❛ Daenerys Targaryen is brought back to life by a Red Priestess, but there's a condition - she must be sent back in time to save her dynasty. ❜
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───
Daen...
Her head felt as though it was going to slip open any second. She tried to put her focus on the winds rushing around her as Drogon flew them back into the forrest. Daenerys tried her best to make sense of her situation but could not. She needed answers.
Once Drogon landed, the Mother of Dragons was quick to dismount. "Witch!" She called out into the empty forrest. Only the sound of rustling leaves in the wind answered her back. "Where is it Drogon?" Bewildered, she spun around in search of the quaint cottage.
"I need answers!" Daenerys shouted into the breezy woods. She walked around only to come to a circle. With a sigh of defeat, she slumped down next to Drogon. "Please," Daenerys begged with tears threatening to spill. Reaching her hands into the dirt, she clutched hard until her blood pulsed. "Come now, what did the dirt do to deserve that?" The witch chided walking towards the silver girl. "Let's get you cleaned up."
The witch helped guide the disoriented queen into the cottage. "You do know my name is not witch, right?" The older woman bustled through her cabinets searched for her herbs and tea. "Who are you then?" Daenerys found herself asking in a soft voice. "Ambre Waters. Just Ambre though," She answered while boiling water for her tea. "So, are you ready to listen this time around?"
Daenerys nodded with a sigh. "The answers you seek are contained in the leathers your dragon has." Turing to peer at Drogon, she recognized the leather bag attached to his foot. Something she hadn't noticed before in her blind rage. "After you've finished your readings, I can answer any further questions you have."
Drogon waddled as close to the cottage as he could get with his great size. Walking back outside, she unwrapped the leather bag and brought it into the cottage. Taking a seat at the small wooden table, Daenerys spilled the contents within the bag. Books flying out onto the creaky old table. Looking through each of them she began to sort everything — herbs, potions, histories, and a smaller crimson book. Her hands fell upon the deep red book and began to flip through the pages. She gasped while reading the few bits of the first page.
"Grey Worm..." Tears painted the page, nearly ruining the paper. "Here, don't ruin that book now..." Ambre handed the queen a handkerchief which she took graciously.
"How could Grey Worm have done this for me?" She felt the immense pain and guilt pierced her heart like a million swords. "Because he like everyone else has a path — a duty to serve."
"Serve whom?" "You."
"Why me? I failed them all. Killed so many innocent people in my grief." She felt overwhelmed by the guilt reminiscing the sound of the dreaded bells mixed with screams. "Because you are who the great Rhllor chose. Daenerys you are the promised princess — the Azor Ahai." A serious look overcame Ambre's features. "I do not believe in prophecies," She scoffed with a shake of her head. "How could you not? 'He shall be born again amidst smoke and salt. He shall wake dragons out of stone. He shall draw from the fire a burning sword, Lightbringer.' Any of this sound familiar?"
