A/N: So this is my first attempt at fanfiction. I'm still new at this so I thought at starting off with a one-shot. This fanfic is mostly based on the TV show with some material from the book. Contains some sexual content, you've been warned.
Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or A Song of Ice and Fire. All rights go to HBO and George RR Martin.
Enjoy!
It was as though she had fallen into a sea of darkness - senseless, hopeless and helpless. She couldn't even move, like her hands and feet were bound tight and she was forced to watch as images unfold before her eyes. Visions of that house with a red door, her cruel brother, a gallant knight with a three-headed dragon sigil sewn on his breastplate and a gargantuan dragon engulfing her puny figure with its fiery breath haunted her mind. But all those dreams ended in the same manner - falling into the bottomless sea of darkness.
However, when Daenerys Targaryen finally woke up, she found herself on the furs that had served as a makeshift bed for her and her sun-and-stars. A spot where they had made love countless times and also where he had showed her a side that not a khal would usually show in the khalasar. She found herself curled around a dragon egg, the cream-and-gold one, like how a mother would cuddle her newborn babe in her sleep.
Her neck and shoulders were stiff. How many days had she slept? Or was it weeks? She tried to turn over to her side, expecting her sun-and-stars to be beside her. But something was amiss. She could not feel his warmth, and she knew she had forgotten something very important. When she immediately twisted to her side, the privy area between her thighs screamed in pain, and her groans spread throughout the tent. That raw feeling between her thighs halted her movement, and she didn't open her eyes until the pain faded a little. She caught the sight of Ser Jorah Mormont a few feet from her bed, a look of pure guilt clearly written on his creased face. His longsword was unsheathed, and he was clad in full steel armor.
"Ser Jorah," Dany whispered. She was worried that he might not hear her as his eyes were focused elsewhere, his mind seemingly in deep thought. But abruptly he looked up from his thoughts and met her violet eyes. He stood, sheathed his longsword and quickly went to her side.
"Gently," he slowly and cautiously helped he up, her wince of pain did not go unnoticed. He propped a few pillows behind her to support her back. When Dany relaxed into the pile of pillows, she tried to recall what had caused such pain on her womanly area, why Drogo was missing and why Ser Jorah seemed so guilty.
Then, she looked down at her flat belly and remembered Rhaego.
Ser Jorah said nothing, only giving her a cup of water to soothe her sore throat. All the while he did not dare to meet her nervous and tired glances. And her gut sank each time she wondered what had caused her bear so much guilt.
"Rhaego," she croaked, her voice hoarse as though she had screamed at the sky for days. "Where is my son?"
Dany's growing anxiety increased tenfold when she noticed how Jorah swallowed hard and hesitated to answer her question. That reaction from him alone had told her what she had to know. Still, she needed to hear the truth.
After what seemed like forever, Ser Jorah looked at her with resentment and despair in his eyes. "The boy did not live," he said. Those words left her speechless, and hurt her worse than Viserys' torture.
Her emotions threatened to pour, but no, she would not allow it. Not now. I am the blood of the dragon, Dany told herself. The blood of the dragon does not weep. Her gaze fell to the floor of her tent. "Tell me," she said with a flat and even tone.
"What is there to tell?" he asked.
"How did my son die?!" she yelled. Impatience and anger got the better of her. Dany could have raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face for his insolence. But that look of guilt that was imprinted on his face reminded her that he was not responsible for the death of her firstborn child. He had saved her from Qotho who had pushed her aside as though he was swatting a fly. And it had been Jorah who had carried her to the midwife when her water broke.
"He never lived, my princess. The women said..." his voice trailed away.
Daenerys was running out of patience. "What did the woman say?" she asked with a soft and weary voice.
Jorah gulped before answering. "The women said the child was-"
"- Monstrous," behind Jorah suddenly stood Mirri Maaz Duur, as though she had appeared out of thin air. Her face hung a look of content and sheer bliss. "Twisted. I pulled him out myself," she continued, as she took a slow step towards Daenerys. "He was scaled like a lizard, blind, with the leather wings like the wings of a bat. When I touched him his skin fell from his bones. Inside, he was full of graveworms,"
Jorah turned back and shot her a warning glance, his hand lightly touching the hilt of his sword. Mirri Maaz Duur stopped moving towards her, the smile fell from her face. "I told you that only death can pay for life," she shrugged. "You knew the price,"
Dany could have wailed and shrieked and cursed at the Gods for taking her son's life even before he could see the world. She could have rushed forward and clawed at that wretched woman's face just to get that cruel smile off her face. But she couldn't. Dany was too weak and tired to do any of it. The price was too high, she realized. And in her desperation to save Drogo, who was dying and speaking incoherent words with his chest wound black and filled with oozing pus, she had been oblivious to the consequences of her actions. No, she would not show this woman any weakness. Drogo, she thought. He might still be alive. She may not have lost everything. There was still hope.
"Where is Khal Drogo?": her voice was full of anger and malice. Jorah looked back at her with a pleading look, hoping that she would stay put and rest for a little while longer. But Daenerys had rested too long. "Show him to me. Show me what I have bought with my son's life,"
Mirri Maaz Duur only smiled at her, nodded and walked out of the tent. Ser Jorah could have tried to convince her to lay down and rest until she felt stronger to be able to stand on her own two feet, but he knew what it was like to face the dragon's wrath. And Daenerys had just knew what happened to her firstborn son.
He led her out of the tent without a question.
The darkness was imminent. The stalks of grass swayed to the slightest whisper of the wind. Somewhere in the Great Grass Sea, three quarters of Drogo's khalasar rode off with new khals who were formerly Drogo's bloodriders. What was left of his own khalasar was old men, women with suckling babes, weak men who could barely lift a sword and green boys who were yet to deserve a braid. Even good, strong and sure-footed horses were taken, and food and water had become a scarcity in the dying khalasar.
Khal Drogo would eat when he was fed, would drink when he was given water. Yet his eyes were blank and his gaze would remained fixed in a distance as though in a trance. He would not response when he was asked a question, as if he was robbed of his hearing and sight. And even when Daenerys kissed him on the lips, his expression remained blank and he did not kiss her back.
Dany's bloodriders - Aggo, Jhogo and Rakharo, helped her carry their khal into her tent, a place where she had called home after that house with the red door in Braavos.
She remembered how Ser Willem Darry had always been like the father she had never had the chance to meet, who died before she could see the world. So when Ser Willem died, she was devastated. What hurt her more was when his servants threw her and Viserys out of the house and claimed the house as their own. Daenerys had screamed and cried, begged her brother to stay and do something. Viserys not only paid her no heed, he dragged her across the cold wet ground, her wrist so tight in his grasp she was worried that it might fall off. But when Dany started calling Ser Willem 'father', Viserys turned immediately to face her, slapped her hard across the face and yelled at her. "He's not father. Our father was dead long ago. Killed by the Usurper and his dogs! Have you forgotten how Princess Rhaenys was stabbed half a hundred times, and how Prince Aegon who was barely a year old had his head bashed against the wall?! Brother was killed. And you killed Mother! Or she would still be here with us!" Viserys was now on the verge of tears, he always was each time he spoke of their dead mother. "You little bitch! Where's your grief for them?! And here you are crying for a man who was just our father's servant!"
Dany only cowered and whimpered in fear from his seething anger, afraid that her sobs would fuel his anger. In the end, Viserys only sighed and lifted her from the ground, her arms immediately wrapped around his neck and she buried her tear-stained face into his shoulders. The red mark on her cheek did not fade for days.
Now Daenerys was almost a woman grown. She had pleasured her sun-and-stars in all ways possible. She had watched as Khal Drogo poured a cauldron of molten gold onto Viserys' head. She had used her power as a true khaleesi, which others had never done before, to claim a few slaves as her own seeing that she could not bear watching them raped by other riders. Yet the slave she had just saved had betrayed her and doomed her child and husband. Her breasts now swelled and her womanhood was still raw from the recent birth.
Dany looked at Drogo's catatonic form, his eyes staring into nothingness as she brought in a basin of water. The pain between her thighs made her want to curl in a corner and sleep, but she had been asleep for far too long. She owed this night to Drogo.
She threw in a piece of cloth into the basin to soak it, twisted the cloth to dry it and turned to her sun-and-stars' unresponsive face. She held back her tears and managed a smile. "Do you still remember our first ride, my sun-and-stars?" her mind replayed the memories when he had first mounted her from behind to consummate their marriage, and that night where she had looked upon his face and rode him fiercely. That night, he had held her to him and showered her with kisses, revealing a side of him which she thought never existed. That was the night he first called her the moon of his life, and Daenerys had never felt so loved by a man she feared.
"You are strong," Daenerys said, wiping the dirt and grime off his bare chest with the wet cloth. "You had always been a fierce fighter. You were born to hold an arakh, to be a Khal. You could have anything you want, no one would dare refuse you, whether it be gold or women.
"And yet you chose me, a foreign girl from a land you had never even seen before, even if your bloodriders disagreed. I was meek and timid and first, inexperienced in the arts of love. I could not bring you pleasure, and it hurt. Yet you always watched out for me. After we had looked upon each other on that night, you never left me alone again. You took care of me and showed me that there is still hope and love in this foreign world, even if it meant going against the Dothraki traidition.
"And do you remember when I told you that I was with child?" Dany smiled as she remembered how happy Khal Drogo had been. "When I saw how happy you were, I realized that it didn't matter anymore. My past was gone and I had found a new home. I no longer have to run away from the Usurper's knives or live in fear each day. Because I know you will protect us no matter what.
"When you swore to the Mother of the Mountains that you were willing to cross the poison waters to Westeros to claim the Iron Throne for me, for Rhaego, I was so happy. Happy, but scared too. You were willing to sail the seas which no other Khals had dared to do. You were so brave, Drogo, yet I feared for you. It was what I wanted, but what if I lost you during the war? Would it be worth it?"
She leaned forward and looked into his eyes, the eyes she had come to love. "I was weak and scared for the fourteen years of my life, but you made me into who I am today. With you, I feel safe, loved, protected from Viserys' beatings. They said you are dead because they don't understand. They don't see the strength in you," her palm rested on his cheek. "You are somewhere far away, but I know you are in there. Please, return to me, my sun-and-stars,"
Dany waited, her heart hammering hard against her chest. She waited for signs; a twicth in his fingers, or any sudden movement of his body. But Khal Drogo only kept staring at the ceiling, paying no heed to her words.
Only death can pay for life, Dany remembered Mirri Maaz Duur's dark words. Her heart sank with grief and resentment. This is not life, she thought. Life is where Drogo's laughter could be heard when he drank with his bloodriders. Life is where he fought fiercely against his enemies as he rode atop his red stallion. Life is where her sun-and-stars would lay naked with her in bed, worshipping her body and touching her as though he was afraid he might break her.
Dany tried other ways. The pain was too much for her to ride him, but she tried to pleasure him with her hands. She held his flaccid manhood moved her hands up and down his length, hoping for some response from him. Then she took his manhood into her mouth. This had always been his favorite position, as he would always spill his seed into her sweet mouth just after a few thrusts. Daenerys kissed the crown of his cock and moved her lips up and down his shaft, her tiny hands holding the base of his manhood and caressing his balls. However, he remained soft in her mouth. Dany then moved faster and tried swirling her tongue around the thick shaft.
This will not work, a sinister voice in her mind echoed darkly. It will never work, She only gripped his cock tighter and went on a faster pace. No, she told herself. He will come back to me. He will. I know he will.
She tried and tried and tried. First, with her hands then again her mouth. She tried to swallow him whole until she gagged, and continued moving her lips up and down his length. Her hands gripped the furs tightly, her eyes scrunched shut to keep the tears at bay.
Eventually, Daenerys could not hold it back anymore. Her shoulders started shaking as tears flowed freely, running down her cheeks and staining Drogo's groin and the furs below. She sobbed, his manhood did not even twitch in her mouth. His warmth was there, and she could see the rise and fall of his chest, but Dany felt like she was making love to a cadaverous man. A man she loved dearly.
She finally gave up and slipped his manhood out of her mouth. Immediately, her cries echoed throughout the tent. She wailed, begged and pleaded him to at least show her that he had not left her alone in this cruel world. She shook him with her weak arms, sobbing and shaking as hot tears filled with grief and regret soaked the furs and the catatonic man beneath her.
Exhaustion soon kicked in as her love-making moments ago started to take its toll on her. She climbed up to Drogo's side and laid down beside him. She buried her face into the spot where his neck and his shoulder met, inhaling his familiar scent of horses and wood smoke. Dany's shaking fingers tangled into his beard and travelled down his chest and stomach, trailing the scars and wounds that scattered across his body from years of numerous battles and duels.
"When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east," she choked on her tears, inhaled deeply before continuing. "Until the rivers run dry, and the mountains blow in the wind like leaves. Until my womb quickens, and I bear another living child, then you shall return to me, my sun-and-stars, but not before,"
When the witch told her that she can never carry another child again, it hurt her. Daenerys was still young, yet she was barren. Her brothers, son and husband were dead and now she could never have children again. What good is a woman if she could never bear a living child again? Daenerys had never felt so alone in her life.
Dany looked up to him and smiled, remembering that he had once complimented her and said how much it meant to him to see her smile. She leaned forwards and pressed her lips to his for the very last time, her tears threatening to break free again. She tried to memorize this moment, the feeling when his lips pressed against hers, how strong his arms felt when she held him even though he was catatonic. Somehow, she had a feeling she would never cease to miss it.
She reached out and took a pillow beside Drogo, and hovered it over her sun-and-star' face. Mustering her dwindling energy and courage, Daenerys pressed hard. She could feel him struggling for air beneath her, his arms trembling and his body shaking. She was tempted to remove the pillow and see if he had truly woken, but she only pressed the pillow more firmly, her sobs getting louder and the tremor in her shoulders grew. If Drogo had truly returned, he would have attempted to grab the pillow that was sapping his life.
After Drogo had grown still, his lifeless body on the bed and his arms no longer struggling, Dany removed the pillow. She moved her hand to his eyelids and closed his eyes that had lost the spark of life. Somewhere in the back of Dany's mind, she knew that Drogo was already dead the moment his wound had festered. She just wasn't ready to accept it yet. And now she had no choice but to accept that her husband was dead.
Daenerys laid down on the bed beside her dead husband and closed her eyes, her mind weary and tired after the night. Her tears had gone dry and her voice was hoarse after hours of crying. There was still warmth in Drogo's body but she knew when she woke up the next morning what was left of him would be a cold, lifeless corpse.
Still, accepting the fact that he was dead did not mean that she was ready to part with him.
The stars had littered the sky as night was swiftly approaching, the sun slowly sinking its way down the horizon. Ser Jorah and Dany's bloodriders had built a funeral pyre for Drogo with remnants scrapped from broken tents and twigs and branches that they could find throughout the barren land. Daenerys watched as Drogo was placed within the pyre, then his belongings - his arakh, Dothraki clothing, saddle and other valuable items. She had watched them do everything, with her face impassive and heart hardened to stone, not allowing her weaknesses or fears to show.
That night, Daenerys had worn her wedding dress. Her hair was braided Dothraki style and she saw from the corner of her eye that Ser Jorah was throwing anxious glances at her. He thought that she might join Drogo on the ride to the Night Lands, which she only chuckled and kissed his cheek, reassuring him that he had nothing to worry about.
Daenerys insisted that her dragon eggs be placed beside Drogo, despite Jorah's reasoning that she could sell the eggs and live the rest of her life as a wealthy woman. But what good is wealth, if her sun-and-stars was gone?
The dying khalasar stood huddled around the pyre. The wind howled and the tall grasses of the Dothraki sea swayed, as though mocking the khalasar's sorry state. Stioll, Daenerys stood with a steely demeanor. She is the blood of the dragon, and a dragon shows no fear.
"You will be my khalasar!" Daenerys balled her hands into fists and shouted at the top of her lungs. "I see the faces of slaves. I free you. Go anywhere you want, and no one will harm you. Follow me, and it will be as brothers and sisters, husbands and wives!"
And as soon as she had said it, some people started moving away from the crowd like ants scurrying away from danger. She watched as more people left, clenching her fists as her heard filled with anxiety, fear and uncertainty. Most of those who were leaving were young boys, who still stood a chance at seeing the world. Only the old men and weak women stayed, as they realized they had nowhere to go. Dany could feel that the stoic look and steel demeanor she had carefully formed was threatening to crumble. However, when she saw Mirri snicker at her current condition, it fueled her wrath. This woman deserved to burn as repentance to what she had done to her unborn child and her sun-and-stars.
"Ser Jorah, bind this woman to the pyre," Daenerys commanded, her tone was merciless and brook no argument. Jorah did as he was told like the faithful servant that he was. Dany turned to what was remained of Drogo's khalasar, which she had freed and now belonged to her.
"I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen," she declared, her confidence returning once more. "I am the Dragon's daughter. And I promise you, those who bring you harm will die screaming!"
"You will not hear me scream!" the maegi shouted.
"Yes I will!" Daenerys snapped, ignoring the searing glare of the witch upon her back. "But it is not your screams I want," she muttered under her breath, her voice so soft only she could hear them. "Only your life,"
Dany's wedding dress flapped noisily to the wind as she turned to the pyre. Rakharo handed over a burning torch, which she held tightly in her hand and lit the pyre. Like the flash of lightning, the flames from the torch spread to the twigs and branches surrounding the pyre, and immediately the whole pyre was ablaze. Dany stood back and watched wood crumble, the fire growing larger and climbed as high as the night sky. The light was blinding, and the witch began to wail.
Soon, wails turned to screams. Daenerys watched the woman burn, her body thrashing back and forth in pain. She then watched as the fire began to consume the wooden pyre where Khal Drogo laid. Her sun-and-stars was on fire, and the orange flames flickered and danced to the song of the howling wind.
The fire was, oh, so beautiful. Daenerys found herself mesmerized by the beauty of it. She felt herself drawn to it, to the writhing behemoth that turned from red to orange to yellow, as if it was imploring her to join its devilish dance. Daenerys knew she was too close to the burning pyre as smoke started to sting her eyes. She could feel the scorching heat, yet it felt more like a gentle caress to her skin. The hem of her dress flapped around wildly as the heat climbed to its peak. Even Jorah stood back, unbearable of the intense heat which started making him perspiring profusely. But Daenerys was the child of fire born during a storm, and the heat did not bother her.
Mirri had stopped screaming by then, her corpse nothing more than a victim of the hungry flames that engulfed her entire body. Dany could feel someone calling her, persuading her to step into the raging hell and join him. Just when she was attracted by the sight of the bright, raging pyre and the sounds of the fire cracking and spitting, an image of Drogo cracking his whip while atop his red stallion conjured in her mind.
She knew it, then.
Dany looked at Jorah, who was already sweating profusely, and took a step forward. Realizing what she was doing, Jorah attempted to grab her arm and hold her back. But she was far too close and the hem of her dress caught fire. Yet, Dany did not seem to feel it.
She walked into the fire until only shadows could be seen when she took a backward glance. All shouts and yells were drowned out by the roars and grumbles of the fire. Her dress was already burnt to crisp. The fire only danced around her, engulfing her in an orange cocoon of heat, but the harmful flames felt ticklish to her skin. Instead of pain, she felt security.
When she looked upon the raging pyre that stood a few feet higher than her, Daenerys' breath hitched. The scent of burnt flesh and wood smoke hung heavy in the air, but what stood in front of the pyre made her gasp. Within the flames, she could trace Khal Drogo's frame, mounted on his fiery red stallion that whinnied and pawed the ground. His left hand held a burning whip, his right an arakh.
She took a shaky step forward and fell to her knees. Tears welled up in her eyes, but the moment they fell, the intense heat turned it into steam. Drogo dismounted, his form flickering in the flames. He looked as though he was on fire, his figure drawn by the flames. When he smiled at her, he looked so fierce, so wild and beautiful.
Daenerys could not find the strength in her to stand, so she looked up at him with her eyes brimmed with tears. She wanted him. Hell, she needed him. "T-Take me," she stammered, her gasps making it hard to speak. "Please, my sun-and-stars, take me to the Night Lands with you," she was begging now.
Drogo approached her, knelt on one knee and cupped her face with his large fiery hands. The flames were like a warm caress to her cheeks. "It was a brave thing did last night. I wish I could tell you how beautiful you were, and how much your words meant to me. Yet I couldn't," he looked down sadly.
Dany tried to hold his hand, but her fingers passed through them. She was crying hard now.
"But you must live," Drogo insisted. "You have an important role ahead of you. Dangerous, but important," his fingers stroked her cheek lightly, which made her cry harder. "Those people out there are lost. You will need to guide them. They need a leader. They need you,"
"What good is life if I am going to be lonely for the rest of it? Without you?" she asked.
"True, it isn't," he teased, and she laughed lightly despite her tears. Then his face turned serious. "You are stronger than you think, moon of my life. You will be more than a true Khaleesi. And three strong children shall you bear."
Daenerys trembled. "The witch's curse. 'Until my womb quickens and I bear another living child, then you shall return to me, but not before,'" she repeated the maegi's words, and they sounded poisonous coming out of her mouth. "I am barren, Drogo. I can never have children again,"
Drogo's head hung low with a melancholic look, which made Dany's heart clench with guilt. "That may be true," he whispered sadly. His hands softened, then held her face more firmly, and he looked into the beautiful violet eyes he loved so much with fierce determination. "Don't let it beat you down. As I told you, you're stronger than you think. The world is made unfair, which is why people like you should make it fair. Show them that you are who you claim you are. True, you may not be the mother of your own child again, but you will be..."
Suddenly, an audible crack could be heard in the air despite the roaring of the flames. Daenerys' eyes shot upwards to the pyre. Her three petrified dragon eggs glowed hot like burning coal. She gasped when she saw a large crevice that ran from top to bottom of her black and scarlet dragon egg, as though something was forcing it open from the inside. The narrow slit became wider, and claws burst out of the shell which gripped the shells in tight grasp, trying to pry the shell apart. Dany was flabbergasted.
"... the Mother of Dragons," he finished.
Dany stared at the eggs in amazement as the black beast within tore the shell apart. Then Drogo stood and turned his back upon her. Dany instantly panicked.
"Drogo!" she called out.
"Remember my words, Daenerys," Drogo said, mounting his red stallion. "Remember who you are,"
"Please! Don't leave yet!"
He smiled sadly. "The Great Stallion calls. In the end, all men must die. But for now, you must live. I will always watch you from above. One day I will see you again in the Night Lands. Whether it be in ten, twenty or a hundred years, I will wait for you. And even if we don't, I promise you we will meet in another life. I promise you. I love you, Daenerys. No matter what happens, you will always be the Moon of my life,"
Two dragons were already crawling out of their shells and the third egg was cracking, but Dany could not bring herself to care. Her legs were too weak to stand, so she could only watch her sun-and-stars crack his whip and his red stallion rearing on its hind legs while she cried and cried and cried.
"And you will always be my sun-and-stars," she whispered. She thought he couldn't hear her, but then he looked back at her and smiled. He cracked his whip again and he was gone.
The newly hatched dragons screeched, and Daenerys watched as the pyre continued to burn.
They found her in the morning in the middle of the blackened ground, covered in soot and ashed. She was naked, but not a single burn wound marked her pale skin. Everyone around her was stupefied.
Daenerys looked up to Ser Jorah, and he saw two dragons, one green and one white, clutched in her arms. A black one with smoke billowing from its tiny nostrils perched on her shoulder, its tail curled around her neck. All three hatchlings screeched, their loud screams piercing the stunning silence.
"Blood of my blood," Jorah muttered reverently and knelt immediately. The khalasar followed.
Daenerys stood in all her naked glory. Her black dragon, which she already named Drogon for its fierceness and wild strength despite being so small, unfurled its wings and let out an ear-piercing scream. The other two in her arms followed. And suddenly, among the barren land of dead and the wasted, the air was alive once again with the music of dragons.
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