The lost Targaryen

Chapter 28

Pov maerya Targaryen
Tyrion and Maerya walked side by side through the ancient halls of Dragonstone, their footsteps echoing against the stone walls. Maerya glanced at Tyrion curiously as they strolled "Who is this woman?" she inquired, her curiosity piqued "A red priestess from Asshai," Tyrion replied, his voice carrying a mix of intrigue and caution. "She is said to be as old as you," he added, his words dripping with intrigue. Maerya's eyes widened in surprise. "Really?" she uttered incredulously. Tyrion nodded, his thoughts lingering on the mystery surrounding the ancient red priestess. "It could be the same power that allows her to have lived so long," he conjectured "Yes" Maerya agreed, her voice tinged with awe

Tyrion and Maerya entered the throne room, their footsteps soft against the cold stone floor. The mysterious red priestess, as ancient as she was, stood before them, her gaze fixed on Daenerys. As they drew closer, the woman turned to face them. Seeing Daenerys, she lowered her head in a reverent bow, her age-old wisdom etched into her weathered features.

The room fell silent as the ancient priestess spoke, her voice a deep and resonant whisper. "Dāria Daenerys," she began, her voice carrying an otherworldly presence. "Nyke istan nykeā buzdari istin sindita se liortan qilonta se ozbārtan ziry iksos nykeā rigle naejot rhaenagon se pryjatys hen belma se"(Queen Daenerys , I was a slave once bought and sold scourged and branded it is an honor to meet the breaker of chains and)

The red priestess turned her gaze towards Maerya, her ancient eyes widening in astonishment. "Ao jurnegon sepār raqagon aōha muñnykeā, maerya targārien," (You look just like your mother , maerya Targaryen )the woman murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Shock washed over Maerya's face as the realization of the red lady's words sank in, her heart skipping a beat.

"Ao gīmigon issa?"( you know me?" The red priestess responded to Maerya's question with a solemn nod, her eyes brimming with wisdom and understanding. Turning her attention to Daenerys, she replied to her query, her voice filled with reverence. "Melisandre," she answered, her name carrying centuries of history and intrigue.

Varys, the Master of Whispers, interjected with a knowing gleam in his eye. "You served another who yearned for the Iron Throne once  Stannis Baratheon," he reminded Melisandre.
She nodded solemnly, her gaze never leaving Daenerys. "It didn't end well for him, did it?" Varys continued, his voice laced with intrigue.
"No," Melisandre responded quietly, her voice carrying an undertone of regret.

Daenerys's gaze shifted toward Varys, a hint of wry amusement in her eyes. "You've quite the sense of timing, Melisandre," she commented, her voice laced with a hint of sarcasm. "We've just decided to pardon those who once served the wrong king" Varys nodded, his expression betraying a hint of knowing understanding.

Melisandre listened intently as Daenerys posed her question, her gaze steady and contemplative "The Lord of Light does not yet have many servants in Westeros," Melisandre replied, her voice calm and confident. "But even those who do not worship him can still act in his service" Daenerys's eyes flickered with curiosity as she pressed further "Then tell me, what does your Lord expect from me?" she inquired, her voice tinged with determination.

Melisandre's voice echoed with conviction as she spoke, her words heavy with prophecy and portent. "Se dārys bantis, iksos māzis mērī se prince qilōni istan promised, kostagon maghagon se dawn," (The king night is coming only the prince who was promised can bring the dawn)she revealed, her eyes never leaving Daenerys's.

Melisandre's eyes softened as she regarded Daenerys, a hint of sympathy flickering within them. "The prince who was promised shall bring the dawn," she confirmed, her voice filled with solemnity.Daenerys replied, her voice carrying a wry undertone. "Unfortunately, I'm not a prince" Missandei, the intelligent and articulate advisor, stepped forward with a firm yet respectful tone. "Your Grace," she interjected, her voice clear and steady. "I must respectfully correct you. The noun in the prophecy has no gender in High Valyrian. The correct translation would be 'the prince or *princess* who was promised shall bring the dawn"

Tyrion chuckled wryly, his dry wit finding humor in the situation. "No, it doesn't quite roll off the tongue, does it?" he mused aloud.
Daenerys's eyes locked on Melisandre's, her gaze unwavering. "You believe this prophecy refers to me," she stated,

Melisandre's gaze shifted towards Maerya, a soft smile playing on her lips as she spoke. "You are Princess Maerya Targaryen," she confirmed, her voice tinged with a hint of awe.
Maerya's eyes widened in surprise at the realization. "You remember me?" she asked, a mixture of disbelief and curiosity in her voice.
Melisandre nodded, her smile growing slightly. "Yes, I do. I remember seeing you when I was younger," she affirmed,Maerya was taken aback by the revelation. "You come from my time"

Melisandre's smile widened slightly in response to Maerya's remark. "Indeed, prophecies can be both enlightening and fraught with danger," she admitted, her voice tinged with wisdom. Her gaze then shifted to Daenerys, a knowing glint in her eyes. "You speak of the King in the North, Jon Snow," Melisandre said.

Tyrion's eyebrow arched in surprise upon hearing the mention of Jon Snow. "Jon Snow, Ned Stark's bastard?" he exclaimed, his tone tinged with skepticism.
"You know him?" Daenerys echoed Tyrion's surprise , Tyrion odded. "I do," she confirmed. "I journeyed with him to the Wall when he joined the Night's Watch," Tyrion added, his voice betraying a hint of recollection.

Varys, intrigued, directed a question at Melisandre: "And why do you believe the Lord of Light has singled out this John Snow, apart from the visions you've seen in the flames?"
Melisandre met Varys' gaze with a steady calm.

Melisandre's expression held a touch of admiration as she spoke about Jon Snow. "As Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, he allowed the Wildlings south of the wall to protect them from grave danger," she recounted, her voice filled with a strange mix of awe and respect. "And as King in the North, he managed to unite those Wildlings with the Northern Houses, bringing them together as one force to confront their common foe" Daenerys listened intently, her interest piqued by Melisandre's words. "He sounds like quite a man" she mused, her voice hushed.

Melisandre voice rang with determination. "Summon Jon Snow," she commanded. "I want him to stand before me, to tell us the things that have happened to him and the things he has seen with his own eyes" Tyrion and maerya  exchanged a look, their curiosity piqued by the sudden request. Tyrion, ever the voice of reason, spoke up, his tone measured and thoughtful. "I cannot speak to the accuracy of prophecies or visions in the flames," he admitted, "but I can tell you this: I like Jon Snow, I trusted him, and I am an excellent judge of character" Tyrion paused, his gaze shifting towards Daenerys. "If he does indeed rule the North, he would make a valuable ally. And, mind you, he has even more reason to hate Cersei than you do," he added, his voice tinged with a hint of sarcasm.
Daenerys's voice rang out, firm yet tinged with eagerness. "Very well," she declared. "Send a raven north. Tell Jon Snow that his queen invites him to come to Dragonstone and bend the knee"