoms from another rebellion.
Yet, as he stepped forward, the stag responded just as fast, it's head snapping to attention as it turned its attention to him. Baelors eyes catching the dark lair of the harts, and the pair of violet eyes staring as him as if he were a dragon incarnate.
They stood their, watching each other, her gaze flickering down towards his hand against his sword.
The tension was thick despite one another knowing nothing about the other. And for some reason known only to the Gods, The white Hart stayed planted to the ground as if it were a tree, unmoving and invested, knowing it mere presence would deter any violence that might and could have broken out if it were to run.
“State your name and business” he called out as he finally stepped out of the clearing. he eyes trained on her, watching for any flitting inkling that she might run or fight.
But she was planted much like the stag, her chin rising like how one would command respect without meaning too, as if it were second nature to look down at those who deemed themself higher than others.
“Daenerys Stormborn, of the House Targaryen”
She was firm with her words the same way she knew Missandei taught her to whenever she wasn't present to present her, but made sure to keep enough hidden when she didn’t have anyone to ensure her safety. “State your name Sir"
Baelor was almost frozen in shock. A peculiar thing for a man who thrived on being able to expect anything and everything from people. This woman in front of him, wasn’t some distant family member he had met in the past, she wasn’t even distantly related.
She was a woman claiming to be his direct kin.
And he couldn't help but feel intrigue rather than concern.
“Baelor Targaryen,” he states cautiously taking a step towards her and the stag. “heir to the iron throne and hand of the king”
He watched her bristel slightly, her brows pressing together as her lips pursed together for a split second, as though she have struggling with the concept of him being the heir, or perhaps it was the reality of meeting a true Targaryen.
But Baelor know better. the woman before him was more Targaryen than he was just from her look alone, pale milky skin hiding under her black riding garments, the intricate weaving and threading along the shoulders catching against the loose pieces of hair they tumbled from her silver braids.
She had heard his name before in a distant memory. he was not a king from what she could recall, perhaps his brother were king? but then many Targaryen sons had been named hand of the king in histories.
‘Is that what this is? have I gone back to before Robert's rebellion?’ she thought to herself as she watched the stranger named Baelor take measured steps towards her as if she were a frightened lamb. That was until the white hart's next to her flinched suddenly from his advance towards her before bolting off in the other direction and back into the treeline
Leaving the two standing a few meer meters apart, looking at each other as they knew that their existence and all they knew were about to change.