So here's a third vignette, set post ADWD. THank you for reading and reviewing!
As usual, a special thanks to my enthusiastic beta, the wonderful MrsTater!
MAEGI
Outside the Dosh Khaleen's round temple, the sudden screams of panic and clamors of desperate escape revealed that Drogon had made the decision for her, once more, just like in Meereen, in the most dreadful and terrible way.
One instant, Daenerys was arguing vehemently with the honorable widows to justify her unforgivable transgression. How could the Mother of Dragons have returned sheepishly to Vaes Dothrak? Daenerys Stormborn was not any Khaleesi. How could have she followed the ones who had abandoned her Sun and Stars the moment he had shown a moment of weakness? She had had no other solution than to press on in the Red Waste and follow her own destiny.
A few seconds later, the smell of fire and smoke preceded fearful shrieks.
The eldest Dosh Khaleen who railed vehemently against the unfaithful and disrespectful khaleesi a few seconds earlier, spluttering in Daenerys' face from her toothless mouth, had been stunned into silence and was no more mobile than one of the statues of foreign gods the Dothraki took to their sacred city. The other Dosh Khaleen had gathered in the same place, in the smallest recess of the temple, as if this shelter of wood, dried mud and straw would be enough against a dragon's fire.
"Maegi!" Khal Jhaqo exclaimed, reaching instinctively to the arakh that was not there. For once, Daenerys was grateful for the Dothraki's stubborn and somewhat crippling respect of tradition. "Maegi!" he repeated as he walked in her direction, intent of strangling her, or worse. His panicked eyes expressed nothing but pure hatred.
Then they expressed nothing at all, and the once proud Khal Jhaqo, her Sun and Stars' former Ko, was on his knees, screaming in pain, protecting what was left of his eyes from the hawk's attack. Daenerys did not know how, but her dear beggar had managed to slip into the temple, maybe by the gap in the roof that served the purpose of a chimney. Maybe the panicked bird had thought that the building would be a convenient shelter against the raging fire outside? It made no sense at all. The hawk, any animal, should be fleeing far from the city, not locking itself in the Dosh Khaleen's temple.
It made no matter. Daenerys took advantage of the distraction and ran outside to discover the hell Drogon had unleashed on Vaes Dothrak.
Had the dark beast felt her growing anger, just like in Meereen?
Were his actions the expression of her frustrations?
Was she the one who had unconsciously caused such chaos?
Daenerys scanned her surroundings frantically, searching for anything, a spear, a whip, a stick. Alas, there were no weapons in Vaes Dothrak; that was the rule. She ran to a still smoking cadaver to remove the belt, and to another one. A makeshift whip would have to do to force the beast to accept her authority once more. What had worked in Meereen should function in Vaes Dothrak, shouldn't it?
Drogon had landed at last, looking for another victim on which to unleash his wrath.
"Drogon!" she called and whipped his muzzle to attract his attention.
Just like in Meereen, the smoking jaws and angry eyes turned to her, ready to engulf her in fire and smoke.
"Drogon!"
Daenerys raised her frail arm to hit once more when the beggar paused on her shoulder.
Not the whip, never the whip. Just look at the beast in the eyes and never break contact. Never. Until it bows to your will.
She kept her arm raised, ready to strike, but hesitating nonetheless. Should she ignore the voice or follow its advice? Was she afflicted with the taint, like her father and her brother?
She stroke and Drogon roared in anger, spitting smoke.
The hawk on her shoulder shrieked but stood its ground.
The will, not the whip! Try to remember! What Viserys taught you about dragons?
Nothing, my brother taught me nothing but fear. How could he have done so? He never saw a dragon, and she gave birth to three of them!
But he was raised in King's Landing among your kin.
This was madness. This was nonsense.
Half of her makeshift weapon had been burnt by the mere contact with the dragon's head, and Daenerys had to step closer to the beast, only to discover his attentive, almost curious eyes, fixed on her small figure.
It was almost as if the dragon questioned the bond she had always thought evident, natural. Why should I obey you? Who are you to command me?
"Because I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, your master," she answered automatically, remembering the ridiculous playlet Viserys had forced her to learn by heart since she had been old enough to memorize anything. Viserys was the dragon and she was the tamer. He mimicked a deep, grave voice, repeating and repeating the same line. "Why should I obey you? Who are you to command me?" And she had to utter a different answer to each similar question. These moments had always seemed so unfair to her, and she had decided early that she was only a foil in her brother's fantasy of power. Was it possible she had been wrong? Had her mad brother actually taught her something valuable?
"Because from this moment, I am yours and you are mine," she went on, and progressed a few steps more in Drogon's direction.
"Because from this moment, we will be dragon and rider. We shall fly high in the sky and unleash hell on our enemies." A step closer.
"There will be no limit to our freedom but our eternal pact." Another one.
"And, when death claims me, my body will be yours to feast on." A last one.
"This is the moment to conclude our pact, Drogon."
Red eyes met purple eyes.
The hawk flew away.
And the clash of wills began.