They rode out of Braavos.

Leaving Valkyrie Keep defended, Brynhildr led out a party consisting of her children, lovers, and her fifty most trusted warriors, making for the Golden Company camp.

Brynhildr sat tall on her horse, face painted red and black, as they passed between perfectly pitched tents and proper-made lines for troops and visitors to walk through without obstruction. Her warriors carried banners with them, dark and looming over the simple gold flag of the Golden Company. They had their silly little motto, 'Our word is as good as gold,' and a war cry that went, 'Beneath the gold, the bitter steel.'

As they reached the grant captain-general's tent, Brynhildr saw a man sitting outside on a plush chair surrounded by guards. Captain Strickland was portly, with a big round head, mild grey eyes, and thinning grey hair brushed sideways. Daario told her that he liked to boast "gold for four generations," because his father, grandsire, and great-grandsire had all been part of the Golden Company. In fact, his great-grandsire had supported the first Daemon Blackfyre in rebellion, which was why House Strickland was exiled from Westeros in the first place.

"Commander Lothbrok," said Harry Strickland gruffly, eyes tracing over the people she'd brought with her. He seemed nervous, which was not the sort of thing one would expect from a captain of a much larger group. Daario had heard talk he was a big complainer and sometimes considered a coward.

"Captain-General," she greeted, dismounting from her horse. She spread her arms and bowed her head in respect. "Thank you for coming this long way and for meeting me here."

"Of course," said Harry. "You will pardon me if I do not rise. Our march was wearisome, and my toes are prone to blisters. It is a curse."

Brynhildr's lips thinned, wondering what sort of warrior he must be if blisters pained him that much. Harry gestured to a cadaverous looking man with a pointed black beard and blood-red hair. "My paymaster, Gorys Edoryen." He waved at his guards, "Bring chairs for our guests."

"Thank you," said Brynhildr. "I present to you my fellow Commander, Prince Oberyn of House Martell. Daario Naharis, a captain of the Stormcrows and close associate of the Valkyries. My children, King Viserys of House Targaryen and Princess Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen."

They gathered around, Captain Strickland looking at each of them as if to assess whether he needed to worry about them or not. "You wished for an alliance, then," said Harry. "Help in taking the Iron Throne for your boy."

"Yes," said Brynhildr. "An alliance." She gestured to Daenerys and Viserys. "My children are warriors who are ready to take back the throne that was ripped away from them. I was told you have your own interests where Westeros is concerned. You are a company made of descendants come from the exiles during the Blackfyre Rebellions and we have the means to get you lands and titles again."

"And how, exactly, will you do that?"

"We've a great bone to pick with House Lannister of the Westerlands and House Baratheon of the Stormlands. We intend to dethrone them and pick around at their lands until we've made it to our liking. Depending on which houses your men claim descendancy from, you will be given properties in these two lands– perhaps others, if we manage allies quickly. We have considered the daughters of Kevan Lannister and Stannis Baratheon alive to serve as brides in case we need to completely pass on the position of liege lord to a man from your company... it'll depend how well their fathers cooperate."

"What do you pose for the men of mine who have no claim?"

"If they wish to remain sellswords, they are welcome to join the Valkyries as part of my Einherjar. If they want to follow the Golden Company banner here, I cannot stop them. They, too, could be given lands through marriage once we are given a moment to evaluate who is left widowed or was always unmarried throughout the war that is about to erupt."

Captain Strickland pursed his lips. "Is it true what they say? You have dragons?"

"We do," said Brynhildr. "We came out here to speak on terms and did not bring them, for they are still small and would probably be screeching the entire ride. You are welcome to bring your captains to Valkyrie Keep any day you want to see them for yourselves if you want proof."

He was quick to shake his head, "No, of course, I understand– I believe you, Commander Lothbrok. We saw the red comet in the sky." Perhaps he thought she'd have his captains killed and seize control of the company; obviously she wouldn't have been stupid enough to bring the dragons here when the Golden Company could overwhelm them and steal them.

Brynhildr offered him a smile. "I'm glad to hear that, Captain-General."

"This is it, then," said Harry, gesturing to their little group. "That's everyone?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Well, we have other captains back at Valkyrie Keep. Who else are you expecting to be with us?"

He glanced at Prince Oberyn. "Did you ever meet the last captain-general, Myles Toyne? They called him Blackheart."

"I knew of him," said Oberyn carefully. "But I never met him personally."

"I did," said Daario, looking equally as suspicious as Brynhildr. "What of him?"

"You never discussed this option with him?"

"No," said Daario. "I met him before the Stormcrows made a partnership with the Valkyries. Why do you ask?"

"I only wondered," said Harry dismissively, looking fearful as though he'd said too much. "Well, then, I agree to your terms. When will we move out?"

"Patience," said Brynhildr. "We are not sure where our opening is in the grand scheme of this plot. Rest assured, we willmove soon. If you want lands, you'll wait."

"Very well," said Harry. "Thank you for coming."

They began to ride back immediately after, Oberyn, Brynhildr, and Daario sharing suspicious looks. It wasn't until they were out of earshot that Daario asked, "Why did it matter if we knew Myles Toyne? What would he have cared to think regarding this plan to retake the Iron Throne?"

"A previous Toyne– Ser Terrence– was a Kingsguard during the rule of Aegon the Unworthy," offered Viserys from behind, riding up so he could hear better. "I heard he was found abed with the King's mistress, Lady Bethany Bracken. Ser Terrence was dismembered piece by piece while Bethany watched. His brothers tried to avenge him but Prince Aemon the Dragonknight died making sure no harm came to Aegon. House Toyne had its downfall and presumably joined the other exiles here for the same reasons."

"Then, why does Myles Toyne matter at all to us?" questioned Brynhildr. "Sounds like the business with Ser Terrence happened but Strickland looked as though he'd divulged some great secret."

Daario thought aloud, "Well, Myles was a jug-eared bloke with a big nose and a crooked jaw. He died only, what, two years ago? I met him in Meereen before then. He has a close friend, Jon Connington, who he seemingly wanted to take his place after his death. I heard that Connington was driven out of the Golden Company for stealing from the war chest. They say he drank himself to death in Lys."

Viserys tsked. "Jon Connington? A thief? No. He would have never."

"You knew Jon Connington?" asked Oberyn, making a face as if this name brought a bad taste to his mouth.

"He was one of Rhaegar's closest friends. He once carried me on his shoulders and ran through the castle while Rhaegar chased us."

Brynhildr and Oberyn shared a look. "What else do you remember, my boy?"

Viserys tried to think. "Well, I remember there was talk in the castle that Connington was... in love with Rhaegar."

"Yes," said Oberyn. "It is believed he was. He called Rhaegar his 'silver prince' and once dared to say my sister, Elia, was unworthy of Rhaegar."

"Well, what happened to him?" asked Brynhildr.

"He squired alongside Rhaegar, eventually inherited Griffin's Roost from his father, Lord Armond. He participated in the tourney at Storm's End and was unhorsed by Ser Barristan Selmy. He became Aerys's Hand during the Rebellion after the dismissal of Lord Owen Merryweather. Connington promised Aerys Robert's head. He pursued Robert after the Battle of Ashford and ended up in the Stoney Sept. The Stark and Tully forces arrived there. Connington killed Jon Arryn's nephew and heir, Ser Denys Arryn, and wounded Lord Hoster Tully. Connington retreated once he saw the battle– which they dubbed the Battle of the Bells– was lost."

"I assume he was exiled," said Brynhildr.

"Yes. Connington had already passed Griffin's Roost to his cousin Ser Ronald and it became permanent after his exile. Robert did not recall Jon from exile because he'd been so close to Rhaegar. Ronald Connington kept the castle but House Connington lost its lordship, turning into a house of landed knights. The Connington wealth was seized by Robert and nine-tenths of their lands were given to Robert's most loyal supporters. Jon joined the Golden Company, and, well, you know the rest now. He was with them five years before being driven away."

Brynhildr wondered what this had to do with their pact. "Perhaps Jon Connington spoke to Myles Toyne about helping Viserys and Daenerys retake the Iron Throne."

"Perhaps," agreed Oberyn. "Yet, why would Strickland seemingly expect him to be with us if he's dead? That sounds as though he might not be." He pursed his lips. "I'll ask Varys and see what he knows. At any rate, we have our alliance. All we need is a wide opening."

Within the next week, they learned that the situation in Westeros was worsening. Though Varys had tried to insist Ned Stark accept the charges of treason to be sent to the Wall, Ned had refused. Robb had played a trick on Tywin within the Neck, and while part of his army had experienced a crushing defeat, Robb had advanced on Ser Jaime's army and captured him. Unfortunately, Varys and the court didn't learn of this until King Joffrey had Ned Stark executed.

They were in a full-fledged war now. Tywin and Cersei were furious, Stannis and Renly had officially raised claims to the throne, and letters were being broadcasted to the whole of the Seven Kingdoms by Stannis, who said Lord Stark had informed him and only him in writing about the true parentage of Robert's children.

In favor of remaining on the battlefield and taking back his son, Lord Tywin had sent Tyrion to be Hand in his stead, the dwarf having come to find his father after being freed of Catelyn and her sister Lysa's hold at the Eyrie through a trial by combat. At present, it was known that there were four kings in this war– King Joffrey, the new 'Kings' Stannis and Renly, and the declared King in the North, Robb Stark, who only wanted revenge and Northern independence.

Before Varys's reply came with information about Jon Connington, they determined where everyone else's alliances were placed. Renly had married Margaery Tyrell and had the majority of the Stormlands and all of the Reach at his back. Stannis had Dragonstone as a fortress and was in the company of a Red Priestess from Asshai who was starting to proclaim that Stannis was Azor Ahai, an apparent 'Prince Who Was Promised.'

"I'd never heard about that," said Daenerys, their small group watching the dragons zip through the air and chase each other. "A Prince Who Was Promised... what is that?"

"It's this prophecy," said Daario, tossing a chunk of meat at Rhaegal, who caught it on the first try. "Some say it was prophesied five thousand years ago, others think it was more recent. I heard something about its relevance to the Targaryen line, but I'm not sure what that is. It states that a hero will come to deliver the world from darkness, and he has a song– the Song of Ice and Fire."

"I remember hearing about that," said Viserys pensively. He fiddled with the hilt of the knife he always wore strapped to his belt, one that Brynhildr had made especially for him. The steel was etched in a close imitation of Valyrian steel, the hilt bearing a design of dragon scales. "Rhaegar thought he was the Prince Who Was Promised."

Daenerys furrowed her brows. "Really? Why?"

"It's a bit of a long story. I'm not sure I remember all of it. Before Rhaegar was born, King Aegon the Unlikely– our great-grandsire– called the family to Summerhall, our old pleasure castle in the Dornish Marches. He wanted to celebrate Rhaegar's impending birth. Some think the fire that killed King Aegon, Prince Duncan, and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Duncan the Tall, was caused by Aegon's obsession with restoring the dragons, others assumed sorcery was involved. Rhaegar was born during this tragedy."

"That's awful," said Daenerys sadly. "I remember you told me there was a tragedy at Summerhall, but I never thought..."

Viserys sighed. "Yes, well... anyway, Rhaegar sometimes corresponded with Aegon's brother, Maester Aemon, who serves the Night's Watch. It put the idea in his head that he was the Prince Who Was Promised because he was born during the fire... a fire that brought smoke into the sky and salty tears into those who cried. Part of the prophecy says the Prince Who Was Promised was born with salt and smoke, right?"

Daario nodded. "'Born amidst salt and smoke, beneath a bleeding star.'"

"Yes, that," said Viserys. "Rhaegar later thought the Prince Who Was Promised was our nephew Aegon, since there was a comet in the sky the day he was born. I remember he was so excited when he was born because of that."

"Yet he still went and betrayed my sister," said Oberyn through his teeth. "At any rate, this Red Priestess is surely wrong about Stannis."

"I imagine if we kill him, we'll show he's no one special," agreed Brynhildr. "If need be, I'll kill his Red Priestess, too." She scrunched up her nose, "Are we entirely sure this Prince is a Prince? That excludes half of our world's population. It doesn't quite make sense to me."

This made Viserys furrow his brows. "Mērī kivio dārilaros oz maghagon kostas." He repeated it in the Common Tongue, "Only the prince who was promised can bring the dawn. Technically, 'darilaros' is used for both Princes and Princesses."

"Then it could be expanded," said Brynhildr pensively. "I don't know if rules of prophecy are different in Asshai, if things are interpreted the same. Are we entirely sure this birth must be literal? In a sense, I myself was 'reborn' in this land, though I was eighteen at the time I arrived. I'd been literally born eighteen years prior, but arrived in a completely foreign land with nothing to call my own. Could something like that happen?"

Oberyn shrugged. "Perhaps. I don't see why not."

The dragons gave a chirp, tired of their play. As they landed at Daenerys's feet, nuzzling against her knees, Viserys burst out, "There is something I have to say."

They were quiet. "What is it, my boy?" asked Brynhildr, reaching over to caress the back of his head.

He pursed his lips several times and admitted, "I don't think I am meant to be King."

Once more, they were silent. Brynhildr spoke first, "What makes you think that?"

"I don't have dreams," said Viserys. "I've never seen our past, present, or future in my head. I did nothing special to bring the dragons here. I've... I've given this a lot of thought since we got them. What I want is revenge, not necessarily the throne. I don't want to be King, not really."

"But you would be a good king," said Daenerys, taking his hand. "It doesn't matter that you don't dream as I do or that you did not bring us the dragons. Father named you his heir. Mother crowned you. You are our King."

"I'm sure I could be a good one. But I don't think I'd be the right one." He squeezed her hand in return. "I think it needs to be you, Dany."

Daenerys blinked several times. "Me? Me?"

"Yes," said Viserys. "Even now, the more I think about it... if this prophecy about a Prince Who Was Promised is about anyone, it's about you. There was salt and smoke at Dragonstone the day you were born... lightning started small fires, the sea salt sprinkled every bit of the island that could be reached. I still remember the day we got here, we walked through a line of merchants selling meat and the smoke was making my anger worse. I remember tasting the salt of my tears. And– if what Mineri says is true– you birthed the dragons and brought a comet. You were reborn from the flame in a way. There was smoke there, and we all cried from close we were to the flames."

"But... but Viserys. Those are small details. Rhaegar had more of those things and... he died. He was felled. Even our nephew was killed. I don't think it a coincidence that of all the places we could have been taken... it was here that we came to be raised. The only almost-all-female sellsword group in Essos. Raised by a female warrior who came from a culture where women could be Queens and could be fighters. I think it is you who should be the face of our movement."

Tears began to sparkle in Daenerys's eyes. "Oh, Viserys." She pulled him into a tight hug. "You are too generous. If... if that is what you want, then you are still my heir. You may still be King someday."

"Perhaps," he said softly, resting his head against her shoulder. "But before then, I think we should all be rallying behind the Mother of Dragons and not the Uncle of Dragons."

Daario laughed good-naturedly, which prompted Viserys to look at Brynhildr. "Are you disappointed in me, Mineri?" he asked quietly, drawing away from Daenerys.

"No, my boy," said Brynhildr, smiling gently. "Why would I be? Your sister is right, you would be a good king. For it is only through clarity and wisdom that you could think of this. I think the both of you are good options for the face of this movement. But, perhaps, where this prophecy is concerned, you may be right about Daenerys's presentation for it. It could help us take Dragonstone."

Viserys seemed to only need this assurance, that she wasn't upset that she'd trained him for sixteen years just for him to give up his claim. Brynhildr didn't mind; Daenerys was right, after all, he could still be King after her. Not to mention Viserys would still be instrumental as a warrior on their side.

"Right," said Viserys, composing himself. "Anyway, that's what I was thinking about Dragonstone. Stannis only has a small amount of men there, right? Probably no fleet. And Varys's letter said he refuses to ally with Renly or Robb. They say Renly has always been more approachable and likable than Stannis."

"Agreed," said Oberyn. "At present, Stannis is surrounded by fools and fanatics."

"So," continued Viserys, "we could easily overwhelm him with twelve-thousand men and two-hundred ships without need for the dragons to be much older. It would get us a fortress on the mainland. The Valkyries fight hard and they fight good. It surely won't take long for Stannis to be an obnoxious dick to his lords. It's like what Mineri was asking about– if we defeat Stannis like that, we more or less gain his power, don't we? We could have the Red Priestess declare Dany as the Princess Who Was Promised and gain his surviving supporters."

They considered it. "It could work," said Brynhildr. "Though we'd need to be very clever about that... storming Dragonstone wouldn't be the easiest. We'd have to surround it with our fleet and do our best to send in attacks, maybe sneak men up the rocks or demand Stannis's men surrender. He doesn't seem the sort of man who would ever bend the knee to you. Besides, could Dragonstone even house us?"

"Perhaps not," admitted Viserys. "It's small and not meant to permanently house soldiers. Which means we need something bigger. We do need Storm's End."

"How would we do that?" asked Daenerys. "Renly has carried the majority of the Stormlands to his side. Even if we defeat Stannis, we don't have enough men to take the Stormlands from Renly. The dragons cannot help us in the field yet. We're going to need to figure out a different approach to that, aren't we? Otherwise we'll never be able to house all our men. And then we need to worry about feeding them. Even though we have two-hundred ships, we'd be dangerously close to King's Landing. We could take it, but we would be starved out soon after with Lord Tywin out and about."

"Let Tywin remain occupied with the North for now," suggested Daario. "Wait and see what Renly and Stannis decide. Renly might kill Stannis for us and we could determine another way to acquire Storm's End. At any rate, we know the North wants their independence. Should be easy enough to make that work after you've taken the Iron Throne–" He leaned over Brynhildr to whisper to Daenerys, "Dear niece, Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

She giggled, swatting him away. "Gods, that still doesn't feel right."

"Get used to it," insisted Viserys. "I think you are meant to be Queen." He smirked, teasing as well, "Queen Dany."

Brynhildr joined them as they laughed, but became serious when a group of her guards came up. She stood, the shield-maidens bowing their heads. "Commanders," said one, looking between her and Oberyn. "Two men at the door, they claim to have been sent by Varys. Blue hair, the Tyroshi type."

Daario feigned offense, gesturing to the color of his own hair. Oberyn and Brynhildr would have laughed if they weren't concerned. "Stay here," said Brynhildr to Daario and the children. "Weapons out. Varys has never sent adults before."

Viserys still tried to follow, but Daario pulled him back down. "Come now, Viserys," said Daario, "Your mother alone could handle ten men. They'll be fine with you here."

Brynhildr and Oberyn followed the guards to the main entrance, where the two men were being held, weapons apparently handed over with ease. The younger did indeed have blue hair, eyes shining purple in the fading light of day. His complexion could have been Tyroshi, though it somehow reminded Brynhildr more of Dorne.

The older was clean shaven with a lined, leathery face. He had crow's feet at the corners of his pale blue eyes. Though his hair was also blue, his eyebrows were red and his roots were starting to come in to show his real hair was red, too. His beard was still mostly red, but grey hairs showed here and there. He removed from his shoulders a red wolf-skin cloak, laying it over the sword one of the shield-maidens held.

"By all the gods," said Oberyn when the man turned his face up. "That's him. That's Jon Connington."

"Prince Oberyn," greeted Jon Connington.

"He said his name was Griff," said one of the shield-maidens distastefully. "Á ég að drepa þennan lygara, herforingi?"(T: Shall I kill this liar, Commander?)

"Nei," said Brynhildr calmly. (T: No.) "Lord Connington... this is certainly a surprise. Why are you not dead and why are you here of all places?"

"I was sent by Varys," said Jon. "To bring this here..." He put his arm on the shoulder of the younger man. "Prince Oberyn, I present to you... your nephew. Prince Aegon Targaryen, son of Elia Martell and Prince Rhaegar, and rightfulheir to the Iron Throne."