𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐇𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟
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___𝔄s night crept across the sky, the domain of dragons was splashed with the shades of tangerine orange, plum purple, and molten gold, casting the lands below in a peaceful-golden hue.

A mumbling hush overcame the courtyard of Xaro Xhoan Daxos' manse, glittering in the setting sunlight, as the gathering of wealthy merchants to welcome the last Targaryens, and their dragons, to glorious Qarth came to it's ending.

The cool breeze of the night that left gentle caresses across revealed skin carried the words spoken between the few guests remaining as Xaro Xhoan Daxos walks with the Targaryen Twins through one of the spacious and luxurious halls of his vast manse.

Torchlight illuminates the Qarthian's dark skin and the Targaryens' porcelain, inhumanely beautiful faces as the twins' host speaks in the silence encompassing the three, looking to Daenerys Stormborn.

"So tell me, how long has your manservant been in love with you?"

Daenerys softly scoffs beneath her breath, glancing up at Xaro with a lifted brow as she walks between her sister and the Qarthian, whom towers over the twins with his tall stature.

"He's not our manservant, and he's not in love with me. He's our advisor. Our friend."

"Unlikely. I can almost always tell what a man wants."

Rhaenaerys hums curiously to herself, beautiful face giving away to nothing she felt as she keeps her sharp as steel Valyrian eyes forward whilst she asks their host, "And what about what a woman wants?"

As the Qarthian stops, so do the ethereal Targaryen Twins. Stood side by side, they tilt their necks to look up at Xaro as he responds, "Much more complicated. You, for example, what do you want?"

Rhaenaerys quirks a brow, "To cross the Narrow Sea and take back the Iron Throne." Fire was behind her breath as she spoke.

"Why?"

"Because we promised our khalasar we would protect them and find them a safe home."

A swift chuckle bounces the Qarthian's wide chest. "You want to conqueror the Seven Kingdoms for the Dothraki?"

Before her younger twin could spew fire at their gracious host whom saved them from the ruthless and unforgiving Red Waste, Daenerys spoke up. "We want them because they're ours by right. The Iron Throne is ours and we will take it."

"Conquerors." Xaro Xhoan Daxos smirks, a gleam of . . . something within his dark eyes that unnerved Rhaenaerys Targaryen.

  But a smirk lifts the corners of her lips as Rhaenaerys gestures to the gold statue embedded with all the jewels in the known world behind him, "And how did you get all of this? Did someone give it to you?" She lifts a dark brow, feigning ignorance when the young Targaryen very clearly knew the answer.

   "No." The Qarthian does not break the connected stares of their eyes as he continues. "I come from nothing. I hit the docks like a piece of cargo, except someone normally cares what happens to cargo."

  'Tis the Stormborn to respond. "So you wanted more than you had and you took it. You're a conqueror, too. You're just – " A soft grin lifts a corner of her lips. " – less ambitious."

   The Qarthian only chuckles, as if knowing something the beautiful and fierce twins before him, the Mothers of Dragons, did not. A crease forms between Daenerys' lovely brows, "What do you want, Xaro Xhoan Daxos? At the gates of the city, you bled for us. Why?"

   Xaro Xhoan Daxos only offers his hand, "Let me show you why."

                                           ❁ 𓃗 ❁

     The teeth-grinding sound of steel skidding across stone bounces against the walls as Xaro Xhoan Daxos thrashes his thin sword across the thick, bronze door glittering with gold that guards his vault of wealth.

   "The door to the vault is made of Valyrian stone. The hardest steel does not make a mark."

   Returning his sword to the sheath stitched unto his belt, the Qarthian turns to look at the Targaryens as he continues. "I offered the greatest locksmiths in Qarth their weight in gold if they could break into it. I made the same offer to the greatest thieves." A smirk curls his lips, "They all went home empty handed."

   Xaro, then, lifts the circular pendent , gold with green jewels, attached to the golden chain dangling around his neck into his palm for the Targaryen Twins to see. "The only thing that can open this door is this key."

   "And behind the door?" Daenerys Stormborn tilts her head curiously, but only a chuckle leaves Xaro Xhoan Daxos' smirking lips and the pair of purple eyes looking up at him gleam with sudden realization to the copious amounts of wealth that must lay hidden behind the round, bronze door.

   "And it can all be ours?" The Stormborn approaches the door, tracing the cool stone with the tips of her fingers.

  "All? Let us say half. More than enough to buy horses, ships, armies, enough to go home."

   Rhaenaerys Targaryen, knowing no amount of wealth ever comes without it's hefty price, looks up at the so gracious Qarthian man. "And all we have to do..." She trails off for him to state the price she does not know.

   "Is marry me, Princess Rhaenaerys Targaryen."

   The younger of the twins scoffs in amusement. "Well, that was a romantic proposal."

   "I already married once for love, but the gods stole her from me."

   A sorrow roams Rhaenaerys' eyes, she knew what it was for something beyond the mortal men to take away someone she loves. She would not wish that cruel fate upon anyone, not even the Lannisters.

   "I come from nothing. My mother and father never owned a pair of shoes, but marry me and I will give you the Seven Kingdoms and our children will be princes and princesses."

   A smirk curls the Qarthian's lips. "See? I have more ambition than you thought. The time is right, Daenerys and Rhaenaerys Targaryen, First of your Names. Robert Baratheon is dead."

   The Targaryen Twins loose their breath, enviously long lashes fluttering as they share a look that says everything words will not.

   The time has come, to take back what is theirs.

                                           ❁ 𓃗 ❁

     "If you cross the sea with an army you bought and a foreign husband who paid for it — "

   "The Seven Kingdoms are at war with one another." Daenerys Stormborn interrupts Ser Jorah Mormont. "Four false kings destroying the country."

   Within the last Targaryens shared bedchamber in Xaro Xhoan Daxos' luscious manse, stood the twins, themselves, with their most trusted advisor, Ser Jorah the Andal, arguing over what the Qarthian told and offered to them.

Whilst the Stormborn stood beside the round, metal table with four cushioned chairs, arms crossed atop her chest as she sternly stared down the Northerner, the younger Targaryen releases the hatchlings from their carriers rested atop another table, at the foot of the bed, pushed against the wall.

All four eagerly chirping as they climb up her awaiting arms unto her shoulders, or resting in the crook of her elbows as she turns around to face her sister and their advisor.

"To win Westeros, you need support from Westeros."

"The usurper is dead." Rhaenaerys cuts in as Drogon and Rhaegal perch upon her shoulders, Rhaellon and Viserion settling comfortably in her arms. "The Stark brothers fight the Lannisters. The Baratheons fight each other."

"According to your new friend who earned your trust by cutting his hand?"

The white hisses as her mother-dragon counters the Mormont's words, "The time to strike is now. We need to find ships and an army or we'll spend the rest of our lives rotting away at the edge of the world."

   "Rich men do not become rich by giving more than they get." The Northern knight advises calmly as he attempts with all his might to soothe the eager fire of the Targaryen Twins demanding they return home now and give them the wisdom against rash actions that will only hurt them in the end. "They'll give you ships and soldiers, and they'll own you forever. Moving carefully is the hard way, but it's the right way."

   "And if we'd listened to that advice outside the gates of Qarth, we'd all be dead by now."

   Ser Mormont only expels a sigh at the younger twins words. He will not deny Rhaenaerys spoke the truth, but she must see this is not the same, both of the Targaryens must see this.

   "I know the opportunity before you seems like the last you'll ever have, but you must understand – "

   "Do not speak to us like we are children." Rhaenaerys growls through clenched teeth, the black hissing.

   "I only want – "

   "What do you want?" Daenerys Stormborn finally raises her voice, desperation filling her beautiful eyes. "Tell me." She just wants to go home.

   "To see you on the Iron Throne."

   "Why?"

   "You have a good claim, a title, a birthright. But you have something more than that, the both of you. You may cover it up and deny it, but you have gentle hearts. You would not only be respected and feared, you would be loved. Someone who can rule and should rule. Centuries come and go without a person like that coming into the world. There are times when I look at the both of you and I still.. can't believe you're real."

   A sharp exhalation falls from Daenerys Targaryen's lips, turning her gaze away from the admiration . . . the love within Ser Jorah Mormont's aged eyes.

   Xaro Xhoan Daxos' words ring through the eldest Targaryen's mind at that moment as silence overcomes the Targaryen Twins' bedchamber. Just as soon as the memory invades her mind, Daenerys casts it away back into the sea of thoughts swirling across her mind.

   She has more pressing matters to attend too at the moment.

   Therefore, without looking at the knight, Daenerys breaks the silence. "So, what would you have us do, as our advisor?"

   "Make your own way. Find your own ship. You only need one. The allies we need are in Westeros, not Qarth."

   "And how do we get this ship?"

   "I'll find it for you. A sound ship with a good captain."

   'Tis then that Daenerys Stormborn turns to look at her protector, fire swirling within those eyes of hers. "I look forward to meeting him."

   And with a bow of respect accompanied by a, "Khaleesi." Ser Jorah Mormont takes his leave.

   The curtains above the glass-less windows concealing the bedchamber from the world beyond sway with the cool breeze as the twins, without saying a word, dress themselves for slumber then lay upon the greenish-blue sheets of the bed with the baby dragons.

   Laid side by side to face one another, cheeks resting on the plush-white pillows, the Targaryens softly giggle between one another as the dragons, their dragons, such wonders beings, situate themselves.

   Rhaellon curls herself against Rhaenaerys' neck as Drogon climbs up Daenerys' stomach to lay himself on his mother's waist, content purrs tumbling from his snout, all while Rhaegal and Viserion fumble around with one another between their mothers, playing.

   Through the weeks since their children's birth, the Targaryens had come to notice the differences of each of the four dragons' personalities.

   The gold Viserion was by far the sweetest of his siblings, always the one to be nearest to his mothers, especially Rhaenaerys. Some days he would call out like a babe for his mothers when he felt they'd been gone for too long.

   Rhaegal the green was the calmest and the quietest of his siblings, like a silent observer awaiting for the opportune moment to pounce.

   Drogon the black-and-red was the protector, always puffing out his chest and spreading his wings as he hissed at any weary threats to his family.

   The white Rhaellon was surely the liveliest of her brothers, hissing and chirping all hours of the day, and nipping at her brothers' scales until one of them finally gave her attention, or played with her. But there was never a doubt she was the fiercest of her siblings, puffing out smoke whenever an unfamiliar face came far too close to herself or her family for her liking.

   Though, all the dragons were sweeter than lemon tarts and demanding when it came to their mothers' love and attention.

"Though, I do not wish for you to marry a man
we've just met, Do you believe we are making the right decision to reject Xaro Xhoan Daxos' offer, Rhae?"

A soft sigh falls from Rhaenaerys' lips as she lifts her hand to begin stroking the smooth scales of Rhaellon, whom chirps at her mother's touch. "I know it, Dany. Ser Jorah is right. If I marry Xaro Xhoan Daxos, I sell myself to him, and even if we reclaim Westeros with an army he bought, he'll still own me for the rest of our lives. And I will not allow that for myself."

"Neither will I, Rhae."

A smile blooms across the younger twin's ethereal face and she leans over to plant a gentle kiss to Dany's head, whose eyes flutter close to savor in the delicate touch of her twin sister's she dare not think to live without.

Daenerys Stormborn does not exist without her sister, and Rhaenaerys Targaryen does not exist without hers.

Gazing upon their magnificent dragons, a silence overcomes the twins' bedchamber only filled with the chirps and hisses of the playing hatchlings, the distant chatter of the city that never slept and the calls of all the exotic birds within Qarth.

'Tis then that Rhaenaerys remembers the woman she met just some hours ago.

"I met a strange woman today. Her name was Lazos Lysar, I believe."

"Strange, how, Rhae?" Dany questions, her brows bent in curiosity as the green and gold hatchlings began to settle.

"Her words. She spoke that.. the fire within me will call to the whose bones welcome ice." When she spoke, it were as if her words were not her own, purple eyes so faraway. "The wolf of midnight fur and eyes of ice, the one who walks in dreams, will come to me as a man born from ice."

The younger twin's lashes flutter, seemingly coming out of a trance, it appeared. Viserion chirps, nuzzling his glittering snout against his mother's smooth cheek before he climbs onto the pillow and curls up beside her head. Rhaenaerys expels a soft breath.

"Do you think it perhaps connects with the wolf you've been seeing in your dreams?" The older twin's words are softly spoken in the space between them, as she caresses Rhaegal's gleaming scales as he slips into a peaceful slumber beside her.

"I do not know.. but somewhere within me.. screams that it does."

Silence envelopes the Targaryen Twin's bechamber, neither knowing what to say after that, and eventually the beautiful women succumb to the exhaustion of the long day and slip into the world of blissful dreams beside one another with their dragons.

                __________ ❁ 𓃗 ❁ __________

                                  ☙ Author's Note ❧

    HOLY SH*T, I'M BACK, WE'RE BACK, MY GIRLS
                     AND DRAGONS ARE BACK!!!

  I have missed this story and my babies so f'n much,
     OMG! It feels so good to finally bring out another
    chapter even if it's a shorter one, but it's something
           after MONTHS of nothing ( I'm so sorry,
                             my patient lovelies 😔 )

  More baby dragons, because I can't ever get
enough of them 🥹 and now the twins now
Robert the Ass is dead and the War of the
Five Kings is at full blast!! Whatever
will happen next? 😉😉

  Anyways, I hope you lovelies enjoy this
update after months and still know that I
am not abandoning this story ( it's my
baby, my firstborn 🥰 )