Daenerys—or Emilia as she was now called—still hadn't fully come to terms with her sudden change in circumstances. Most days felt like a dream, like she might wake up any moment to find herself back in Pentos, about to marry Khal Drogo.
The thought alone sent a shiver through her spine as she put those nightmares out of her mind and focused on where she was at the moment.
She sat in the 'school', as everyone called it, surrounded by other acolytes, including the daughter of Eddard Stark.
Once, this proximity would have filled her with fear and anger, but Lord El had explained what had started the rebellion—how her father had gone mad and begun burning innocent people, and how her older brother had either run away with or abducted Eddard Stark's sister and the Usurper's betrothed. This painted a picture far different from the stories Viserys had told her all those years.
Now, she felt no anger toward the Starks, especially since Sansa had been nothing but helpful and kind to her, sharing her notes to help her get caught up in what was being taught and helping her with any questions she had.
At first, she was scared to ask anything as she feared that it might reveal that she was not who she said she was, but that fear hadn't come to pass. Her new identity shielded her from suspicion; no one recognized her, and very few probed into her past.
Lord El had told her that if anyone asked a question she could not answer, she should just look uncomfortable and on the verge of crying, and it would work.
She could do that; it wasn't very hard. Thankfully, she had yet to find herself in such a situation.
Her new last name kept most inquiries at bay—bastards were expected to have complicated and unpleasant histories. Everyone here treated her with kindness she had never known, it was surreal.
For the first time in her life, she had a purpose—something to fill her days that she was coming to genuinely enjoy. Becoming a healer felt right somehow, and El had even promised to teach her enough magic to hatch her dragon eggs when the time was appropriate.
She was slightly disappointed that she wouldn't be learning magic right away or even being taught directly by El himself, but she could be patient. Her life now was unimaginably better than what awaited her in Pentos.
No longer did she have Viserys threatening to "wake the dragon" whenever her actions displeased him. No longer did she have to worry about the Usurper's assassins finding her in her sleep.
She was no longer Daenerys Targaryen, a princess in exile with a target on her back. Now she was Emilia Snow, a northern bastard—a nobody, invisible in all the ways that mattered. The weight of her family name, of birthrights and thrones, had lifted from her shoulders.
In her chambers at Winterfell, she gently brushed the unfamiliar strands of hair and looked in the mirror. The girl who stared back was a stranger, yet somehow felt more real than the silver-haired child her brother had paraded before the magisters and princes of the Free Cities.
Emilia Snow could be anything she wanted to be.
And for the first time since she could remember, no one was plotting to sell her, wed her, or kill her.
For the first time in her life, she felt safe. The sensation was so foreign she almost didn't recognize it.
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I left Tyrion with his latest headache and headed toward the clinic to find Freya.
As I entered, I spotted a familiar figure standing near the corner examining one of the anatomy charts with interest.
"Prince Martell," I called out, genuine surprise in my voice. "I didn't expect to see you here."
Oberyn turned, His usual smile looked almost sheepish. "Ah, I came to offer an apology for my... skepticism yesterday."
I blinked, momentarily caught off-guard, I hadn't expected that.
"You really didn't have to," I replied with a casual shrug. "I was a bit too harsh, myself. You were perfectly justified in your reaction. No need to apologize. I came off rather unhinged with my claims."
Oberyn relaxed slightly. "Even so, I could have been more diplomatic with my skepticism. I came here to apologize and offer my help in any way that I can, even though the danger isn't imminent as you said, the issue is quite substantial."
I studied him for a moment, considering his offer. "Hmm, I guess there is something you could definitely help with," I replied.
I gestured for Oberyn to follow me toward the classroom, where I could hear a class was already in session.
Once I entered, I realized how much it had grown since we first started—the room was nearly filled now. I would probably have to expand again soon.
Looking around the room, I spotted Emilia sitting near the front with Sansa. She seemed to be fitting in well, listening to Freya with eager attention. I was glad to see her adapting to her new surroundings.
Wait, was that Margery, what was she doing here?
Never mind. I did not want to know. I continued scanning the room. I noticed quite a few students appeared to be from noble or at least rich merchant families. Their clothing gave them away, though thankfully there was still a good mix of common folk among them.
They were doing well …I think.
I hoped they were keeping up with what was being taught.
I'd seen a few assignments on Freya's desk some time ago, so some form of evaluation was happening, but I had been so preoccupied with everything else that I hadn't really gotten down to figuring out the little details of how to make this place run efficiently.
Was I going to have to start yearly exams now?
Dear god, what was I becoming?
I shook the thought away.
I was getting sidetracked, I was here for a reason. Oberyn wanted to help and earn my forgiveness—though there wasn't much he could personally do for my larger concerns at the moment. But he could certainly help me with something immediate.
I approached the front of the class, where Freya was in the middle of explaining something about wound infection.
"Hello everyone," I said, drawing everyone's attention. "I hope I am not interrupting anything important?"
Freya paused her lesson, giving me a slightly exasperated look. "I guess... ?"
"Perfect," I replied with a smile. "I thought we could do something slightly different today." I turned to address the class, gesturing toward Oberyn with a flourish. "Everyone, this is Prince Oberyn Martell of Dorne."
The students leaned forward in their seats, clearly intrigued by the presence of the infamous Red Viper.
"Prince Martell here is a very well-traveled man," I continued. "He's probably been to the farthest corners of the map and gotten into enough troubles across the world."
I glanced at Oberyn with a challenging smirk. "He's about to tell you about all the diseases and gruesome deaths he's witnessed throughout his adventures."
I leaned in and whispered to him, "Please don't talk about any of your sexual exploits, there are children present"
To his credit, Oberyn barely hesitated before giving an exaggerated bow to the class. "Hello, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you so much for having me." His voice carried that distinctive Dornish drawl that somehow made everything sound slightly suggestive. "I am happy to be able to tell you about all the wondrous and horrible things I have seen across the world."
He paused dramatically. "Where do I even begin?"
I made my way to the back of the class and sat down next to Freya, settling in to listen to what Oberyn would share. From the rapt expressions on the students' faces, this impromptu lesson was already more engaging than I'd anticipated.
I didn't really have high expectations, but Oberyn quickly demonstrated he had a good grasp of what I wanted to convey to the students. His experiences from Essos, the Summer Isles, and even his time studying at the Citadel gave him a unique perspective on various ailments and some of the magical fuckery that happens at the unmentioned parts of Planetos.
It was quite fun. I even asked a few questions myself, which prompted more questions from the students. They seemed particularly fascinated by his knowledge of poisons—a specialty that had earned him his infamous reputation.
At some point, I got distracted trying to get handsy with Freya, but she swatted my hand away. I sat there pouting for the rest of the class while she maintained her professional demeanor.
After the class ended, I found myself back on the streets of Winterfell, whistling and walking, letting my thoughts wander freely.
My mind kept returning to the naming ceremony. The preparations were almost ready—well, not exactly the full ritual, but the test to see if it was even going to be feasible was nearly complete.
Since this was only a test run, I couldn't really use it on anything dangerous yet. I needed something harmless but significant enough to demonstrate the spell's effect.
I initially had some ideas for what I could use to test out the ritual, but then I had too many ideas, and it was hard to choose.
I thought about who to go bother for inspiration because it wasn't going to come to me if I just wandered around.
Eventually, I walked towards the castle and ran into two familiar faces.
"Hello, boys! What's up?"
Jon and Robb looked like they were arguing over something.
Robb's face lit up with relief. "Oh, thank the gods you're here, El. Help me convince this stubborn fool that joining the Night's Watch right now is madness."
"With what's coming for us, I want to help defend the North. What's wrong with that?" Jon argued.
Oh right, I had forgotten this was happening, probably best nip it in the bud "The sentiment's admirable, Jon, but Robb's right," I said, leaning against a nearby post. "You don't need black clothes and vows to fight what's coming."
Jon's dark eyes narrowed. "How else am I supposed to make a difference?"
"By keeping your options open," I replied, straightening. "The Watch ties you to the Wall for life. Someone with your skills needs mobility, especially now. You'd serve the North better by being where you're needed most when the time comes."
"And where would that be?" Jon challenged, though I could see the stubborn set of his shoulders softening slightly.
"Here, for starters. Training. Preparing." I scratched my chin thoughtfully. "Actually, there is something specific you could do that wouldn't involve lifelong celibacy."
Both brothers exchanged curious glances.
"What's that?" Robb asked.
A smile slowly spread across my face. "I could teach you to warg."
Jon's eyes widened. "You can teach that?"
"Well, you need to have the blood for it. Someone in your ancestry had that power, so it has been passed down. Once you have that it's a matter of skill. All your siblings have it, your dad too, but he's too old to learn now."
The brothers exchanged looks – this time with growing excitement rather than frustration.
"Please teach us."
"Sure, but you need to get permission from your dad. I don't want to get yelled at later for teaching you basic magic, and then come over tomorrow to the clinic, and we'll get started. Don't forget to bring your wolves."
They practically bolted toward the castle, their earlier argument completely forgotten.
I watched them go, shaking my head with amusement before continuing my walk through the town.
As I rounded a corner near the market, I spotted a weathered local farmer leading a small train of donkeys, their saddlebags laden with goods. The animals plodded along docilely—all except one at the back that kept trying to wander in different directions, earning frustrated tugs from the farmer.
Inspiration struck me like lightning.
"Hello, my friend," I called out, approaching the man with a friendly wave. "How much for your donkey?"
The farmer looked up, startled by the interruption. Recognition dawned in his eyes, followed by the particular brand of reverence I'd grown accustomed to seeing among the smallfolk of Winterfell.
"Take all of them, my lord," he said hastily, already gathering the leads to hand over. "They are free for you."
I waved off his generosity with a chuckle. "No no, I have no need for all of them. I just want the misfit." I pointed toward the stubborn beast at the end of the line that was now attempting to eat my coat as I got closer.
The farmer looked between me and the troublesome animal with undisguised confusion. "Are you sure, my lord?"
"Absolutely certain," I replied, already reaching into my pocket. I pulled out a gold dragon—far more than any donkey was worth—and pressed it into his palm. "Here you go."
The man's eyes widened at the coin, his mouth opening to protest the excessive payment.
Before he could voice his objections, I had already taken the unruly donkey's lead and was scratching behind its ears.
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A/N: Sorry about the irregular updates guys, I kinda landed an internship last week and have been distracted trying to not fuck it up immediately. Still gonna do my best to write a chapter a week. Might finally finish editing the other stuff marinating in my drive before it starts to rot—you'll find out what I end up doing before the weekend ends, hopefully.
Leave a like or a comment if that's your thing. Like any human being, I find great joy in seeing numbers go up.
Oh you can also find the next eight chapters on my patreon in case you're rich and can sustain such frivolous spending.