westwhere | "Why do the gods make kings and queens, if not to protect the ones who can't protect themselves?"

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"Why do the gods make kings and queens, if not to protect the ones who can't protect themselves?"

WHO: Daenerys Targaryen and OTA!
WHEN: As nobles and merchants return to the Citadel
WHERE: Merchant Square, the gates Taravast, and Palace of the Doxe
WHAT: Arrival of the Mother of Dragons
WARNINGS:

I. Arrival to the Citadel

The welcome has been overwhelming, to say the least. A far better sight than Khal Jhaqo and his khalasar. Though when she had first come to in the Stairs of Sighs and was spotted by the band of minor nobles and merchants, it wasn't much of a different feeling than seeing the Dothraki. In both situations, it was simply Dany with Drogon, now it seemed, he was the size he had been in Astapor. There was no riding him now, instead he curled around her shoulders and neck. His serpentine body and black scales startling against the canyon and harsh sun.

She would have to reflect on the magic of it later and how someone had managed to change her child. The moment the men and women saw Drogon, they crowded around Daenerys eagerly. For the few daring to touch her dragon, she quickly pushed their hands away, sensing Drogon's agitation as his claws dug into her skin. She attempted to communicate with them, not recognizing their language. First in the Old Ghiscari/High Valyrian blend of the Meereenese. Next trying simple High Valyrian. When that didn't work, she hoped and prayed the Commmon Tongue would be understood, but that was much like the rest. The most she tried finding their language, the more the pressed in around her and stared at her with wonder. Finally, in desperation, she tried Dothraki, but that was a lost cause.

So here she was, tattered, burned and dirty, looking more like she crawled from the bowels of the Seven Hells, following a large group of people and relying on their gestures to understand them. It didn't help that as they reached the entrance to their city, others started to flock around her as well. She wasn't feeling nearly as regal or majestic as the people were treating her. The more they crowded in, the more agitated Drogon started to become. She kept her hand on him, but soon he was launching himself from her shoulders, taking to the sky and flying across the Citadel.

"Drogon!"

II. Merchant Square

It's becoming more and more obvious that something was being planned when Daenerys was ushered into the Merchant's Square. The man that repeatedly called himself "Rosso Capello" had stayed with her up until the square. Only then did the merchants take control of her. Some stood on crates or boxes, spouting lofty speeches and stories, that while Dany couldn't understand, recognized as some extoling of virtues. She wasn't exactly a glorious sight, but people still stared in awe at her. There was no real room to escape, and for better or worse, she was relying on the people that found her to take her somewhere safe.

She just didn't expect to become a side show at the same time, no different than the mummers and slave auctions in Essos.

Drogon returned, perching on one of the stalls and staring down with his red eyes, no different than the blood red of his horns and back plates. He was terrifying, but that seemed to please the people. They turned away from Dany towards her dragon, still not looking overly pleased with the attention.

'How long before he retaliates? I need something to hold him, to keep him in check.'

The whip she acquired in Daznak's Pit was gone now, but there were so many stalls and so much merchandise, there had to be a whip somewhere. She touched the shoulders of people, repeating the request again and again. "Please, I need a whip." Only to be met once again with the blank (but mesmerized) stares of the people.

"Please can someone understand me?" She shouted in common tongue.

III. Palace of the Doxe

By the end of it all, Dany is exhausted. There was a grim realization of what was happening when money exchanged hands and she was lead away by...some noble household. The way the merchants responded to them, it was someone influential and of high standing. There was no gold collar, at least. No brand on her face denoting what she was slated for (which thank the Gods didn't seem to be a pleasure house.) It was possible to escape all of this as she had helped the others in Astapor. True, there was no army, but there was Drogon.

Yet...the idea of more charred bones at her feet, chaos in the city and looks of anger made her feel sick to her stomach. Where was she supposed to go? What should she even do? This place was foreign to her and she was starting to realize it wasn't Essos. So, without much objection, she followed to the Palace of the Doxe.

Along the way, a sorceress named Karsa offered her a communication and translation device. It was such a relief that Dany started to cry in gratitude. At least she wouldn't be lost in both language and world. There was information, stories about others who were newcomers to the world, which cleared up how she got here. Knowing there were others also was a comfort, though she didn't ask if they were bought and sold as well. She'd find out soon enough.

Reaching the Palace, Dany took a seat on the marble floor, not responding to any further attempts to move her. They brought her here, but they couldn't make her budge. Not until she was ready and had some energy. There were others, people who appeared a bit out of place compared to the rest.

Hoping they might understand her now, she called over, "Are you a newcomer as well?"

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Chu Wanning could understand this woman though he had noticed that not everyone else could. He wondered what that meant but perhaps that wasn't important at the moment.

The man she approached was dressed in all white, strangely clean for all the city had just gone through. He'd opted for his cultivator's robes after recent disasters, realizing that he'd failed to blend in so it was more important to be prepared. The overall effect gave him a sort of otherworldly look.

Except his expression which looked pinched in a frown since he has a rather terrible case of resting bitch face.

"Why do you need a whip?"

He had noticed the dragon (though he didn't recognize it as one. Dragons, where he's from do not look like that) but he didn't realize yet that it had come with this woman he was speaking to.

He seemed stern and serious, but that didn't matter so much in the moment. Simply having someone who understood her was a blessed relief. He could be sharp and harsh and she would still be grateful for his presence. While he seemed to frown, she grinned, silently thanking him for being here.

She pointed towards her dragon, his red eyes watching the crowd below. His back was haunch and his two legs gripped the stall, fabric tearing under his claws. "He's becoming aggressive. If I have a whip, I can keep him from burning this part of town." She ran a hand over her head, forgetting for a moment that her hair was burned down to a peach fuzz.

"He might hurt someone if I can't control him."

He looked towards the dragon (still without realizing it was a dragon), then looked back at her, his frown deepening.

"Does it have to be you?"

He's concerned but his concern could, on first glance, seem more like annoyance. A creature like that...should the responsibility of keeping it in check be left to just one person?

That question never even occurred to her.

"Of course," she answered. "I brought him into the world, I raised him. He's as much a child to me as anyone could be. I must take responsibility for him if something happens." And Gods, let her keep him in check before that something was another pile of charred bones.

"Please, will you help me find one?"

When she put it like that, he could understand a little. If it were one of his disciples, his feelings would probably be similar.

...not that any of his three disciples were dragons or anything but very ordinarily human. But if they ever took the wrong path, if they were ever in a situation where they'd hurt someone...it'd be his responsibility.

So he nods, as if agreeing to help look. Except, then he takes a step back, his expression as before.

"Hold out your hand."

That's all the explanation she gets before he holds out his own arm. "Tianwen, come forth."

And there's a flash of light golden light at his fingertips that reforms itself into a whip. Well, sort of a whip. It looks like a willow vine, with leaves and all, but it has a handle and it's shaped like a whip. It also feels distinctly magical (to those who can sense such things) and not only that, but quite powerfully so at the same time. He closes his fingers around the handle.

Then he looks at her expectantly.

Perhaps, if he were less socially inept he may have asked her to hold out her hand now rather than before. He may have explained what he's actually holding, maybe. But he really isn't very good at talking to people so this is what she gets.

Her brow furrowed as she extended her hand to him.

She watched in wonder as a whip was magically formed in his palm. A beautiful willow vine with leaves and wispy branches. There was a sense of magic about it, inexperienced as she was, but still familiar with the feeling. This was a sweeter sensation than anything Mirri Maz Duur created. There were no shadows accompanying this, only a beautiful gold light that seemed warmer than any dragon flame she had known.

She's beaming at him as she takes it, turning it over in her hands before testing its heft and power. "That's remarkable." There was wonder in her voice, true admiration for what he managed. "I've never seen magic like this before." So pure, so innocent and free of the darkness caused by sacrifice.

He's not used to anyone being so happy to see Tianwen. Usually people assume if he brings it out he's about to whip someone (and maybe their reaction to him handing over this weapon would be equally disbelieving). The last time he'd seen such wonder had been that rainy day when he'd decided to take Mo Ran on as a disciple.

He's not sure what to do with it so he turned his head with a huff, embarrassed. "It doesn't seem to be something those who are here are familiar with." He said it gruffly...mostly just because he's embarrassed. Somehow, it was easier when people didn't want to talk to him. "Though it may look like it'd be weak to flames, Tianwen is made from a branch of a celestial willow tree. It will serve your purposes well enough for now."

"Tianwen? That's the name of this?" Weapons often had names. She turned the whip over in her hand curiously. "Is this normally your weapon?" He was kind, either way. Creating it or lending his own, she was grateful. He might be gruff and a bit terse, but it didn't bother her. A small show of concern and kindness was enough for her to treat him similarly.

It was worth testing. Drogon was starting to get aggressive, annoyed at the reaching hands and growing crowd. Dany had to push her way through, doing her best to get closer to him. "Ilagon! ilagon, Drōgon. Kesīr, sir!" ["Down! Down, Drogon! Come, now!] High Valyrian wouldn't mean much, but Drogon would recognize the language.

He jerked back, hissing at first but was quick to calm down. This was at least not the first time she faced him in a dominant manner. He backed down without flame, more quickly than the last time. Finally, he unwound himself and flew towards her, landing on her shoulders. She could breathe a sigh of relief.

"I don't know how to thank you."

"Yes." Yes, Tianwen is the weapon's name. Yes, it's his weapon to use, the one he's most well known for.

Though his answer is simple. Since it applied to both what need was there for further clarification?

He followed her through the crowd, wanting to let her handle this and yet worrying if he might need to help. He was running through the possible actions he could take when the creature returned to her.

"There's no need." He waved her off, "If the worst had happened we all would have been dragged into things." That's his excuse and he'll be offend, angry like a puffed up cat, if anyone tries to argue it. "If you need a whip, we'll have to look for one you can keep."

Because Tianwen is sort of tied to him. Even now, it required his own spiritual energy to keep it summoned. Though that is something he plans to keep to himself.

She offered the whip back to him, imagining it must be tied to him in some way. It was clearly precious and exuded an energy she couldn't describe. There was a bit of sadness to release it, but he made a good point, she could have something made for her use. It might not be magical, but it could be hers.

Her eyes darted back to the crowd where the merchants were watching them, clearly not letting her out of their sight. Drogon had relaxed against her and the rest had stayed back, likely startled by her actions.

"I don't know if they intend to keep me in this city or take me elsewhere. It seems they mean to sell me." She couldn't understand the language, but she recognized the signs.

When she offered it back to him, he nodded and then it disappeared in a gentle flash of light. It was something he could call on at any time, but right now it has done its job.

His gaze follows the direction of hers and when he listens to her concerns he frowns.

"They don't have to right to do that." He says it as if it were a matter of principle, and a little like he would fight anyone who disagreed. In fact, the way he glared at the merchants seem to say that he'd fight them, right here and right now in this place.

She couldn't speak much for right, but they certainly believed they wouldn't be punished for it. It stung and sickened her to be in this position again, once more in an unfamiliar place, a place not home, and pushed about like a leaf in an inferno. She had no real idea what would happen or where she would end up.

"No," she agreed with him. "Are you a native here as well? I didn't think you would understand me?"

So many didn't and she had started to fear that she wouldn't be able to communicate with anyone. Trapped in a city, no way to speak, no idea where she was or how far from home. It was terrifying and made her feel smaller than she was.

"No. I'm--" But he pauses because the translation device they had probably didn't afford them any chance to speak without others understanding them. "I'm not from around here. I have something that acts as a translator. Without it, I doubt I would be able to understand you or you, me."

He studied her for a moment. "Are you new to the city?"

Gods, she had been wishing for a translator, but there didn't seem to be anyone with him, acting in that role. But no, he said something about a "device?" How-? It was too confusing and there was already enough new information to overwhelm her.

"I am, I suppose." Not that she was aware where this city was, how she got here or even if this was where she was meant to stay. "I woke up in the canyon and these refugees found me." What she could gather was that they were fleeing, beyond that, she was helpless.

"I'm Daenerys..." she broke off, leaving out her House name for now.

"Chu Wanning of Sisheng Peak."

Which, given the translators they have may have actually translated that as Peak of Life and Death. He gave the introduction with all the ease of someone who didn't want attention but is confident he won't be recognized here.

"Are you hurt?" If asked he would insist he wasn't concerned (but he was).

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"Why do the gods make kings and queens, if not to protect the ones who can't protect themselves?"

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