70 -||

The Next day

The following morning the Westerosi accompanied Lord Azrubên as he endeavoured to guide the Elven maidens through Osgiliath, and though the day was pleasant, they hadn't forgotten the old Steward had given Galadriel's chambers closest to Jon.

Galadriel and Írimë were mounted upon a white stallion, and with them was Lord Azrubên, escorted by a dozen knights.

The whole city was excited to learn that a group of elves would live among them... The inhabitants remembered the faraway days when the ports of Anduinë were visited by the elves of Tol Eressëa, who instructed their ancestors before the shadow fell upon Númenor. Many were gladdened by their coming; some threw flowers at the feet of the horses or composed poems of the beauty of the elves.

The people of Osgiliath eyed the Princesses of the Noldor with fascination, and more than one man gazed at them with ill-concealed desire.

The beautiful elves knew that, but they did not pay attention to those minor and vulgar men; instead, they looked over the city; it was fairer than they remembered, and while the mark of the beloved was subtle, there was little doubt who ruled here.

The men of Osgiliath were tall and fair, clad in hauberks that shone as if they were wrought of silver untarnished their shields were long and tapering overlaid by the craft of elven smiths with plates of metal, strong yet thin as foil, and their swords glinted like the frost upon the moon. Indeed they resembled the great men of the Edain when they marched to war many Ages ago.

Even the elves that accompanied them spoke gaily of the valiant arms of the Númenóreans; indeed, Galadriel was certain she heard a drop of envy in the voices of her captains.

"This City is more magnificent than the last time I saw it…." Írimë said with a sigh.

"Thank you for your words, my Lady… I must admit that Prince Jon has, proven to be a skilful leader; he loves Gondor and its people, always seeking the betterment of the city, chiefly in the arts of smithing and masonry," said the old Steward happily.

"Jon will be delighted by your words, my Lord", Galadriel said smiling, but the old Steward's countenance soured.

"Although it would be a great boon if our Prince weren't so forceful when training the soldiers, " Said the old Numenorean rousing the curiosity of the Noldorian Princesses.

"What does my Lord speak of?" Írimë inquired, eager to know about Jon.

"Well, you see, my Lady… Since Lord Baelon established himself as Prince of this City… He aided us greatly in the defence of this city, be it forging arms or drilling the soldiers; at first, it seemed a great boon, then my lord strode into the tiltyard and well."

"Say no more… how many has he injured?" Galadriel asked, sighing, remembering how savage her lover was in battle.

"More than half… I must admit, Lord Baelon's skill is as masterful as it is terrifying; considerable soldiers have been injured after training with Lord Baelon, but others who are very impetuous train with the thought of achieving glory by defeating him… Oh, poor fools, many are far too proud for their own good," The old man said pitifully while the beautiful elves looked at each other with resignation.

"My Nin Mel doesn't learn his lesson either... Although I'm surprised that he's thought of favourably after besting so many of them," Írimë said, wholly aware of his temper.

"Prince Baelon is quite charismatic; when he joins our soldiers in drills and practices, he sleeps where they sleep, eats what they eat..."

"Smoking too, it seems..." Galadriel growled after peering into Azrubên's mind.

"That habit is part of our culture, my Lady... So, it is not unexpected that our Prince joins us in this pleasurable pastime," said the old Steward, unaware of the anger he provoked in the beautiful elves.

"You said something about some of Jon's experiments and secrets..." Galadriel said, desiring to change the subject, but she had every intention of punishing Jon when he returned chiefly for indulging in that foul weed and making her act the fool for dressing in such a way.

"Yes… Lord Baelon has shared some of his knowledge with our blacksmiths to better our weaponry… But despite his generosity, he is quite reserved when he forges…." Lord Azrubên said wearily.

At that moment, Írimë and Galadriel stared at each other, understanding that they were of the same mind… long had their beloved tarried in Khazad-dûm, and it seemed he had learned much from the Dwarves, chiefly their propensity for the hoarding of lore.

"I know very well that my Nin Mel is someone sullen and reserved, but… " Írimë said, bewildered by Jon's recent acts.

"Perhaps he is planning something, auntie…." Galadriel mused in a low voice, rueing that her beloved Wolf was unpredictable.

"I have no doubt, my Lady Galadriel, as my men have told me that on some nights, Prince Jon summons his dragon and sets out alone; a few peasants report that he ventures to the White Mountains. I believe he has constructed a forge there to experiment with dragon's fire," Lord Azrubên said excitedly as he thought of the Valyrian arts that could enrich the Dúnedain.

"I would like to know what my beloved dragon is doing belowground," Írimë said inquisitively.

"I am sure that it is for some momentous pursuit and that it will benefit Osgiliath, but the purpose of such experimentations is unknown to us, and Lord Baelon has not revealed anything to his family nor to me, indeed, save for Rhaella, no one knows of the forge," said the old man wearily; this aroused their curiosity it wasn't like their wolf to keep such things from his family.

"It seems our beloved has become solitary as the dwarves, but why keep such secrets from us? Does he not trust us?" The Princesses thought gloomily; it seems that they must keep a keener eye on their beloved.

They were beginning to look out for a place off the road, where they could picnic, when they heard a sound that aroused their ire: the noise of hoofs behind them. They looked back, and suddenly into view came a grey gelding weaving through the crowd its rider was a lad of ten winters who, upon seeing them galloped to meet them.

The boy laboured to speak; his eyes wide "My Lord Azrubên…."

"Who are you to stand before the Nobles of Valinor so brazenly?... SPEAK QUICKLY, OR I'LL HAVE YOU FLOGGED!" Azrubên bellowed, furious at the lack of courtesy shown before the Lady of Edhellond and her aunt.

"I beg your pardon for my rudeness, my Lord, but something terrible has ensued… Messengers arrived from the Havens of Pelargir, The Corsairs of Umbar did indeed attack with a mighty fleet much larger than supposed, but they not only plundered the havens, many fell, and there are many hundreds wounded..." The young messenger said as everyone held their breath.

"What else happened?" Galadriel asked fearfully, unable to discern his thoughts.

"Answer the Lady's question…." Azrubên said, his face pale.

"My Lord, my Lady… Queen Rhaella and her daughter Princess Daenerys were taken as prisoners by the Ar-Adûnâim… They were taken to Umbar… Those who brought us this dire news apprised us that they had previously sent messengers to Emyn Arnen; our Prince should know soon."

In that moment, they heard three thunderous roars, and all looked skyward; even in the cool sunlight of mid-day, few but elvish eyes would have marked them three great winged shapes so vast they swallowed Osgiliath in their shadow as they sped away Southward.

"The motto of House Targaryen is "Fire and Blood" … Those foolish Corsairs have brought this upon themselves and the Southrons tis a cruel fate the South shall be consumed it fire this day." Galadriel brooded sadly.

"Unfortunately, my Ladies, our ride ends here… We must prepare an assault against Umbar…." The Steward said wearily, and they nodded.

"We will help you as much as we can, my Lord..." Írimë said, worried about Jon and his family, fervently wishing to be by his side at that time.

"Thank you, my Lady… I hope Prince Jon does not do something rash," Lord Azrubên said.

"It's too late for that", Galadriel thought with apprehension, fearing the reprisals her beloved Wolf would bring to Umbar for their audacity.

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Hills of Emyn Arnen

About 5 days had passed since Jon had reached those Hills, and after setting up his camp in the central part of those peaceful hills, some of the men who accompanied him began to dig but unfortunately, they had not found them yet.

They were divided into many groups to hasten the work; Jon had not forgotten his obligations in the Ports of Pelargir and did not desire to waste time or face his grandmother's wrath.

After spending the whole day ploughing and digging, Jon returned to his tent, requesting his servant draw him a bath.

Meanwhile, the young Targaryen discarded his patchwork clothes and boots, freshly encrusted in mud; the servant returned a moment later bearing several pitchers of hot water, which she poured into the bronze tub sitting in the corner. Jon thanked her before slipping into the scalding water, eager to soothe his wearied body.

He just needed a pipe, and everything would be perfect... but perhaps not. He had smoked a great deal already and was nearly out; it would be better to wait for the next day... That was one of the few good things about being away from his loved ones; he need not worry; they would break his pipes nor dispose of his pipe-weed.

At that moment, his eyes turned to his other possession, the Helm of Hador and Ghal-Maraz of all his treasures; the Helm, together with the shield of Fingolfin, were those of greatest importance.

Indeed, he still had no mastery over the helm, for it was far too weighty to be used in battle even for someone of his vigour though Jon was determined to wear the heirloom of his house, for the ancient spells laid upon it were powerful he knew that any who looked upon the helm was filled with fear, but the tales of the wearers' invulnerability intrigued him greatly.

It was said power was in it that guarded any who wore it from wound and death; the sword that hewed it was broken, and the dart that smote it sprang aside. … Well, Jon would soon find out.

His loves would be so happy when they knew that he was invulnerable.

His loves, with those thoughts at that moment, Jon's thoughts were drawn towards his loved ones, his family and his loved ones... Although he may enjoy smoking without interruptions, he misses them all immensely; in a few more days, he would return to Osgiliath as soon as possible and then dwell there for as long as he was able.

He truly hoped that this wasn't some wild goose chance; he wished to discover some gold and jewels to endow some of his projects and perhaps discover the identity of those strange statues... in his heart, he felt those men would be of particular worth, especially the father and his sons.

The appearance of the statues in his vision reminded Jon of the secret he had kept from his lady loves and family, and he thought back to the night of his departure.

Flashback

Too long had he dwelt in the Halls of Durin's, and now his heart was filled with a fierce love for the Mountains and sea t'was a cruel fate though not wholly evil for he now dwells beside the great ocean and was awoken by the wailing of gulls many a peaceful morn, Alas there were no Halls of Durin's make so far South he had spent many days lamenting when suddenly felt it two familiar presences moving swift as summers wind towards Osgiliath.

They were his gryphon and his dragon... vying to see who arrived first in the City, and the prize was to be his mount for half a year; fortunately, thanks to Enerdhil's letters on the Ósanwë, he had subtly mastered the mysteries of that fabled art and could tell they were still a good ways off from the walls.

But in those moments, he must thwart the bedlam that neared his city; So swiftly, Jon went to the royal stables and called aloud, 'Come hither, my friend, I've need of you! Soon the horse came and stood before him; the stallion stood loftier than many horses of the South; his coat was dappled silver, and his hooves shod with gold. Indeed, many whispered he might have been foaled in the morning of the world. The horses of the Faithful couldn't vie with him; tireless, swift as the flowing wind. Lòmerocco, they called him the horse of twilight, so mighty was he that Oromë must have brought his sires from West over Sea.

The horse was given to him by Lord Elrond and Celebrian shortly after he departed from Annuminas to take up his position in Osgiliath; indeed, Jon suspected it was compensation for the brazier of fire he had given him before going south.

On that night, Jon needed Lòmerocco aid to thwart Vhagar and deathclaw's foolish antics.

And so, like an arrow from the bow, the great horse sprang away. As they neared the gates of the city, he saw a white shadow racing beside him; it was Ghost, his oldest companion, come to aid him once more. Jon was greatly touched that his oldest friend's loyalty had never wavered in all their long years together; alas, the mood was fairly soured by the foolishness of his other companions.

"Thoughtless and self-centred beasts… They don't care what a mess they can cause in their contests," Jon thought as he took another drag of his pipe. If they had come to Osgiliath that night, all would have gone to bedlam; the people of that city had never laid eyes upon a Gryphon, much less a fully-grown dragon.

Shortly Jon came to a slight slope, and suddenly into view above came Vhagar and Deathclaw; both beasts landed clearly vexed that their competition was interrupted.

Both Vhagar and the gryphon saw he was accompanied by Ghost and Lòmerocco, and although they felt Ghost a fine and respected companion, they were wholly baffled that a mere horse didn't cower before their magnificence.

Jon, for his part, was wholly furious and admonished both for approaching the city in that way because they could induce terror among the residents of Osgiliath, who were unaccustomed to creatures of Dreams and legends to spring to life out of the grass. Vhagar merely snorted at his scolding and blew soot upon him and Lòmerocco.

But the imposing steed merely brayed in vexation wholly unimpressed, which riled Vhagar, and he understood why his companions were so bothered ... both were oftentimes vying to be his mount, and before them stood a new adversary.

Although he had been amused by their jealousy, there was little he could do save scolding them as children, yet this duel of beasts wasn't the queerest part of that night far from it; Jon looked westwards where the White Mountains stood; he thought it best to investigate this queerness in his heart and swiftly mounted Deathclaw who bore him into the sky with eagerness.

As Deathclaw bore him ever higher, Jon felt the chill of autumn seep into him; after several moments, they crested the clouds below which the grim flanks of the White Mountains towered up invisible in the gloom; fortunately, Vhagar illuminated the gloaming with deluges of emerald flame casting many dancing shadows upon the cliffs below.

Although Jon did not know what drew him to the peaks of the Mountain… indeed, it was merely a queer feeling; as far as he knew, were barren… But in those moments, he felt something… Something familiar… And since there was no one around to trouble him, he reasoned that this little adventure would do him good.

He finally came to the summit of the mountains, tall and sheer, and no living things came there save birds.

At first, he thought he had been mistaken; there was nothing here save snow and aged wood, but Jon saw a small cleft covered by hanging ice; it was a cave of some kind though there was nought he could see beyond the opening it was too dark. Although fortunately, Jon found a bundle of dried faggots and took a single branch from the pile. He glanced at Vhagar, who grumbled and set it alight, which caught the ends of his beard and clothes.

He swiftly put out his beard and tunic, then noticed Vhagar and Deathclaw grumbling in laughter.

"I'll pay you in kind, you foolish animals", Jon swore.

Jon quickly made his way down the path when suddenly the roof sprang high and far beyond the reach of his torchlight. A white glimmer could be seen coming through some opening far above, and the air was sweeter and warmer than outside. In those moments, he felt as if he was in Khazad-Dûm again; in this place shall he abide and construct a forge to rival that of any Dwarven Mansion.

"This place… It will be mine from now on… Here I will be able to persist in my reflections on the Sciences of Aulë and the power of Vhagar… Away from prying eyes… But I will need help; building a forge by myself would take a lot of time, and that is something that I no longer have."

With this in mind, he left the cavern and endeavoured to return to Osgiliath, and after much contemplation, Jon thought to ask Magni for aid.

In the final letter the son of Thurimar had sent him, Magni told him of his settling in the White Mountains; he also spoke of finding a great horde of silver and steel, a rather amiable start to a dwarven hold if Jon was to be the judge.

And so it was, the next day, Jon sent a letter to his great friend telling him of the cavern he discovered and how he desired to turn it into a forge.

For the next few days, he had awaited Magni's response, yet no Raven came; as the days wore on, he became anxious until it was glimpsed by all, including his grandmother; she had taken him aside after the council had concluded and began questioning him. so he had relented and told her of the cavern he had found on the summit of Eilenaer and how he desired to build a forge there with the aid of the dwarves.

At first, his grandmother had looked at him in stupefaction, but then she snorted and walked off wholly displeased.

"By the Valar, I hope she shall not judge me too keenly" Jon had felt compassion for her in those moments; once again, he was struck by another flight of fancy, and she must manage.

The wait for Magni's response was wearisome, but it did not arrive as such; rather than a letter, a company of thirteen Dwarfs came to Osgiliath each was richly clad in shining armour and their beards tucked into magnificent belts of silver, upon their shields they bore a strange heraldry three mountains of white surmounted by a crown of silver on a field of black.

Jon knew perfectly the heraldry of all the Houses of the Dwarves and their names, yet this one was wholly foreign; in that moment, he smiled, for he knew Magni sent him aid. So Jon went to greet the dwarves in secret, sharing with them many tales and, of course, flagons of ale. And so, after much celebration, the Dwarves of Magni swore an oath to aid him provided he shared any discoveries, to which Jon, gladdened to have their aid, accepted without hesitation.

In a few days, they converted that cavern into a spacious and comfortable forge altogether suited to his needs; bright torches hung on the wall, and the dwarves brought several anvils of altering proportions and form alongside a dozen kilns indeed, he was reminded of the skill of the Dwarves when they remade the stream into a quenching reservoir, as well as a great chimney to draw out any smoke from the cooling metals.

Knowing Jon's character as a loremaster, they prepared a small desk and shelf for him to arrange his books. The cave became a refuge where Jon could study, practice and discover the properties of dragon's fire and perfect his skilfulness in the arts of the mountain fathers.

Only his grandmother Rhaella of the forge... And though many would think it cruel to keep such things from his loved ones, yet he had become as the dwarves, jealously guarding his secrets. It was here he shall practice his craft, learning the secrets of Eöl and Enerdhil, alongside his dearest Vhagar, he would discover the lost arts of the Freehold far fry the prying eyes and black hearts.

He finished his pipe before stepping out of the bath and drying himself off. Jon didn't bother to clothe himself before crawling beneath the bearskin covers and falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

---------------------------------------------

The next day

The first thing Jon heard when he woke up was the sound of several footsteps and murmurs, which meant that the men were already preparing to start the day. Indeed, the men were wholly eager to accompany him, hoping perhaps to find gold or jewels and become fabulously wealthy.

After a quick breakfast, Jon retook his place among the men earning a hearty cheer from many and numerous praises certainly it was wearing, but he bore it with pride; Jon overheard a group of boys who were no more than twenty years of age; they spoke of his achievements and ability, beginning to wonder among themselves if Jon really belonged to the line of men.

"You know, you may ask me of my life if you wish; I care little for rumour, even less for those who skulk about like burglars speak…." Jon said, without turning his back, but he heard their shovels clatter to the ground.

Jon turned to look at one of the workers. He was taller than the rest, and his hands were rough from much toil.

"What is your name?" Jon asked.

"My… My Prince…" one of them began.

"Who are you?' Jon asked, again

"I am called Hammot, son of Hamen,' he said in a low voice.

"You're youthful…." Jon said, glancing at him closely; the boy was no older than twenty-five

"I am twenty-two, my Prince…." The boy said.

"Ask then…" Jon ordered somewhat gruffly.

"Too much is said of you, that you and your family come from unknown lands beyond the East, that you were sent by the Valar as their emissary…." Hammot said.

"And that you also studied with the Shipwright and the King of Khazad-Dûm just as you met the last son of Fëanor and taught by him in melody and verse…." Another of them said.

"Stories are told of the many fabulous treasures you possess, such as High King Fingolfin's sword and shield as well as a cloak and horn made from a Worm of Morgoth, and you are friend of dragon, wolf and Gryphon…" said the third.

"That you and your kind will even outlive King Elendil and his sons, and that with the power of your dragon you may rival our Kin of the West and that you are a savage in battle and immortal… One of the Maia in human form," The latter said, and Jon watched them in silence for a few moments.

"And what do you think?" Jon asked, moving aside another mound of dirt.

"It seems you are just a man, my Prince… But there are too many witnesses to your deeds… Even some of us witnessed your resurrection in Annúminas…." Hamett said fearfully.

"That was Ilúvatar's decision as he did not consider it appropriate for me to withdraw from Arda yet... But I assure you that I am a mortal man like you..." Jon said.

"A mortal man capable of rivalling the Dwarves in the arts of forging?... Excuse me, but I never heard of such a thing, Prince Jon," Said one of the young men excitedly, and Jon found his countenance humorous.

"Tis no great achievement... I toiled many long years to become the man I am, " Jon said wearily.

"But you move like a Wolf; it is said that you can match wits and blade with Glorfindel of Gondolin," The fourth young man said in disbelief.

"When I returned from the West… I was mightier than a common man; however, I had to pay dearly for the gifts you admire so greatly… In those moments when the thrill of battle fills my heart, I am akin to a wild beast." Jon said, not losing sight of the peasants' astonished gaze.

"We didn't know…" said the second peasant.

"There a few who know the whole tale, and yet here you stand wiser now than you once were", Jon replied.

"Thank you for sharing your story with us, my Prince… It is more extraordinary than what we had been told," Said the third young man.

"Although it is also said that you have captured the hearts of numerous women, my Prince… some have whispered you charmed all the Elven maidens in Middle-Earth," The fourth young man said, and he reddened.

"Indeed, I have, but that is not a tale I shall share… Now that you've quelled your curiosity about me, go back to shovelling brats…." Jon growled.

And with that, the young men quickly began to dig again, conversing with each other more carefully, knowing that their Prince could hear them.

Jon resumed digging, and soon the day was lost, and except for occasional breaks and lunch, the situation did not improve.

The time to go to the Havens was drawing near, and it seemed that Jon had just wasted his time there, but his vision still afflicted him… He would find something there… He knew it…

He was beginning to think that it did not happen on that occasion.

Jon continued to lament over the apparent failure of his undertaking and was about to order the men to cease digging when one of the men gave a great shout of triumph.

He lept up and swiftly put out his pipe before grabbing a torch and striding to where the men stood, all looking quite pleased.

"Here's my Prince…" Hamett said, handing the glittering rock to him.

Jon's heart thumped with joy in his hands; he held one of the most beautiful metals in Arda and one that the elves particularly love above all others save Mithril.

Silver, natural silver, not Mithril, but without a doubt an extraordinary discovery.

"My beloved Shiera will be delighted," Jon thought, satisfied.

"Continue digging; let us see how much we find", He ordered, and with renewed vigour, all the men nodded and began digging with Hammet and his companions.

During the following hours, Jon and his men delved deeper and deeper into the earth, and little by little, more veins of silver appeared to the wonder of all, and soon the veins were replaced by great nuggets. Finally, after several days the flow of silver was too great, and they ceased digging, certain they had enough to fill a Dwarvish Mansion.

"I'm happy… But this was only the first part of our task now; we must count our loot and start processing it as soon as possible… then perhaps we can build a mine…." Jon said happily.

"Will my Prince build something with all this silver?" So asked Sûlchanar, a Numenorean member of a very old Faithful family who was appointed by the members of his Council as one of Jon's advisors in his company, with curiosity.

"We'll see... But for now, send messengers to Osgiliath informing that our task was a success and summon more men to work this land; I want the surrounding lands to be explored, but take care; we must preserve the beauty of this place," Jon ordered, and his men nodded.

"As my Prince orders..." Said Sûlchanar bowing.

"Let us cease our toil, prepare wild boars on the spit and fetch the beer; we have to celebrate!" Jon shouted, and a holler of joy ran through the entire camp.

"I feel that this finding is important and a portion of what I came to seek… Unfortunately, this is not the discovery that my heart warned me about, but there is nothing else… Perhaps I should send a letter to Elrond regarding my dream, I would ask my beloved Galadriel for guidance, but she is too occupied in Edhellond putting her Kingdom in order to guide me... Well, I'll see what to do with it later... " Jon thought, still lamenting that he couldn't get drunk while his men were rabblerousing and belting out merry tunes.

-------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------- ------------

Days after

All was well and good, but now he must fulfil his other obligation to meet his grandmother Rhaella at the Havens before she lost patience and pulled him out of here by his ear.

He then heard the thundering of many hooves, and in the distance, he saw five knights. After several moments they stood before them all wearied; indeed, even their mounts seemed ready to keel over. Jon went to receive them, followed by Sûlchanar and three knights.

"Who are you to stand before me? By your livery, I judge you, Knights of Prince Elendur's household, though he has not sent for me, nor have I summoned him," Jon said grimly, and the Knights bowed low.

Their leader stepped forward, a man of broad shoulders and huge girth, but old and grey-bearded, yet mail-clad and black-helmed, and he spoke in a booming voice.

"From your bearing, you must be Jon Herenlounga, also hailed as Prince Baelon Targaryen of Osgiliath,"

Jon grimaced. "Indeed, I am, forgive me friend, but your name has eluded me."

"My name is Îbal; I am an emissary of Lord Erendur and Lord Calmacil... My Lord, I come with dire news from the Ports of Pelargir..." Said the poor Numenorean, who, despite his robust figure, trembled like a frightened child because the stories of Jon's savagery and terrible character were already common knowledge among the Dúnedain of Middle earth.

Instantly Jon clenched his fists and held his temper in check with difficulty.

"What happened?" Jon said quietly.

"The ports of Pelargir were attacked... By the Corsairs of Umbar, my Prince, the scoundrels made off with great wealth, many men died, and our women and children were taken as slaves," Îbal said sadly, and for a few moments, Jon abandoned gloominess, his countenance turning to one of worry.

"Ports are supposed to be well protected against such incursions…." Sûlchanar said in shock.

Yes, my Prince our Lord, but…." Îbal replied.

"But what?... " Jon asked, grunting as he clenched his fists.

"They attacked in a strength that we had never seen before; there were ships beyond reckoning and many Southron men... Moreover, we are certain that they made a pact with the tribes of Harad my Prince; such was the might of their host," Said another of the Númenóreans.

"Survivors?"

"Your grandmother Rhaella and the Princess Daenerys survived; the ferocity of the Princess was legendary; she alone killed a dozen enemies before surrendering to ensure her mother's safety... But both were taken, hostage..." Îbal said he tried to praise Princess Daenerys's skill but was silenced when the prince snatched him by the throat.

"What are you saying?" Jon growled, his beloved Dany and his grandmother Rhaella taken hostage by those scum who disowned the Valar.

"My Prince... please..." Îbal gurgled, and Jon, regaining command, released him.

"I'm sorry, my anger clouded my judgement; what happened to Lord Erendur and Lord Calmacil?" Jon asked softly though all who heard him knew the fury in his words.

"Both are gravely wounded; each led many sorties against the traitors, particularly Lord Calmacil, who desperately tried to save your grandmother and aunt. But, alas, grim was his fortune pierced by many blackened arrows; it was only by his corselet of silver he now lives," Îbal said quieter.

"Have they sent messages to Osgiliath?" Jon asked.

"That's right, my Lord, but the fastest of us come with you... We are sorry to bring you such dark news..." Îbal said.

"Listen, if I know Lord Azrubên, he will surely send an army of soldiers to avenge what those corsairs did... And I will join them," Jon growled.

"Will my Prince go to battle?" Sûlchanar asked, surprised.

"No… I'll go to Umbar to retrieve my kin and teach the Ar-Adûnâim what it means to wake the dragon," Jon said, lighting his pipe.

"My prince?" Asked Sûlchanar thinking that he had heard wrong, but at that moment, Jon took the pipe out of his mouth; he cried in a loud voice, clearer than any there had ever heard a mortal man achieve before:

"VHAGAR!!!"

"Bring Dreamfyre and Meraxes with you… Their riders were taken by our enemies, and now we must bring ruin upon them… Fell deeds awake fire and slaughter! … And Vhagar do not tarry, not this time," Jon growled, knowing she would heed his word.

"My Prince, I must object… Everything is very rushed…." Sûlchanar said, terrified by Jon's outburst.

"Sûlchanar… You will oversee the fort in my absence, let no Southron cross the fords, or it shall be your head." With that, he returned to his tent, dawning his armour and the Helm of Hador before grabbing Ghal-Maraz and trekking to the foot of the hill to await Vhagar.

Those Black Númenóreans dared to touch his family, invade, and plunder the domains of his kin, they had brought ruin upon themselves… Now the Corsairs of Umbar and their chiefs shall learn the meaning of the words of House Targaryen… Fire and Blood.

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At that time, Rhaella was shackled to her daughter in the bowels of the ship. Her darling was wounded many times trying to defend her, and Rhaella feared if she didn't receive medicine, Daenerys would perish.

She had left with Lord Calmacil to prepare the Ports of Pelargir to receive their new shipment, but before departing Osgiliath, she was surprised that her daughter had decided to accompany her; although she was hesitant, Rhaella happily agreed, thinking nothing could go wrong after all they were accompanied by many knights and two captains of Gondor.

And she had been terribly wrong.

The Havens of Pelargir were a wonder to behold, surpassing the beauty of the Grey Havens… Lord Erendur told her that they were built to emulate the ancient ports of Andúnië and Rómenna in Númenor. She and her daughter were delighted by the splendour of the Haven yet lamented the beauty of Westernesse was lost below the waves.

In this way, they departed Osgiliath with a retinue of many knights, and Rhaella hoped that her beloved grandson would join them soon because otherwise, she would go to Emyn Arnen and drag him out by his ears.

So resigned to waiting for Baelon, for the next few days, Rhaella went with Lord Erendur and Lord Calmacil to prepare whatever was necessary to secure the goods for Osgiliath though she left military matters with Lord Calmacil, and for the most part, everything was fine and uneventful.

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Garth of the Royal Ships

One night, she and Dany were strolling through the ports enjoying the sea breeze under the moonlight, accompanied by an escort of five knights.

At that moment, the Haven Bells ring ... when far away, they saw fires spring up across in the dim spaces where the walls of the Haven stood. The watchmen cried aloud, and all men in the city stood to arms. Now ever and anon, there was a red flash, and slowly through the heavy air, dull rumbles could be heard.

'They have taken the wall!' men cried. 'They are blasting breaches in it. They are coming!'

And then she saw them they were not of Numenorean blood. They were fierce. With black eyes, long black hair, and gold rings in their ears, some had red paint on their cheeks, their cloaks and flags were crimson, and their beards plated with gold; many carried cruel looking spears or scimitars and spiked shields.

"Haradrim..." Her guards bellowed, and her eyes widened in horror the men of the South were attacking.

"Stay close to me, mother..." Dany said, drawing her daggers no doubt gifts from Jon.

"We must get you to safety, my ladies... We must return to Lord Erendur's home..." Said one of his knights.

"We have to hurry, come Dany," Rhaella said, eager to get her daughter to safety; it was then a second bell was heard, and Rhaella looed thither crying in dismay; for black against the glittering stream, they beheld a fleet borne up on the wind: dromunds, and ships of great draught with many oars, and with black sails bellying in the breeze.

'The Corsairs of Umbar!' her guards shouted. 'The Corsairs of Umbar! Look! The Corsairs of Umbar are coming!

"Ships, they attack us… Oh, by the Valar, Lord Erendur's fears were valid… Rhaella thought, frightened to see that they were being invaded by land and sea.

"My Lady, we must hurry, come!" Yelled one of the guards as he beheaded a cruel Southron.

They sped through the city, endeavouring to avoid the cruel men of the South, yet many roads lay between them and the northern gates where they may flee once more; the bells rang, hoping to rally the men to the defence of the Haven, alas they were doomed for they not only faced the black Númenóreans of Umbar but also Haradrim of the South.

"We cannot hope to escape," Rhaella thought in dismay when suddenly one of her guards wailed in anguish and fell to the ground, an arrow sticking from his eye. She was horrified but could do little for the poor man soon, they came to the centre of the town where many lay dead or dying, and they were surrounded by Haradrim wielding glittering scimitars. Dany stood before them, her eyes burning with a dragon's fury, and she took up a scimitar and shield, keen to bring these cruel savages to battle.

A cruel half-troll charged toward her. still, she did not blench maiden of the Valyria, child of kings..., fair but terrible. A swift stroke she dealt, skilled and deadly. The outstretched neck she clove asunder, and the hewn head fell like a stone.

The Southrons were filled with a red wrath and shouted aloud and came against them, and the drawing of the scimitars of the Southrons was like a glitter of stars. Dany said nothing and rushed to meet them; great was the clash of their meeting. But the white fury of the Valyria burned the hotter, and more skilled was she, cleaving through the Southrons like a firebolt in a forest and many more fled before the might of Daenerys Targaryen.

 In those moments, Rhaella thought they had won and then she let out a cry of pain when she felt a dagger pressed against her neck.

Hearing her cry of pain, her daughter and guards quickly turned to look as she was dragged away.

Seeing her mother being hauled away, Dany let out a roar of rage, but she could not give chase as she soon felt a dagger at her throat as well.

With a look of disgust, Daenerys threw down her arms as did their guards, who were swiftly slain by many arrows; soon, more men came though they were not of the Haradrim; rather, it was the Ar-Adûnâim, those men of Númenor who served the shadow they were terrible to behold clad in blackened steel and tunics of scarlet, but they had little time to ponder this as the cruel lords clapped them in irons and forced them to walk to the harbour.

As they were hauled through the city, Dany tried her best to resist them, but the Southrons were wicked people and struck the Targaryen princess about the face until her eye was blackened and her nose dripped blood.

"Leave her, dammit!" Rhaella cried, desiring to help Dany, but the guard struck her hard across the face, and she felt her mouth fill with blood.

In this way, both mother and daughter were dragged to one of the ships of Umbar, leaving behind the beautiful ports of Pelargir, which were now in flames; from afar, Rhaella could see many in chains, their masters cracking whips and barking orders as they were forced onto ships just as they were.

"They're going to take them as slaves," Rhaella thought in dismay as she and her daughter were dragged onto the carrack bound for Valar knows where.

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She had no inkling how many days had passed since their capture, yet it was a cruel fate they were forced into the bows of a great carrack alongside many other men and women, even children; worse still, day by day, their captors would come below deck a select a prisoner for what purpose she hadn't a clue, but the wretched cries filled her dreams each night.

Rhaella felt horrendous, but at least she was with her daughter; she hoped she and Dany could escape once they neared their destination.

Finally, their captors roused her and Dany by dousing them in seawater. Her daughter tried to fight back, but little food and rest was her undoing, and the Ar-Adûnâim swiftly subdued her again before dragging them onto the deck. She was dazed after so many days in the dark, yet once her sight cleared, she was welcomed by the presence of a Mighty City unlike any she had ever seen.

"Umbar," said her escort discerning her curiosity, and with that, Rhaella and her daughter looked at each other fearfully.

After the Fall of Númenor, Umbar remained in the hands of the Númenóreans and is practically a kingdom in exile alongside Arnor and Gondor. But unlike these others, Umbar has been used by the Black Númenóreans, who remain evasive and unfriendly to the Elves and their fellow surviving Númenórean Faithful.

The last Rhaella knew of these lands was that two Black Númenórean lords, Herumor and Fuinur, who were presumably born in Umbar, had become very powerful among the Haradrim, a neighbouring people. No doubt since Umbar is the closest of the southern kingdoms to Gondor.

"Move, witches... Our Lords are waiting for you," Said one of their captors, tightening their chains.

"I hope your Lords understand what you have brought to this City and to yourselves," Dany said, spitting on the floor though the guard cared little for her defiance and struck her hard across the face.

"Dany, please stop!" Rhaella cried, wanting to help her daughter being cruelly detained by her captors.

"Walk whore, or by Zigûr, I shall cut off your feet and feed you to my hounds", One of her captors barked.

The Númenorans hauled Dany to her feet before striking her again Rhaella cried in anguish but knew there was little, she could do to help her daughter, and so with a heavy heart, they were forced onto a carriage bound for the Haven.

Rhaella hugged her daughter tightly, and they wept silently.

"Don't worry, mother... Jon will save us, I know... He will avenge everything those evil men have done to us," Dany said, hugging her mother.

"My little dragon, worry not help will come soon..." Rhaella said, placing a kiss upon her daughter's brow.

What did they desire of them? Rhaella didn't know; she just hoped that she and Dany would stay alive until help arrived; Dany was right… Baelon wouldn't let this slight go unanswered.

As they were escorted through the city, Rhaella and Dany saw that Umbar was a city of great and terrible splendour; the streets were paved with blackened stone, and the buildings were shaped of marble capped with domes of glittering bronze. Everywhere they looked were men of great height their eyes were keen and grey; some adorned their beards with many jewels while others plated them with gold, and though fair of countenance and build, Rhaella could perceive the wickedness of their hearts.

After many hours of riding, they came before the largest building in the city, yet no palace it seemed: rather a lofty Mansion carved from blackest stone. At the foot of the Mansion stood a retinue of men clad blackened steel chased with gold; under this, they wore mail; their helms were tall and crested with the wings of sea birds, and about their shoulders were the skin of panthers at the head of this throng stood two men dark-haired and black-eyed, scornful, and cold of glance, clothed in decadent silks and many rings and gems.

They were fair indeed, yet Rhaella glimpsed cruelty and malice in their eyes.

"You stand before the Lords of Umbar Herumor and Fuinur... Your hosts and those who greatly desired to meet you," Said one of their captors, freeing them from their chains.

"Hosts? Oh, forgive my manners. I forget hosts want to capture their guests and clap them in irons", Daenerys muttered hatefully, and Rhaella gave her daughter a reproachful look; it would do them little good to anger these men diplomacy was needed.

The Lords acknowledged as Herumor and Fuinur approached them; their eyes glinted evilly, and they stared at her with desire.

"Welcome… Rhaella of House Targaryen and you as well Princess Daenerys… I know you must see this as an affront, and I apologise for the harm you have suffered along the way," Said the one known as Herumor.

"The slattern killed a dozen of our brothers before we took her mother in chains; there was little we could do," Said one of the pirates.

"Be silent, or I will have you gelded, and your family sacrificed before tomorrow becomes old... I'm sorry, my Ladies, you are now under the protection of the Heirs of Ar-Pharazon... Now I'm sure you wish to clean up and eat something... We shall allow it," Herumor said without humour.

"Thank you... My Lord," Rhaella said, feigning courtesy.

"I promise that at dinner, we will explain why... We called you here... For now, try to rest," Fuinur said, endeavouring to seem honourable, but his eyes betrayed the evil of his heart.

"If he were smart, you would send my mother and me on a ship back to Osgiliath at once... Foolish man, you've no idea the ruin that shall be visited upon your people... My beloved Baelon... He will take revenge for what they did at Pelargir." Daenerys said defiantly, and for a moment, Rhaella thought they would butcher Dany for such pomposity, but all the men started laughing to her astonishment.

"Have you seen the splendour of our city girl?... Our sailors are men as fierce as those of Gondor; our armies mighty and beyond counting, and our list of allies is great as well... We have heard of Baelon Targaryen and, of his deeds, bah, another puppet of the Valar he has little hope of claiming our city our walls are tall and strong and we've plenty of stores to resist a siege" Herumor said.

Hearing that Baelon was just a puppet, both mother and daughter made disgusted faces.

"Blasphemy…" Rhaella muttered, looking at the Lords of the Ar-Adûnâim with disgust.

"Well, enough... Let them take a bath and eat a little... So, it shall not be said the true sons of Númenor are poor host..." Fuinur said mockingly.

And with that, she and Dany were escorted inside the stone mansion, where they were shown to opposing chambers by the servants. They said nothing to her and swiftly threw her inside. As soon as the former Queen of Westeros heard the door close, she gave a cry of anger and hurled herself against her bed with her face shrouded in tears as she lamented her fate and that of her daughter... Why was this happening?

"Oh, by the Valar… Please let us return to our family… With my granddaughter and my companions… With my grandson, please, my Lords…." Rhaella pleaded in silent prayer.

---------------------------

After many hours of weeping and cursing her host, Rhaella was overcome by thirst and hunger as well as by the desire to take a bath. The long journey south had swathed her in filth and grime; she questioned the servants that attended her where Daenerys was, but they merely replied that her daughter would see her at dinner... something that filled her with a sense of dread though she would be near Dany, so it was not all grim fortunes.

Resigned to the fact that she would have to negotiate with those evil men, Rhaella dressed as best she could for this supposed supper... Although the former Queen perceived that those two men were plotting something most foul after all, who goes the trouble of absconding two women to invite them to dinner.

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After a few minutes, Rhaella arrived at a spacious dining chamber; at the head of the chief table sat Herumor and Fuinur and seated closest to them was Dany wearing a dress of red silk though she looked wholly unpleased and eager to gut the two Ar-Adûnâim.

Dany tried to rise and greet her, but she was forced back into her seat by two cruel looking men.

Rhaella was going to protest, then her eyes fell upon a decoration of beautiful blossoms there aroma was wholly sweet and dimmed her mind; for a few moments, she was overcome by great drowsiness and forgetfulness.

"Very well… That's enough, Lady Rhaella, please come to your senses… We all go through the same thing," Herumor said suddenly, and Rhaella felt as if she wakened from a dream.

"What do I...by the Valar what?" Rhaella questioned, disoriented.

"It was the fragrance of these flowers… A gift from our friends in the South… Though it has brought us no end of trouble not unlike those betrayers in the North I've heard," Fuinur said with amusement.

"What are those flowers?" Dany asked, wholly bewildered.

"They are... A gift or perhaps jape from the Haradrim, I can never understand lesser men... they are lovely, yet this loveliness is a veneer to mask there sinister purpose," Herumor said humorously.

"Why do they say that this flower has caused problems for Gondor? I have never seen it," Rhaella asked.

"A certain concoction is brewed with this flower with unpleasant ends for those who drink it…." Fuinur said merrily; it was then Rhaella, and Dany knew what the flower was.

"This vile plant is used to brew that damnable elixir..." Dany said, looking at that flower with distrust.

"Indeed, Princess… and If our spies spoke truly, Osgiliath suffered a similar misfortune to our own," Herumor said.

"And why not get rid of this troublesome plant?" Rhaella asked suspiciously as she sat next to her daughter.

"The poison is a great boon, taken chiefly from the flowers; it is far more potent than the one that was sold in the markets of our cities; however, in that state, it is useless as it must be diluted with other herbs or else it is deadly to the one who drinks it… It is a bitter poison but let us stop this talk of poison and death, and I shall tell you why you're here," Fuinur said.

"Why did you bring us here? My daughter and I have no quarrel with you," Rhaella said calmly.

"It's true, and we apologise for the inconvenience; those responsible have already been dealt with... we ordered them to bring you here unspoiled... Although your daughter made this wholly challenging," Herumor said, looking at a smiling Daenerys.

"The reason for bringing both of you here is simple... You or your daughter with either wed my brother or me..." Fuinur said greedily, while Rhaella and Daenerys eyed them dumbfounded.

"Excuse me?" Rhaella asked, believing she had heard wrong.

"Since the Valar called you here from your home… Westeros, I believe? Your people have attained renown among the traitors and the knife-ears, and it was inevitable that our spies bring us this news chiefly regarding your grandson, my Lady," Fuinur said.

"He slew a dragon himself, an extraordinary achievement indeed, and then to slay one of the blessed Servants of our Master alas Khamûl shall be sorely missed by our kin… " Herumor said, sipping wine.

"They haven't spoken of the dragons; this is good they've no inkling the terror that shall be visited upon them," Rhaella thought happily, and it seems Dany was of a similar mind as she was smiling gleefully.

"Furthermore, I understand that your grandson is very close to the Noldor... Having one of their Princesses as his consort..." Herumor continued speaking, but although he intended to do so with disgust, the envy in his voice was undeniable.

"That is why we must think about our Kingdom, our enmity with the Kingdoms of Elendil and their children may not be a secret, but we prefer not to make enemies of your grandson," Fuinur said.

"You have a strange way of showing it, my Lord," Rhaella said dryly.

"Our spies informed us that your grandson now rules Osgiliath, and they told us of your coming to the Havens. That's when we came up with the plot to invite you to our humble kingdom and wed you so that he shall not take up arms against us," Fuinur said.

"These men are cruel and spiteful creatures," Rhaella thought bitterly.

"Your proposal is the least romantic I've ever heard, my Lord, and my former husband was a beast", Rhaella answered spitefully as Dany played with her food knife.

"I know, and I'm very sorry, but it's necessary; besides, in a little while, you and your daughter will throw yourself at us," Fuinur said, pointing to the roses on the table, and both Dany and Rhaella felt their faces lose all colour as they understood their intentions.

"You are a…." Rhaella said, terrified.

"A Lord with a vast kingdom to rule, and I am afraid that your grandson is a menace, don't worry, we merely need to consummate the marriage and nothing else... Although if you can give me an heir, all the better," Fuinur said gleefully.

"Neither you nor your brother shall have us," Daenerys said, full of anger.

"We only need one of you, girl… should you feel so bold again, I will have you whipped and raped before the priest of Zigur sacrifice you to Morgoth," Herumor said as Daenerys and her mother covered their mouths with their hands.

"You are an animal," Rhaella said bitterly.

"And I will be a good husband to you although I think it is a bit distant... Our wedding will be in five days... Until then, you will be confined to your rooms, the servants will give you everything you like, and there will be two guards at the doorways to prevent any uproar." Fuinur snapped as Rhaella just stared into his eyes.

"This is your last warning, my Lord; send us back, and we will convince my grandson to spare your life... Otherwise, your line shall end ere the sun rises," Rhaella said sinisterly, and the brother laughed.

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5 days later

Both she and Dany had been locked up in their lots all their stay in Umbar, and despite the risk, both she and Dany had genuinely planned to escape from that horrible place, but those two men were more cunning than they thought.

In those moments, Rhaella felt so useless. If it weren't for her, her daughter might have already escaped, but the Targaryen matriarch knew that Daenerys would never abandon her, and that is why her little dragon would endure everything they did because she didn't want her to be hurt.

In those moments, Rhaella wailed in grief for her weakness; her daughter would have to go through that agony... A forced marriage like the one she had with Khal Drogo many years ago, they would be reduced to broodmares unless Jon came.

----------------------

And so, the day of that horrible double wedding arrived… Both mother and daughter had stony expressions on their faces as they walked through Umbar in shackles to the City's centre, where they had built a temple to Morgoth. It was in the form of a circle at the base, and there the walls were fifty feet in thickness, and the width of the base was five hundred feet across the centre, and the walls rose from the ground five hundred feet, and they were crowned with a mighty dome. And that dome was roofed, all with Blackstone. For there was an altar of fire in the midst of the temple, and in the topmost of the dome, there was a louvre, whence there issued a great smoke.

The very sight of this place filled Rhaella with dread, considering it blasphemy against Ilúvatar.

The knowledge that they would set foot in that horrible place and marry those disgusting men in that dark place made Rhaella want to throw up, but she had to bear it for Daenerys's sake. She was still waiting for Baelon to appear.

"He will come… I know mother, Jon will save us," Daenerys said, trying to contain her tears.

"Oh... Dany..." Rhaella said, hugging her daughter

The guards separated them and hurried them to take them to the temple doors where their "promised" were, who had a bored and gruff expression.

Seeing them, Herumor made a sign, and three strange swarthy men in purple robes nodded. Two of them took out a wooden box in which there were three darts, two crimson and the last one a deep jet green. He then looked at Dany and sneered.

"I've no wish to use these darts should you defy me; however, you shall perish; we've coated them in a great deal of poison one scratch, and you shall meet the false gods," Herumor said, mocking Daenerys, who spat in his face,

"Enough Herumor... After all, she will be your wife; all that remains is the ceremony," Fuinur said.

"You disgusting pig!!!... You will both die before this day is over... I swear to you," Daenerys promised, crying with hatred.

"Enough, young witch... Soon you will love me, and as soon as you give me a son, I will put an end to your..." Herumor began but halted when the ground began to shake.

They rushed outside to the foot of the temple; the air felt far warmer than they were accustomed to, and the great carracks were rocking to and fro, bashing into each other as if the very sea had turned against them.

"What's going on?" Herumor asked, looking up at the sky.

"I don't know…." Fuinur said.

At that moment, they heard many screams, and Rhaella and Daenerys could see three great shadows looming overhead.

"Dragons..." Fuinur said, horrified.

"To the arms!" Herumor shouted in a cold sweat while the Targaryen women began to cry with happiness their dragons had come to save them Dreamfyre and Meraxes and Vhagar

At that moment, fire leapt from Vhagar's jaw and shattered the dome of that foul temple.

Soon she was joined by her sisters at the skies were ablaze with many hues as the dragon high in the air above them, and then down they swooped straight through the arrow-storm, reckless in their rage and eager to bring battle to those who would harm their riders.

The soldiers of Umbar tried to fight them, but alas, their arrows snapped and rattled on the dragon's scales, and their shafts fell back, kindled by their breath burning and hissing into the harbour. It was then Herumor saw some four hundred of his men charge the largest dragon, and she opened her great maw unleashing a torrent of emerald flames.

The thunder of the dragon's fire was fiercer than a hurricane. The shock of the blast scorched their lungs, and Herumor gasped as those Ar-Adûnâim closer to the blast were cooked alive inside their armour, their flesh bursting into flames along with tabards, banners, and horseflesh. Hundreds died in that first barrage, their flesh kindling under the fierce heat, their blood boiling within their veins. Those directly under the impact of the fireball were unrecognisable, nothing more than charred, deformed remains that still burned fiercely. So fierce was the dragon's that plate armour ran like blood, dripping onto the ground in flaming, hissing blobs.

"Dreamfyre", Rhaella said, crying with joy at seeing her dragon.

"Meraxes", Daenerys said just as happy, but at that moment, both Fuinur and Herumor heard them.

"WITCHES!... YOU BROUGHT THOSE THINGS HERE!" Herumor yelled with a sword in hand.

"we told you to let us go… Now you shall learn the words of my house," Rhaella said evilly.

At that moment, the largest dragon descended once more and bathed their temple in emerald flames; the walls of stone began to give way as if wrought of water, and it was then they saw him.

He was tall, clad in blackened plate, upon his head, he wore a helm of great dread and in his hand was a fell hammer of ruin many fled before him; even Rhaella and Dany were stricken by fear desiring to fly even though they knew it was Jon.

The faithful of Ar-Pharazon surged forward plate clad and wielding cruel spears; they thought this warrior easy prey. But, alas, his every blow brought ruin upon them, and the brothers watched as their men fell before the warrior like wheat beneath a scythe; he turned them aside effortlessly, countering with devastating blows that splintered bones and shattered blades.

Seeing him approaching, Herumor lunged at Daenerys and grabbed her by the neck.

"Back... Back or I'll kill her!" Herumor cried in terror wholly under the spell of the helm.

But Daenerys had grown weary of this fool, and with the grace of an elf, she stamped on his foot, swiftly spun around, and removed the King of Harad's head from his shoulders.

"I told you you'd be dead before the day was over... You disgusting pig," Dany said joyfully.

"Aye, it seems they woke the dragon, dearest aunt," Jon said as Rhaella and Daenerys threw themselves at him; tears in their eyes, he smiled and embraced them before turning to Dany.

"I knew you would come for us", Daenerys said tearfully, kissing her love passionately, and he reciprocated the kiss.

"I will always come for you, Dany, always...are you well, grandmother?" Jon asked, concerned.

"Yes, I am. Please, Baelon, let us leave this horrid place..." Rhaella said, merrily

"In a moment... I've one last matter to attend to", Jon growled, addressing the shrunken figure of Fuinur, who wailed and sobbed.

"Mercy, I beg for Mercy, My Lord, you are the victor" But His grovelling was no more as Jon struck him hard across the face shattering his jaw.

"I am not interested in your words, creeping worm; I am Baelon Targaryen... and you have brought ruin upon your city," Jon said in a dark tone.

"It was necessary; we did it…." Fuinur tried to say, but Jon struck him again, and the man howled and sobbed; indeed, he was a wretched creature.

"I'm not interested in your defences... I have brought ruin to your city; your fields shall be salted and grow no more, your companion dead... all you hold dear is now ash upon the wind... All that remains is to kill you..." Jon roared, raising Ghal-Maraz above his head, but at that moment, Jon felt pain great pain and saw a dart sticking into his neck

"But what..." Jon said, suddenly feeling a bit weak.

"Hahahah, you have just received a dose of poison... You don't have much time before..." But Fuinur said no more before being consumed by the emerald flames of Vhagar; Jon smiled as he saw what had become of the wretched lord, a charred husk. Jon turned to depart when he heard the corpse give a strangled moan; he turned and brought the ancestral Warhammer of the Dwarf Kings down upon his head, destroying his skull utterly.

"Fool…" Jon growled, feeling his neck burn.

"Baelon... are you alright?" Rhaella asked who had heard everything.

"Yes... " Jon said, feeling the fool falling for such a horrid trick; let us leave this cursed place.

Jon glanced at Vhagar, and his dragon roared, summoning her sister so they could depart.

The three Targaryens rose against the sky, leaving behind an ancient much reduced; the power of the Ar-Adûnâim was shattered that day, and it would take many long years to recover, yet all would remember the day the dragons came and Umbar was drowned in fire and blood.

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The journey to Osgiliath, even as the dragon flies, would take a day, so they thought it wise to make camp soon day gave way to night, and the fields of Harad were blanketed in stars.

While they regained their strength, Daenerys praised the power of the Helm of Hador, but although he was pleased with its power, he knew it was too wearying to use, and he must practice lest it becomes a hindrance in war.

After cleaning up and resting, Jon lay down next to Dany, eager to embrace her, yet sleep would not come to him. Instead, he lay there awake thinking of the dart that pierced him; he did not know what feel enchantment lay upon it, his heart hammered in his chest, and his blood boiled.

He had hoped that Dany would help him calm that need, but she was spent, and he dared not wake her for something so foolish.

"Baelon…" Jon heard his grandmother whisper, and he saw she was sauntering toward him as a predator.

"Grandma?" Jon asked, thinking to stand up, but his grandmother placed a hand upon his chest.

"Hush, you mustn't wake Dany," Rhaella said, looking at him with love in her eyes, but he perceived something else lust.

"Are you well, Grandmother?" Jon asked, concerned.

"Quite well, though I just remembered that I never really thanked you for saving Daenerys many years ago in Braavos..." Rhaella said, her voice honeyed as she stroked his ebon curls.

Jon groaned "It was nothing.... Dany is my kin and I would gadly to it again there is no need for reward"

"I insist... Do you remember that I offered you as payment?" Rhaella whispered in his ear, and Jon remembered it very well; having no money, she offered to spend a night with him… She offered him her body.

"Grandma, what's wrong with you?" Jon asked, struggling to master his lust, but in those moments, his whole body yearned for Rhaella's touch… His Targaryen blood beseeched him to give in.

But Jon knew that was crossing a line even the Targaryens didn't cross or didn't often.

"Only that I acknowledge... that you are extraordinary..." Rhaella said before kissing him hungrily, and then all trace of sense left him.

He took Rhaella by her waist and held her in his lap as their tongues danced to and fro, yet the need for air forced them to part, and she smiled at him in a honeyed way, all the while caressing his curls, and Jon was lost in her amethysts eyes.

Something primal welled up in both of them, and before they knew it, Rhaella had done away with his tunic.

In those moments, their blood sang like the fires of the Dragon gods of old demanding they become one in the eyes of all, for they were dragons.

Jon was enraptured by his grandmother's beauty, unsullied by time; she was tall, elegant, and voluptuous.

"Do you find me beautiful?" Rhaella asked, wholly consumed by her desire.

Jon didn't answer and kissed her again, causing her to moan with pleasure; His hand moved to her bosom, and she moaned as his thumb flicked her nipples.

"Ah…" Rhaella moaned, enjoying a man's touch for the first time in her long years.

Jon kept doing what he wanted with Rhaella's breasts and she, not wanting to remain idle, moved away from him, enjoying seeing Jon's look of annoyance at being deprived of her breasts, but Rhaella smiled and kissed him again before sneaking her hand into breeches and freeing his cock. Rhaella knew her love was well endowed, yet it was a beautiful sight to behold; she looked at him and smiled again before giving the tip a short lick causing Jon to twitch anxiously as her lust reached new heights, tasting her grandson's seed.

Rhaella began to give him a blowjob, the first she'd ever given as she had cared little for Aerys.

It didn't take long for Jon to realise that his grandmother was wholly inexperienced, and little by little, he began to advise her while Rhaella gagged and sputtered eagerly, pleasuring her grandson as best she was able.

After several minutes he found his release howling into the night air as he filled his grandmother's throat with his seed, and though she was able to swallow some stained her face and breast after he had spent his essence, Rhaella looked at him and scooped up a portion of his seed before tasting it moaning at the heady flavour.

Seeing his father's mother act in such a way, he growled and pounced upon her; now, they would become one.

He had lost little vigour looking at her for a moment; he smiled, and she returned it with one of love and nodded, so Jon slid his cock inside Rhaella, and they were as one mind, body and soul.

At first, Rhaella let out a moan of pain as she had never had something so large inside her, but then the pain slowly turned into pleasure... A pleasure she had never felt in her many years.

And there Jon fucked her eagerly as a Lord takes his lady wife; she grasped his arse, urging her grandson deeper they were wholly lost in their lust, and soon his cock caressed her womb, causing her to howl in delight.

After what seemed like many hours, Jon's thrust became steadier and forceful; she knew he was near his end. She kissed him once more before biting his neck and moaned. "Fill me with your seed, Jon; let me fill loved." she clung to him, and her nails left trails of fire upon his back; it was then she felt her beloved grandson fill her womb, and she howled in pleasure for her climax came swiftly behind.

Rhaella lay next to Jon and kissed him once more; she was tired and sated; she reached down and placed it upon her womb, hoping Jon's seed would take root. She looked over at her grandson and saw he was already asleep, so Rhaella pulled his cloak over them and joined him in peaceful slumber.