Varys was a happy ally.

Brynhildr wasn't sure why Varys was so personally invested in a Targaryen restoration, nor did she understand how he and Oberyn became friends in the first place. At present, it didn't matter, for the Master of Whisperers was giving them much of the information they needed to plan their conquest.

First, he'd told them that King Robert was traveling North to ask Lord Eddard to become his Hand. Brynhildr wondered if the position was cursed– perhaps if Robert didn't die, Ned would. One way or another that would cause a problem, for she knew the North would not sit idly by if a second Hand died under Robert's watch. Still, she hoped for the King's passing– she prayed to her gods for it and caught a bird, draining its blood to chant and invoke death.

Second, he offered them an ally. Ser Jorah Mormont, exiled from the North for selling slaves to support his expensive Hightower wife, currently acted as King Robert's spy in Essos, residing in Pentos and spying distantly on the Targaryen children. Varys assured them that Robert was close to pardoning Jorah for his years of service, even if the assassins he sent never got close enough to Valkyrie Keep to pluck even a single strand of hair from the childrens' heads.

"And why would I want him here?" asked Brynhildr when Oberyn showed her a letter that'd been clutched in the hand of a small, dirty boy who now lingered outside Valkyrie Keep. One of Varys's little birds. She felt sorry for the boy, forced to listen and gather information, even transport it across continents.

"He's Westerosi," said Oberyn. "We have no true Kingsguard, and another sword would not hurt. The Valkyries would tear him to pieces like vultures at the first sign of betrayal. Your Einherjar would Blood Eagle him personally if he so much as glared at you."

Brynhildr's eyes flicked to Daario, who was sharpening his blades mindlessly. "Varys has openly called him a spy. He will gather whatever information he gets, no matter how meaningless, and will send it back to Robert."

"And Robert will pardon him because he'll think Ser Jorah finally infiltrated Valkyrie Keep," said Oberyn. "Which no assassin has managed to do in sixteen years. Jorah will be pardoned and will either leave, or will become loyal to us, as Varys suspects. Jorah wants more out of life than this pardon, otherwise, he would have gone much further much sooner. He won't know that we are aware of his position within Robert's purview."

When she kept making faces, Oberyn moved closer, tucking his hand under her chin. "If you are worried, don't be," insisted Oberyn. "He will learn nothing of substance– we won't allow it. I will kill him myself if he is more treacherous than what Varys claimed."

"What of the dragons?" said Brynhildr. "He could steal the eggs. He will tell Robert as soon as they are born."

"He won't manage to steal the eggs. And he won't tell Robrt anything he won't find out in some other way, eventually."

With narrowed eyes, she relented. "Fine. But if Varys's prediction is wrong, if I doubt he is becoming loyal to my children, then I will slit his throat."

Preparations were made to subtly welcome Ser Jorah, who believed they were unaware of his presence in Essos at all as he came to Valkyrie Keep asking to join the Valkyries as an Einherjar. A room was made available, though Brynhildr made sure it was on a completely different floor than Daenerys and Viserys.

His initial assessment was passed. Brynhildr was glad she wasn't exactly known for her warmth outside of Braavos. Anywhere the Valkyries went, suffering followed. Anytime they were called to kill rapers or murderers, they always left a Blood Eagle visible for others who might want to do the same thing or otherwise bother whoever hired them to kill the person. People knew of her sacrifices, the Qohorik of course friendly because of Daario and her first few Einherjar. Even here they continued to call her Bloody Brynhildr.

So, it wasn't out of character for her to be sneering down at Jorah as she watched her shieldmaidens test his strength. He was good with a sword, strong enough that he beat both Osric and Izir.

"It's the bear in him," said Osric, trying to justify his loss. "My Northern blood is weak. His is strong."

"The bear?" asked Brynhildr blandly, watching one of her Sarnori spearwives manage to cut into his arm with her blade. "My brother Bjorn once killed a bear with only a small knife. We can eat bear any day we choose. It doesn't make him special. It won't protect him."

At any rate, her Valkyries liked Jorah. He was humble and quiet, not the sort of man she expected after hearing he sold slaves. He disliked Ned Stark, which was a plus, and overall he seemed desperate for a smidge of approval. Perhaps that was what he sought here. He'd spoken to Shyra, whose name the North knew from when they'd gone to sell their ships and weapons at White Harbor. Maege Mormont, now Lady of Bear Island, had apparently named one of her daughters after her for the few days they spent as lovers.

Brynhildr kept away from him as much as she could. She hardly let Viserys and Daenerys around him– if anything, they only saw him at meals and during training. Oberyn insisted Brynhildr not be concerned with Jorah taking note of Viserys's skill with a sword and Daenerys's accuracy with her knives. Robert and all of Westeros would find out in time; they would still underestimate the two Targaryens in the near future. All the same, it wasn't something she enjoyed.

Daario had tried to make her laugh about the whole situation by noting that Ser Jorah seemed to like her, despite Brynhildr's obvious unhappiness with his presence. Brynhildr shut his imagination down quickly, noting she liked men who were flirty and charismatic, like him and Oberyn. She told him that Jorah seemed the type to want a simple fuck with complete darkness, which was not at all what she enjoyed whenever Daario and Oberyn came to visit her.

Thinking of Jorah in a sexual context only worsened the situation, not because she found him appealing, but because she started to take notice of who his eyes were on. Yes, at first, they seemed to have been on her. Then some of her other Valkyries. But finally she watched his eyes drift to one of the two people his affections were completely unacceptable towards.

"Ser Jorah." She came to stand beside him as he watched Oberyn and Kahmid challenge Daenerys to throw knives around Daario, who kept wiggling into different stances in front of her targets.

"Commander Lothbrok," he greeted with a nod. He looked down at Daenerys. "She has perfect aim."

"She does," agreed Brynhildr, one hand tight on her sword hilt. "I knew she would be great with knives the first time I let her hold mine. She twirled it in her hands at the age of four, giggling and saying it was like a teeny sword, one perfect for her, because she was too little for a real one."

"She, like the King, is a true dragon," noted Ser Jorah. "Viking Dragons, they say."

"Indeed. Dragons are beautiful, aren't they?" She smiled to herself as Daenerys flicked a knife right over the top of Daario's head, causing Oberyn to clap in approval. "Daenerys has grown into a capable young woman. She was but a dragon hatchling when they brought her to me. Now she is as radiant as the most beautiful beasts were during the highest points of the Targaryen rule. I've heard that Sunfyre, Tessarion, and Dreamfyre were the prettiest."

"So I've heard as well," agreed Ser Jorah.

Brynhildr glanced at him through the corner of her eye. "I'm not blind, Ser Jorah. You fancy Daenerys. You want her."

He looked around as if unsure what to say or do, as if he'd not anticipated for her to notice this. "I don't fault anyone for finding my daughter pretty," said Brynhildr, voice deadly soft as she watched Daenerys collect her knives. "I know she is beautiful, of course people notice it. But I will still gouge out the eyes of anyone who thinks of her beauty and wants more from it, for those who wallow in it in silence are brewing nothing good in their minds."

She faced him, placing her hand over the hilt of his sword and giving it a mocking tap. "The next time I see you looking at her with desire will be the last time you are able to see anything at all. Enjoy your afternoon."

He was significantly more tense around her after that, but she did notice he was even more willing to do her bidding, perhaps to repair his image. She didn't mind if this apparently 'loyalty' would grow from a place of fear. He could both believe in Viserys and Daenerys and still be afraid of what their mother would do if he didn't believe hard enough.

Within two weeks of Ser Jorah's arrival, Brynhildr arranged their ritual. Three of her Valkyries, Xema of Lorath, Kgomina from the Bone Mountains, and Isjya of the Summer Isles, were ready sacrifices to invoke the waking of the dragons. Daenerys had dreamt of a large fire, which led Brynhildr to build a pyre that would accept both the dead and burned bodies– three Valkyries and three goats as well– with the eggs given a place in the center.

Daenerys had received more clarity on the proceedings the day before they set out for the outskirts of Braavos to try and wake the dragons. For weeks already she'd been hugging the eggs, talking to them, singing to them, letting them sit over hot coals, and mostly trying to conjure more images of them in her head. It seemed, at last, it gave way to one conclusion: she had to hold them even within the fire.

"Out of the question," said Daario when she posed the idea at breakfast. "No, absolutely not."

"I agree," said Oberyn. "The ritual will be enough without you risking yourself to the flames."

"I don't burn when I touch hot coals!" complained Daenerys. "Viserys takes baths beyond boiling and his skin doesn't even redden. We've never once itched from the sun the way Mother sometimes does if we sit outside for too long. I'll be fine."

Daario looked at Brynhildr, who pursed her lips and thought about it. "You can't seriously be considering it."

"Of course I'm considering it," said Brynhildr firmly. "She is a völva. She doesn't control what she sees, she only receives an answer and is meant to deliver it. The gods would not have shown her something that would hurt her, not when she imagined herself holding the hatchlings completely alive."

"I agree with Mineri," said Viserys. "Dany has already seen glimpses of a future beyond the dragons and she's in it, how could that happen if she's dead?"

Oberyn and Daario shared a look. "It's dangerous," said Oberyn. "What if the visions are more unclear than you think? What if it's not you in the visions? You are seeing them through your eyes but it isn't certainly you doing these things. Perhaps you are seeing those things through the eyes of other people."

Daenerys shook her head. "I have dreamed of Rhaegar." They were quiet. "I saw him mounted on a stallion black as his armor. Fire glimmering red through the narrow eye slit of his helm. I went to him and lifted his polished black visor. Except, it wasn't Rhaegar's face behind it. It was my face. I saw it. I've dreamt I was him, riding to the Trident. It was me, I know it, because I wasn't mounted on a horse. I was mounted on a dragon."

The two men looked at Brynhildr again, who nodded. "I could stop her even if I wanted to," said Brynhildr. "This is the will of the gods. I have to believe they intended great things for her, otherwise, why bring me here? Why let her survive that night she was born during a storm? We have to risk it."

Though no one was entirely confident other than Daenerys, they moved out that evening to set up their camp and place the built pyre in a sandy spread of land, large enough for the Valkyries who accompanied them to amass in a large circle.

The pyre was built with two circles, the outer connected to the inner by lines that would ignite the center with the torches held by their Valkyries. Inside the inner circle, the three joint triangles of their symbol had been made; the way they interlocked, six peaks were accessible, each of which would be occupied in alternation by one Valkyrie and one goat, all of whom would have their throats slit before the fire was started.

Dressed in white robes with armor beneath, her war paint on, Brynhildr led Daenerys to the center of the pyre to place the dragon eggs in a small basket, before they emerged again to join their Valkyries at the perimeter. All were dressed in their armor, each one holding torches. In a second loop behind their line stood the Einherjar, Oberyn, Daario, Viserys, and Jorah, the last of which seemed most disturbed by the set-up made. (A/N: I couldn't find a set explanation of how these rituals are done or what exactly they say so I made it up and used an Icelandic translator since most of the galdr songs I found online seemed to be written in this language.)

Their shield-maidens tapped their weapons against their shields, a loud drumming filling the emptiness around them. Brynhildr shouted out into the night, "Við ákallum guðina í kvöld. Víkingur og Valýrían." (T: We call upon the gods tonight. Viking and Valyrian.)

She accepted a ceremonial knife from Daenerys. "Við biðjum þeim blessunar á þeirri vegferð sem framundan er. Við höfum séð í rúnum og í draumum þá miklu fórn sem við verðum að færa." (T: We ask for their blessing in the journey ahead. We have seen in the runes and in dreams the great sacrifice we must make.)

She went to their chosen sacrifices, Daenerys following with a large bowl. Brynhildr circled around the pyre first, slitting the throats of the three goats and letting Daenerys collect their blood in the bowl. Viserys came forth with a second bowl, much larger, and followed her as she made sacrifices of Xema, Kgomina, and Isjya, each of whom received a kiss on the forehead in thanks before their necks were sliced open, blood drained into Viserys's waiting hands.

"Við bjóðum ykkur, Frigg og Freyju, sem hjálpa börnum að koma. Færðu okkur þrjú drekabörn þetta kvöldið," said Brynhildr, guiding her children in walking alongside her with the bowls. Dipping one hand into each, she began to splash the blood in the faces of everyone present. "Við bjóðum þér það, Óðinn, alfaðir. Við bjóðum þér það Hálogi, persónugerving okkar elds." (T: We offer it to you, Frigg and Freyja, who help children come. Bring us three dragon children this night. We offer it to you, Odin, Allfather. We offer it to you, Hálogi, our personification of fire.)

The Valkyries continued to drum, the Einherjar joining in song, "Láttu þá fæðast / Þrír með horn / Maí Frigg og Freyja / Og hygla guði / Bjargaðu okkur frá sorg / Láttu ljósið koma aftur / Hróp okkar heyrist / Þessi dimmasta stund / Ný dögun og kraftur / Kveiktu í loganum / Leiddu okkur í gegnum storminn / Við skulum fljúga hátt / Reiðishreinsun / Óvinir að deyja / Endurfæðing, við biðjum." (T: Let them be born / Three with horns / May Frigg and Freyja / And favoring gods / Save us from sorrow / Let light return / Our cry be heard / This darkest hour / New dawn and power / Ignite the flame / Guide us through the storm / Let us fly high / Rage cleansing / Foes dying / Rebirth, we beg.)

Once the last of them had been splashed with blood, Daenerys invoked her gods directly, "Ivestragī Arrax, jentys hen Jaesi, tepagon īlva kustikāne. Ivestragī Aegarax, Jaes hen mirre dȳñes se mazverdagoni hen ēlī zaldrīzes, se Gaelithox, Jaes hen perzys, tepagon īlva iā perzys. Ivestragī Shrykos, jaesa hen arlie rhaenagoni, apre bisa osta syt īlva. Ivestragī Tessarion, Jaesa hen giēñagoni se provatic, maghagon īlva naejot īlva vējes. Ivestragī Tyraxes se Vhagar, Jaese hen vīlībāzma kȳvanoni, vīlībelliz, se vīlībāzma, maghagon īlva skoros īlon jorrāelagon naejot evinc arlī." (T: Let Arrax, ruler of the gods, give us strength. Let Aegarax, god of all creatures and creator of the first dragon, and Gaelithox, god of fire, give us a flame. Let Shrykos, goddess of new beginnings, open this door for us. Let Tessarion, goddess of healing and prophecy, bring us to our destiny. Let Tyraxes and Vhagar, goddesses of battle strategies, warfare, and war, bring us what we need to conquer again.)

Brynhildr dipped her fingers in the bowls of blood again, smearing streaks down her face. She did the same to Viserys, then Daenerys. They stepped out of the circle as the Valkyries dropped the torches, lighting the pyre. As tongues of fire began leaping in the direction of the eggs, Brynhildr gave Daenerys a tight hug, letting go to allow the girl to begin walking into the center. The fire was too high and smoke too thick to see her after she sat down and took the eggs from the basket, laying them in her lap.

They chanted all together, until at last it was too hard to breathe with all the smoke. They stepped aside and sat in wait against the ground. Brynhildr stared at the center of the pyre, ignoring how watery her eyes were, waiting for some sign that it had worked, that Daenerys was truly still alive in there.

The smoke didn't clear until the following morning. As the sun began to rise, ash caked on the ground, they saw a lone figure in the center of the pyre, crouched down and hugging something to her chest.

Brynhildr removed her robe, armor clattering loudly as she sprinted to Daenerys and tossed the robe over her, kneeling beside her and cupping her face. The second to arrive was Viserys, who offered her water as she looked up, purple eyes glittering in the morning sun.

"By all the gods," said Viserys when the three creatures on his sister's lap began to purr and crawl out from under the robe, chirping up at the new people.

"This is Rhaegal," said Daenerys happily, caressing the head of the one with jade-green scales and bronze eyes. "For our brother. And this is Viserion–" The golden-eyed and cream-colored dragon nipped at Viserys's foot. "For you."

"Thank you. That... that means a lot." Viserys didn't seem to think them adorable, but certainly interesting. "Gods, Dany, you did it. What about the last one?"

Daenerys placed the largest of the three on her lap. His scales and teeth were black, his horns, spinal plates, and eyes red. "I want to name it Fafnir. To honor Mother's gods, to honor her history. Her grandsire slayed a dragon and here a dragon is born from her magic. She said Fafnir was a dwarf that became a dragon. So, too, have we all changed because of her."

"This means a great deal to me, Dany," said Brynhildr, kissing the top of her head. "My sweet girl, it is you who has birthed these dragons."

Behind them, Oberyn, Daario, and Jorah had led the way for the Valkyries and Einherjar to see that what they'd called for had come true. Daenerys scooped the dragons back up and with Brynhildr's help, got to her feet, smiling as everyone began to marvel at the little creatures that nuzzled into her chin adoringly.

"Daenerys Stormborn," said Viserys proudly. "The Unburnt. Mother of Dragons."