The needlework suddenly became fast and smooth.
Daenerys copied Elyn's movements with careful concentration, threading the needle without a single complaint. Her fingers no longer stung from constant pricks, and the tedious work no longer irritated her.
The idea of sewing a special war banner for her brother had lit a fire in her. She was happy to settle down, practice hard, and prepare for the day she could give him that gift.
She handed today's finished piece to Elyn with a touch of nervousness and waited for judgment.
The girl had given it everything she had, and Elyn's answer filled her with joy.
"You're improving. Truly improving." Elyn reached out and stroked her silver-gold hair. "See? When you put your heart into it, you can do anything. Don't rush. Take your time and everything will turn out right."
"I will! I promise!"
"Don't just say 'uh-huh.' You're not a silly goose."
"I'm a princess!"
Daenerys beamed so brightly that even her governess couldn't help smiling back.
Elyn's brown eyes were full of love, pride, and quiet worry as she looked at the child.
"Yes, you are a princess," Elyn said gently. "And princesses have responsibilities."
Daenerys's smile faded into sudden alertness.
"For example," Elyn continued, "you need to know your kingdom inside and out."
"I know. I have to learn everything about it," Daenerys said without hesitation. "When the time comes for me to rule, it'll be too late to start learning then."
"Very true, Daenerys."
She had never doubted it.
How could she?
Her brother Viserys was always there—strong, handsome, brave, and gentle. For years he had protected her and cared for her with everything he had.
And his army was already more than two thousand strong, with hundreds of warhorses. When the moment came, her brother would win a great victory. He had endured so much. The usurper and all his lackeys would be crushed.
Daenerys believed it with her whole heart.
"This month we studied the Reach," Elyn said. "Starting with the basics—who is the Lord Paramount of the South, and where is his seat?"
Daenerys had heard the soldiers in her brother's camp use a much funnier nickname for him, but she knew better than to repeat it in front of Elyn.
So she kept "Fat Rose" to herself and answered properly.
"Highgarden! Aegon the Conqueror gave it to House Tyrell." She rushed on. "Their sigil is a rose. They inherited Highgarden from House Gardener…"
"Slow down. We're not in a hurry." Elyn smiled. "Where does Lord Tyrell's castle stand?"
"On the Mander!"
"Correct. In the old days, which house formed the main shield against Dornish invasions?"
"House Tarly of Horn Hill!" Daenerys said confidently. "They were already called the Shields of the South when House Gardener ruled!"
"Close. They were the Wardens of the South, not the Shields. Still, well done." Elyn thought for a moment. "Where is House Redwyne's seat?"
"Obviously the Arbor! They make the best wine in the world!"
"Correct. Now, which houses in the Reach claim descent from the legendary Garth Greenhand? Name as many as you can."
Daenerys frowned in concentration. There were so many houses in the Reach. Every noble family wanted to trace their blood back to Garth Greenhand if they could.
"House Florent. House Hightower." She started with the ones she was sure of. "House Tarly… and…"
"And?"
"House Fossoway?"
"House Fossoway died out during Bloodraven's time as Hand." Elyn's gentle correction stung. It was the first mistake of the evening, and even though it didn't matter much right now, Daenerys felt a small pang of disappointment.
"House Oakheart!"
"Yes. Very good. Now, do you know—"
"Lady Elyn, is everything all right up there?" a warm voice called from the second floor. "I hope we're not disturbing you."
"Everything is fine, Your Grace," the governess answered at once with a smile.
"I'll come down."
Daenerys's face lit up like the sun. Viserys had finally come to see her!
She was old enough now to understand that her brother had important work—feeding his men, keeping order in camp, handling a thousand small tasks. Even heroes needed rest.
So she never complained. She knew why he couldn't spend every hour with her the way he used to. Everyone needed rest. She understood that perfectly.
Viserys came down the stairs with Eleonora Darennis at his side—his aide, a trueborn Valyrian warrior of Volantis.
Eleonora had joined them half a year ago and had stayed close to Viserys ever since. She helped him run the army, watched his back in battle, and often gave him counsel.
Looking at Eleonora's messy hair and tired face, a shy but hopeful spark lit inside the girl.
The morning's wish rose again, pushing her forward.
Daenerys slipped quietly from her chair and moved to stand beside Eleonora as she reached the bottom step. She wanted to play the game from yesterday, but she didn't know how to ask.
Order her?
No. She was still just a child. A fully armed warrior wouldn't take orders from a little girl.
Ask her brother's permission?
But Eleonora wasn't a slave. Viserys wouldn't treat her like one. That was the rule in the camp.
After thinking hard, only one option remained…
"What's wrong, Princess?" Eleonora looked exhausted, though she had only been resting with Viserys. How could she be as tired as a horse that had run itself into the ground?
"You've been circling me. Is something on your mind?"
"Eleonora, I…" Daenerys started, then swallowed the rest of the words. "I want to ask you to… you know…"
"Yes?"
"Could you fly again? Like yesterday? Please?"
Viserys couldn't hold back a laugh. Even steady Lady Elyn chuckled.
"Please—please—please!"
"Come on, Eleonora," Viserys said, not ordering but encouraging. "No one else is here. No one will see."
"The princess will remember it forever," Lady Elyn added. "I promise."
"You said yourself you enjoy playing with her," Viserys leaned back comfortably in his chair. "Here's your chance. Do it once more."
A strong, callused hand—very different from Elyn's—gently stroked Daenerys's hair the way her brother often did.
Then Eleonora sighed in mock surrender, dropped to one knee, and turned her broad, battle-hardened back toward the princess.
"Come on, then. Just for a little while. I'm really tired today."
Daenerys didn't need to be asked twice. She grabbed Eleonora's shoulders and closed her eyes in excitement. Only when Eleonora stood and stepped off the wooden floor did she open them again.
Perched on Eleonora's shoulders, she was taller than her brother!
"Hey—hey—hey!" Daenerys shouted, all the day's worries vanishing in an instant. "I'm Visenya! I'm riding mighty Vhagar! Fly—go!"
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Viserys and Lady Elyn talking quietly, but she paid no attention. Probably her brother asking about today's lessons.
She just hoped loyal Elyn wouldn't accidentally mention the war banner. That surprise had to stay secret until the very end.
"Vhagar! Fly around the room!" Eleonora played along, letting out a deep, growling roar that she clearly imagined was an ancient Valyrian dragon's cry. "One more circle!"
"Princess," Lady Elyn asked suddenly, "do you know who else has ridden Vhagar?"
"No one!" Daenerys laughed, eyes sparkling as she hugged Eleonora's shoulders tight. "I… am… the… first! Fly, my loyal Vhagar!"
She could have named them if she wanted—the mighty Queen Visenya, brave Prince Baelon, beautiful Laena Velaryon, even the kinslayer Aemond…
But right now none of that mattered.
The princess was lost in her own perfect dream. Old stories held no interest for her.
Eleonora carried her slowly around the room while Daenerys closed her violet eyes and imagined she was truly soaring through the clouds.
She flew high above the Seven Kingdoms. The usurper was already dead. Her brother sat the Iron Throne. She rode her dragon through the bright morning sky.
Castles, villages, forests, and lakes passed beneath her like a beautiful mosaic. Countless subjects looked up in awe and wonder at her.
Higher and higher she flew, into the rising sun, farther and farther…
Below her was only the wooden floor of a farmhouse in some unfamiliar town. The princess no longer noticed.
"What a fierce and splendid dragon…" Lady Elyn teased with a smile.
Daenerys knew that even if her governess pretended to frown, she had never truly minded the play—as long as lessons were finished first.
"No doubt about it," she said happily. "The fiercest dragon there ever was!"