READER'S DISCRETION ADVISED
THIS STORY CONTAINS MAN ON MAN, WOMAN ON WOMAN, GRAPHIC SCENES, RAPE, GORE, SMUT, AND STRONG LANGUAGE.
DISCLAIMER
I DO NOT OWN THE GAME OF THRONE SERIES OR SOME OF THE CHARACTERS OR ANY SCENES THAT MAY LOOK FAMILIAR.
}¡{ DAENERYS }¡{
The light of the sun streams between the branches of trees, creating dapple patterns upon the forest floor.
A butterfly flutters up and down, its wings beating in the warm air. Their beauty is like painted purple silk and as delicate as rice paper. It alights upon a flower and folds its wings nearly upward.
A large black paw lands near the flower and the insect, but the butterfly doesn't flee. Not even when the animal sniffs at it curiously, a hrakkar. The beast is a large feline the size of a horse with snow-white fur, aside from the bushy mane around its neck, paws, and tip of its thick tail. It also has a patch of black fur upon its forehead that resembles a diamond. It lifts its head and opens its mouth wide to yawn, exposing its razor sharp teeth though its dagger-long fangs are always on display even after it finishes.
The hrakkar continues on its way through the lush forest, soon coming upon the one and only Danearys Targaryen.
The Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea sits at the base of a tree. A breeze causes the branches to shake in a magnificent rage and a myriad of leaves fall loose like snow. Her violet eyes watch as they skitter and dance in the toying wind as if they have life.
Her lips spread into a smile and she looks down at her swollen belly when she feels her son, The Stallion Who Mounts The World, move within.
She quickly looks up when a twig snaps beneath the large paw of the hrakkar. With wide eyes she remains still as it approaches her slowly. Once close enough the beast's golden eyes gaze at her. They seem to hold an intelligence not commonly seen in any animal.
The hrakkar towers over the silver-haired woman, slowly moving its head down towards her belly. Danearys is frozen with fear and prepares for the worse, for its claws and fangs to tear into her flesh. But the large cat just simply places the tip of its snout where her son grows inside her.
After a long moment, Danearys lifts her hand and reaches to touch the large cat, but once her fingers graze the soft fur the loud whine of a horse suddenly sounds.
She looks over as the flap of the tent is cut open and in enters four lajak with Drogo's mighty red. Soon the witch comes into her sight, chanting strange words as she approaches the horse. Danearys's eyes drift to where her husband lays on the ground in the middle of the tent. His skin having a sickly pale hue, beads of sweat dotting his brows, and his mouth slightly open. Her throat becomes tight and tears begin to swell in her eyes as she places her hand over her womb once more.
The witch then turns to her. "You will see exactly what life is worth when all the rest has gone…"
Danearys's eyes snap open and her body shakes lightly as she breathes in quick pants.
She props herself up onto her elbows as she looks around the tent. The rays of the sun filter through the brown fabric, giving it a beautiful golden hue. All appears as it should be; no Mirri, no horse, and the only hrakkar is the one with instead a white mane long killed and turned into her cloak.
"Zhey jalan atthirari anni?" Moon of my life? The familiar deep voice of her husband says.
She looks over to find him sitting at the small table, dressed for the day and already breaking his fast.
Drogo gets to his feet and comes over to kneel by her side of the bed, gently placing a hand on her cheek. "Fini atthirarido addrekat yeri laqikh?" What dreams causes your tears?
Danearys issues a small smile and places her hand over his. "Jisse athdrivarido, shekh ma shieraki anni." Just a nightmare, my sun and stars.
Drogo moves in and kisses her moist cheeks before touching his lips to hers, then he rises to his feet again. She watches as he moves to the other side of the tent to take up his arakh before leaving. Her throat becomes a bit tight, but she pushes back the tears and gets out of bed.
As she breaks her fast her handmaids- Doreah, Irri, and Jhiqui- bring in the large wooden bath into the tent. Once it is set the two Dothraki women leave to bring in buckets of hot water. After her bath Doreah helps braid her hair and she dresses into her comfortable riding clothes.
As Danearys makes her way through the khalasar she is met with staring eyes. A few faces smile, most remain neutral, and some openly scowl. But over time she learned to easily ignore the negative gazes. The one thing she could never ignore is the females of the great tribe. The little giggling girls as they chase one another, babies suckling at their mother's breasts, and mother's with swollen bellies ready to bring new life sometime soon.
A joy that I will never have….
}¡{ DROGO }¡{
Under the watchful eye of the scorching sun Drogo and some of the khas are catching their horses for the day's ride. Already on his red he chases after Daenerys's silver filly. And running alongside the beautiful mare is her new foal, sired by his previous steed. It's a gorgeous little thing with a vibrant hide the color of fire.
Had our son lived most likely that would have been his first horse….
As everyone begins to set out, two of Drogo's bloodriders ride on either side of him in the front of the clan. His khalasar which is now of fifteen thousand, less than half the size from before and no longer the largest khalasar. That day three moons ago when he became ill two of his own bloodriders, Pono and Jhaqo, declared themselves as khals. The memory of their betrayal makes him clench his fist so tightly that if the reins were instead bones they'd turn to dust by the grip.
At some point he spots his woman wife stopped on the side of the path with her three bloodriders; Jhogo, Aggo, and Rakharo were given the high rank and greatly rewarded for their loyalty. Even Drogo rewarded his fellow brothers; Qotho, Haggo, and Cohollo. Drogo then takes notice of Jorah the Andal going to halt his steed beside Daenerys, it is nice to see that she still has someone- other than her handmaids- to talk to.
Especially since not many words have been exchanged between the married couple themselves for a time. No, since that dreadful day there's been a bit of a strain on the two. Drogo would mainly spend his waking hours keeping busy on minimal tasks or drinking with his bloodriders and other close friends. The only time he and Daenerys are ever alone together is late at night when she has already gone to sleep and he lays by her side. And when they do find themselves in each other's company for some reason, like say due to rain, they'd still keep to themselves.
Normally Drogo would have had her discarded and take a new wife. Or simply just laid with another woman that would give him a son. Or at the very least claim one of those born from the women he laid with in the past. But Drogo refuses, despite the urgings of his fellow brothers suggesting to do so. No, he loves that woman too much to do such things.
I care not if she is barren, she will always be the moon of my life….
}¡{ VISERYS }¡{
The Dragon Prince almost cringes in the midst of his movements as the woman below him moans. God, he's heard fucked pigs who make better sounds than this whore. He thrust into her again and she cries out in that whinnying voice.
"Get out." Viserys says as he abruptly pulls out of her, ignoring her annoying mewls.
His body doesn't protest at the sudden stop of the orgasmic activity, though he highly doubts that he'd be able to achieve it. Not because he lacks sexual prowess- no that is far from it, but because he may actually become deaf before he reaches his climax. Or before that, he just might beat the whore for being so bloody damn high-pitched.
"Get out," he says again as he rises from the bed. "I am done."
He takes up his long-sleeved dark brown shirt that had been discarded over the back of a chair and slips it on. Then he walks over to the table in the middle of the room and pours himself a cup of wine. As he takes a sip of the spirit he walks out onto the balcony, before him the narrow sea shimmers like a myriad of turquoise gems under the midday sun. And just beyond the waters his birthplace, Dragonstone, calls to him. It is also where that Usurper sits upon The Iron Throne, his birthright.
"Good day, brother." a familiar voice greets.
"What is so good about it, Rhaegar?" Viserys responds bitterly.
Beside the Dragon Prince did Rhaegar lean against the stone beam. He is taller than Viserys a good half foot and shares the traditional Valyrian appearance; fair skin, long silver-blond hair, and purple eyes. He dons a simple brown coat that laces up the chest, black felt pants, and boots.
"What troubles you, brother?"
"Do you know what today is?"
Rhaegar doesn't respond.
"It's our sister's fifteenth nameday." Viserys continues. "It's been one year. A whole bloody year! And I am still here!"
"Ah I see. As Illyrio had told you on the day of Dany's wedding, the khal has promised you a crown and you shall have it."
"But when!? I gave him my sister and who I am certain that surely by now has given him a son!"
"Oh you haven't heard have you? Daenerys did indeed bear the khal a son, but our new nephew never drew his first breath."
Viserys sighs and mutters under his breath. "Worthless good for nothing girl. Can't even do that right."
The Dragon Prince goes to take another drink of wine, only to find his cup empty.
"Peace brother," Rhaegar says as he follows him back inside. "You shall have all that was promised to you and more."
"But how much longer!?" Viserys says as he pours more wine into the cup. "I've waited eighteen years to claim that which is mine."
"The Dothraki are true to their word but do things in their own time."
Viserys doesn't respond as he takes a long drink.
"Say, me and Illyrio are about to head out into the city to meet some of his acquaintances. How about you accompany us. I'm sure they'd appreciate your presence."
"Sitting around and listening to old men tell stories. I have better things to do with my day, bastard."
Rhaegar looks at his brother for a brief moment, then issues a small smile before turning to leave.
}¡{RHAEGAR}¡{
The soles of Rhaegar's boots tap against the polished marble floor as he makes his way down the hall, soon emerging into the gardens.
He stares blankly at the stone path he strolls upon, memories of when he and his little sister Daenerys use to spend together flow through his mind. He would usually play his silver-stringed harp, sometimes the two would sing together or Daenerys would be reading a book. Now she is thousands of miles away with that scourge of the Dothraki Sea.
Selling the last of his family as a way to get the throne back. Rhaegar thought to himself destestably.
Of course he never had any say in the matter, Viserys made that perfectly clear.
Bastard…
It never fails to amaze him how much things had changed in an instant just because of that title.
When it was somehow revealed that his mother had laid with a knight before her unpleasant marriage to Aerys, the second of his name, those who he thought were his allies had turned. He of course lost his claim to the throne, which he never really cared about anyway. No, all that he ever truly cared for was taken from him after he had lost the battle at the Trident against that worthless king Robert Baratheon.
A sigh escapes Rhaegar's lips, and something from the corner of his eye makes him stop.
Perched upon a finely trimmed hedge is a white bird. At first he thought it was a dove but immediately noticed it was too large and its beak was too broad. No, the avian was no doubt a raven.
Rhaegar lifts a curious brow as the bird looks back at him with those small glossy black orbs. A white raven in Pentos? How-
"Sir Rhaegar," a voice says from behind.
The silver-haired man turns to see a servant approaching him.
"The Magister is waiting,"
Rhaegar nods and turns to look back at the white raven, only to find it gone.
AUTHOR'S NOTES
And that concludes the first chapter.
Okay a fanfic that isn't about my usual fandom preference, those of you who are familiar with my works. So my friend has urged me to get caught up with Game Of Thrones before the last season comes out. Now I haven't gotten further than the first season because, like a lot of people I trust, after Drogo died I just stopped. I swear I loved the Drogo and Daenerys couple so much that I just couldn't get over it. But of course my friend said I have to because of Daenerys growth throughout the whole series along with other characters.
While I was binging I got into looking up theories on what would have happened if my precious Drogo hadn't died.
Well, here is my version. Another addition to the many fanfics involving the beloved couple lol. Hope you guys are excited for more. But of course all great things come to those who wait.
Until next time, as always, stay awesome loves!:)