PLEASE READ! author's note - so hi guys, i'm back! it's been a hot minute since i've written anything to do with fanfiction, but new year, new goals, and by FORCE i will finish this story! however, there are some things to keep in mind going forward: firstly, i have abandoned the intricate plan i made for this fic. i have always been a writer who followed a plan made beforehand, but i think that's what made fanficiton become less and less fun for me because it felt like work, so now i'm simply going to write freely. so if you notice plot holes and such as a result, please try to ignore them and enjoy the content :) secondly, this is a slow burning fic, so there are many more chapters left in me. even after the battles are over, i have plenty more ideas for what life is like after. so be patient with me if you feel like not enough is happening fast enough. thirdly, consider tis chapter a bit of an explanation why ella can ride and control dragons, as well as see visions.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

5th of the Sixth Month of 292 AC

Viserys Targaryen

Asshai was truly the city of shadows. Viserys' skin hadn't stopped crawling since they had had the misfortune to find themselves lost in the city. He knew he should have listened to Ella when she voiced concerns about accepting travel with the sailors he'd let blow his head up with tales of fearsome Targaryens. He knew he should have remained on foot, like Ella advised, therefore should anything go wrong, they could always follow the stars and run. But he'd been stupid, and let two probably illiterate men convince him to board a ship and take him into the city of night.

Dany clung to him like a leech. Usually he only tolerated her physical clinginess when they were short of food and the comfort of a hug took away the bite of hunger, but in that instance, he welcomed the feel of her small body pressed up against his side. Viserys had been a fugitive for nearly ten years. He'd seen many a terror, and yet never been half so afraid as he was in the eerily quiet city of Asshai.

"Where's Ella?" Dany murmured, startling her brother as she hadn't spoken since they set foot on that damned ship.

"Finding food," Viserys muttered, pulling her closer to him as a group of cloaked men passed them.

"At least the Usurper can't find us here," she offered. "He probably doesn't even know this place exists."

"Shh," Viserys hissed. "We can't let them know who we are."

"But you always tell people who were are," she frowned. "Because they'll want to help us – "

"Not here," he hissed. "Not with these people."

That quietened Daenerys. If Viserys, notoriously fond of exclaiming to any and all of his impressive family and right to rule Westeros, was willing to hide his identity, Dany was sure Asshai was dangerous.

A few hours passed, before Dany once again asked after their companion.

"I don't know," Viserys snapped, as he too, unwillingly fretted over the girl.

"Then we should look for her."

"And get lost ourselves? Have you perchance seen where we are?" Viserys demanded.

"Would you leave me then if I got lost?"

"Of course not, don't be stupid."

"This isn't different," Dany protested. "Please let's look for her."

Viserys bit his lip, his forehead creasing into worry lines. Sometimes he wondered how Daenerys had managed to turn out so sentimental and soft, when he, the person who had raised her, was anything but. Of course he wanted to look for Ella. The money her family sent was more than useful. Her knowledge about seemingly everything was also, quite handy. Having someone to help out with Dany too, especially during those hungry weeks, was nice. And maybe he liked her humour. The way she rolled her eyes. And maybe he might miss having someone his own age to talk to. Plus, if he returned to Westeros without her, her family might rebel.

Yet, Viserys wasn't sure he'd have had the courage to venture out and actually look for Ella without Dany's piercing, judgemental gaze. He wasn't sure he wouldn't have just fled the city without her had he been alone and not dependent on her family's money. But Dany wanted to look for the Ella simply because it was right. Because she liked Ella. Because Ella was good.

"Come then," he ordered.

And the two Targaryens left the relative safety of the hut they'd been sheltering in.

xxx

Ella Tyrell

She shouldn't have accepted the offer for help.

That was rule one of living on the streets.

But she'd tripped and broken her ankle and in the blur of the pain, the offer of medical assistance from some stranger with a lilting accent hadn't seemed so dangerous.

"Thank you, my lady," Ella had said. "Just some ice will do. My brother will want me home before dark."

"It is always dark here, child." The woman laughed, wrapping her warm palms around Ella's ankle. "And I am no lady either. How old is your brother, child? Why would he allow you to roam the streets alone? Have you not noticed there are no children here?"

Ella had done more than noticed. She had known there would be no children here. At least, no free children. Willas had had little information on Asshai, which in itself was a warning away from the city, but the small amounts he'd found had been enough to ensure Ella would never voluntarily go there. And though she hadn't know this is where those sailors planned to take them, she should have still refused to board that ship. She knew better. But refusing to board would have meant being stranded in Pentos, alone, without Dany or Viserys.

"I'm not a child, my lady," Ella hurried to say, relishing in the pain alienating at the woman's touch. "Where I'm from, I'm old enough to wed and have children."

"And how old would that be?"

And though Ella desperately wanted to lie, knew she needed to lie, and was sure she meant to tell the woman seventeen, she found her tongue saying the words, "thirteen, my lady, fourteen on the morrow."

xxx

The pain in her ankle had gone, only to be replaced by an excruciating burning sensation all over her body. Ella didn't even know if she was still screaming. She couldn't feel her mouth. All she could hear was that woman — that witch — chanting in a combination of High Valyrian and some unfamiliar language.

"My brother will come for me!" Ella wasn't sure if she said these words or merely thought them, but she whichever, she repeated them over and over again.

xxx

Viserys Targaryen

He didn't how he found her. How he recognised her screams. How he calmly told Dany to wait outside and handed her his dagger to use if someone thought to approach her.

He didn't know how he remained calm as he faced Ella tied up and suspended over a large fire, gagged, and quite clearly beaten. How he didn't tear the woman chanting over her apart, piece by piece.

"A dragon rider," the woman said in hushed tones when she saw him. "Blood of old Valyria." She turned to Ella. "Is this your brother young one?"

Suddenly, the gag fell from Ella's mouth and fell and dissolved in the flames. "Yes," she gasped. "My brother. I told you he would come for me!"

The pain and exhaustion and fear in her voice jolted Viserys to action. He aimed a rock at the witch's head, and as she fell in pain, he rushed to untie Ella. She trembled in his fumbling hands as he hastened to free her, and wept into his shirt when they both fell to the floor. She kept whispering, "You came, you came, you came."

And it hurt each time when he remembered that he wouldn't have. Not if Dany hadn't forced him too. What kind of king was less courageous than his baby sister? What kind of man would leave his friend to face such a fate alone?

"Let's go," He ended up having to carry her, shocked at how little she weigh.

"The spell is incomplete," the witch called from where she lay, nursing her head wound. "I must keep her here until dawn whence she becomes fourteen! She will be haunted forever by what the Lord of Light deems fit if I don't finish the spell! Targaryen blood will only keep it at bay for so long!"

Viserys fought the urge to drop Ella and bash the witch into a bloody mess. He ignored her and hobbled out with Ella in his arms, glad to find Dany dutifully waiting where he'd left her, dagger hidden in her dress. He almost cried when Dany's face crumpled and did the same. "Who did this to her?" She demanded sounding decades older than her measly nine years.

"A witch. We must leave. This magic is dangerous."

"She has to pay," Dany protested. "You have to kill her."

"No I don't," and it caused the young man serious pain to utter the words. "I have to save her," He enunciated, gesturing to the half-unconscious girl in his arms.

They walked for hours, getting lost endlessly. In the end, Viserys gave up and let them stop in some field. Daenerys, worried as she was for Ella, still fell asleep instantly, snoring softly against his side. Ella simply lay across his lap lifeless as a doll. Not snoring, not moving, not sucking her thumb as she usually did in her slumber.

Viserys craved sleep. His bones ached, his mind ached, his stomach ached. But all he could do was watch this Westerosi girl laying on him and will her to move.

Eventually she did. Noisily. Frantically throwing out her limbs, crying for her brother.

"You're safe," Viserys soothed her. "I've got you." He wondered if it would be appropriate to stroke her knotted hair.

Her eyes were wide as she looked around wildly, until at last, she was assured they were alone and she was not currently being burned for some ritual. "H-how?"

"I don't know," he replied. "We're leaving as soon as Daenerys is rested enough for the walk."

"How?" She repeated. "We don't know where we are."

"We're leaving," Viserys answered firmly. "If we don't, I will burn down this entire forsaken city. And that might not bode well for staying inconspicuous."

He was saddened not to hear even a chuckle leave her lips. "I want to leave now. I'll carry Dany."

"Ella—"

"Please. I want to leave now."

He sighed. "Fine. I'll carry Dany."

Ella did not even wait for him to pick his sister up before she was on her feet, hobbling away. What an awful birthday, Viserys thought.

30th of the Sixth Month 300 AC

Lady Ella Tyrell

"Aegon?" Ella gasped. "Then you must be - " she did the math as quickly as she could, and traced the Targaryen family tree in her head. "Aemon," she breathed suddenly. "You're Aemon! You're their uncle!" She exclaimed.

Aemon smiled a sad, soft smile. "Great-uncle," he corrected her.

"Aren't you excited Maester? You must meet Dany! We'll send for her immediately - " then a thought dawned on her; perhaps the very same thought that had been dawning on Aemon too. "All this time," Ella said.

Aemon nodded, shame evident in every crease of his face. "I was too old, too frail," he said. "I was bound by my vows."

"We … " her voice tailed off. "We starved. And suffered. And - and I - Vis would have loved to have his kin. We could have done things so much better with you!"

Aemon shook his head resolutely. "No child, everything was as it was meant to be. The young king did well. You, did well."

"We were alone," Ella argued. "It would have been better with you."

Aemon had the nerve to chuckle at her. "You flatter me, my lady. But you would not have wanted to lug around a tired, blind old man. I am glad that they had you. Aegon would have liked you, I should think. Our mother too."

The admission took Ella by surprise, her protestations died on her lips. "He'd like to hear about your mother. And Aegon."

"I could tell him of Rhaegar. He came to visit me many years ago. Twenty, I should think, he did not let Aerys know. Poor Aerys. He came and spoke to me of prophecies. He wanted more children but his Elia was so frail. He wanted me to visit the capital - inspect her myself. I had to decline. I was no longer his uncle, just a Maester at the Wall."

Ella bit her lip against the exceedingly dismissive words she had about Aemon's dedication to the vows of the Night's Watch. She understood honour, and the need for an order that was removed from the politics of the land. But why must they stop a brother from rescuing his sister? An uncle from nurturing his niece? She knew Jon Snow would never forgive himself for standing by as Sansa was passed around like a parcel amongst Westeros' most ineligible bachelors. For not returning to the side of his brother, the last King in the North. And she knew Aemon would never forgive himself for not returning to King's Landing. For not helping Rhaegar or raising Vis, or becoming king in place of his younger brother, Egg.

"He would like that," she said instead. "As would Dany. I will send for her. And she will bring Rhaena, the babe. And her husband."

Aemon nodded in that patronising way adults frequently did, as if he had no belief whatsoever that any such events would come to fruition. "You needn't disrupt strategies of war for my sake, my lady."

Despite her frustration, and anger, and feelings of loss surrounding Aemon's refusal to help his last surviving family members, she reached out to hold his frail hands. "Yes. I do."

xxx

King Viserys III

The king had retired to the offices that had been provided for him following the impromptu discussion with Jon Snow. He hated that he still felt out of sorts, still felt shaken by the entire thing. He wanted to discuss it with Ella - especially due to the frequent visions and 'feelings' she got nowadays. Perhaps she had 'seen' something that would aid him.

He dutifully ignored why she was so suddenly gifted the supernatural sight. Ignored why it had only occured during their estrangement in Mereen. Ignored why she only saw visions of him and his future. Thinking of any pain she endured, or could endure, strangled his heart. His love for Ella had surely crept up on him, and now remained firmly rooted at the core of his being.

And yet, he remained seated. Perhaps it was good for them to have some separation, he thought, for her to seek the comfort of her own family. Dany had reminded him not be selfish with Ella in her last letter - had reminded him that not everyone had lost every last living relative. So he remained seated. And when an Unsullied soldier informed him that the Red Witch sought a private meeting, he waved her in, without even questioning why a Red Witch from Asshai thought she was entitled to speak with him. Not even thinking of the last time he'd seen a Red Witch of Asshai.

"Your grace," she curtsied lowly, her seductive voice crawling around the room. He was glad she kept at least ten paces away from him. "The Lord of Light has blessed you ahead of all others," she said.

"Perhaps next time he won't take eighteen years to do so." Viserys replied tightly.

The witch laughed, a charming, melodic laugh. "Perhaps," she conceded.

"What might I help you with?" He asked tiredly.

"Your grace," she said. "I seek to align myself personally to your cause. To offer all my aids to you. I wish to help the one the my lord has seen to greatness."

"And what about your Jon Snow?" He mocked. "Who your lord saw fit to return from death? Rumour has it he was your last prince that was promised."

Melisandre seemed momentarily shocked by Viserys' knowledge of such things, but regained herself quickly. "He still is, And I am still in support of him. You two are not mutually exclusive - in fact, I believe you two will soon share so much more than a common cause against Ramsay Bolton."

Viserys rubbed his temple. "If that is all, you may leave."

She curtsied. "Of course your grace," but as she turned to leave, she looked back, almost forgetfully, her face screwed up in faux concentration. "Your queen—"

"What of her?" Viserys snapped. No, no, no, no –

Melisandre smiled again. Her unnaturally white teeth on full display. "She is touched by a spell of darkness."

"How dare you –" Viserys rose from his chair in anger. Red, hot, anger that was dipped in shame. Surely she cannot know.

"It is true though, is it not your grace? I sense it in her. I'm familiar with the spell – I could complete it for you, if you'd like?"

"No," he ground out through gritted teeth. "Speak any more of this and I will hang you with your own pretty red hair."

The witch had the nerve to tsk at him. "I only offer my help. If the spell continues festers she will soon suffer horrendous visions. Visions she is not equipped to handle."

"She is equipped to handle anything."

"Not this, your grace," Melisandre said. "It starts off in snippets. Small moments of precognition. Sensing of the supernatural." Viserys' thoughts flew to the dreams that had plagued Ella for weeks; the 'feeling' she had had about Jon Snow; her visions of endless ice and cold. "Within the decade though, her waking hours will be filled with images of terror. She will have no peace. Even her slumber will be riddled with dreams of the past, the future. Mortals are not meant to have such sight—"

"Then why," Viserys growled. "Did one of your kind curse her with it? What happens if the spell is completed?"

"She was in my home, no? When the spell was administered? Nothing is frowned upon in Asshai. A Westerosi child with a mind young enough to be molded for the sight? One nobody would miss? A small thing," she shrugged.

"A small thing," Viserys echoed. How should I kill her? How should I ruin that city?

"Your blood though," Melisandre mused aloud. "Valyrian blood must have been used in the sacrifice which is why yours has delayed the more debilitating symptoms of the curse," she continued. "Mayhaps I should use yours when —"

"No," his voice was brittle. "No more spells, no more sorcery! You will never touch my blood. And you will never touch my Queen. I spent more money than you can fathom to make sure she doesn't ever remember that day, or that fucking witch. Consider any acts of magic towards her banned in my kingdom."

Melisandre made to move toward him, place a hand upon his arm, as if he was easy to seduce as the other king she'd made her toy. He grabbed her wrist and held it hard. He made it hurt. "I will hear none of this ever again."

She looked up at him with wide, blue eyes. "Of course, you grace. Just know, when she begins to suffer, I will be at your disposal to help."

"Get out."

And thank fuck, she did. Once the door firmly shut behind her, a lone hot tear slid down the king's face. Melisandre had opened a door of his past he'd managed to keep shut for years. After that event with that witch, Ella hadn't been the same. She constantly looked over her shoulder. She wouldn't go anywhere alone. She shook uncontrollably and burst into tears at random intervals. She screamed in her sleep and stuffed her ears with dirt to silence the voices she heard in her head. Frankly, she terrified him and Dany. And it had been all his fault. He had brought them to that city. He had let a thirteen year old girl wander alone begging for food so he didn't have to face his mistake. He had waited hours before rousing himself to search for her.

So when they'd gotten to Tyrosh three months later, and he'd met that whore whose mother claimed to study the magical arts and who was also, helpfully, loyal to the House of Targaryen, he asked her for anything that would rid Dany and Ella of any memory of that day. Begged her. Paid her all the money they had. All the money he'd managed to steal. Given her what ever treasures he could bare to part with. And fed his sister and Ella the herbs that put them to sleep. And watched, with worry, as some whore's mother banished every last day of the last three months from their minds.

They starved very long after that. Ella was furious he'd spent all their money on a whore and refused to speak to him for days. Dany walked around with a look of disorientation on her face for weeks. The two of them effectively ignored his existence until they moved on and they managed to find shelter with an old Valyrian couple.

But no-one screamed in the night. No-one shoved dirt into their ears. Nobody shivered in fear at the mere sight of women dressed in red-like clothing. And so, all was well.