Book II – Chapter 7: Dracarys

Fire Made Flesh

Rhaenys stood atop a jagged cliffside in a dress of red silk, hands shaking as the morning sun haloed around her from behind. This… this was insane. How had she agreed to do this? Why had she agreed to do this?

"Cold feet?" Daenerys asked, stepping up beside her and taking her hand. Dany's hand was shaking too, weight rocking from foot to foot.

"Little bit," Rhaenys admitted, staring down at the valley below. The Dothraki encampment was mostly packed up now, riders assembling at the head of the column, ready to depart. From this high up, they looked like ants scurrying about without a care, no knowledge of the fire to come.

"Are you sure this is the right thing to do?" she asked softly, heart sunk deep down into her stomach, cold sweat gathered at the back of her neck.

"No," Daenerys whispered in response, not easing Rhaenys nerves at all. "But it's the best idea I have. I lived with the Dothraki for years. I know how they think, how they'll act. And I know Jhaqo. He was blood rider to my husband. He isn't here to bring me back to the Dosh Khaleen or kill the dragons or whatever he claims. He wants to fuck me and prove to his fragile ego that he's better than Drogo was. Then, he'll kill me and feed my corpse to his horses."

A thick slick of bile rose up Rhaenys throat, her head spinning in revulsion. But she swallowed it back down. Barely. Daenerys voice was light as the autumn wind and hollow as Uncle Oberyn's whenever he spoke of Rhaenys' mother.

"You really loved him," Rhaenys said, squeezing Dany's hand.

"He was my sun and stars, right until the end. But without his death, my dragons would never have been born. Every time I think about him… and about my baby boy… I just… they're standing there, judging me, hating me. Because no matter how hard I try, I can't bring myself to wish them back. If they stand here, my children don't. Everything I've done, the things I've achieved… all of it vanishes."

She fell silent, sobbing quietly under breath, and Rhaenys just stood beside her. Offering what support she could. Rhaenys understood that Daenerys couldn't show vulnerability often, or, really, at all. She had no one in her life she could trust enough to see beneath the masks she wore every moment.

But Rhaenys was family. If you can't cry in front of family, then what good was having one?

After only a few weeks, Rhaenys considered Daenerys as good a sister as any of the Sand-Snakes. She certainly needed family around her more than the Snakes did. Someone with no motivations, no schemes, and no fears. Just a friend she could trust implicitly.

They stood there for a long while as Daenerys cried softly, until the horde below finally began to move. The scouts rode forth and before long returned, bringing word of the encampment by the river. Several more anxious minutes passed, then a wave of riders broke free from the centre of the khalasar, forming into a rough line and proceeding around the canyon bend, the rest of the horde following slower behind.

"Option one. Jhaqo always was a coward," Daenerys muttered. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, counting under her breath to five.

A wave – of what Rhaenys wasn't sure, but it was certainly something – seemed to pass through Daenerys, then she opened her eyes and straightened her back. Standing tall and full of presence and power. Intimidating and incredible.

"The Dothraki understand only one thing. Strength. They follow the rider who has the most of it. Today, that's us."

She released Rhaenys hand and turned to the small camp on the clifftop behind them. A small firepit with a low canvas tent pitched behind, with just enough space for Daenerys and Rhaenys to sleep the night before. Lying on the ground behind the tent were the three dragons. All of them easily the size of two buildings, with a wingspan greater than a wagon train. Talons razor-sharp, capable of rending metal in half or gouging stone with a single swipe. Scales – black, gold or green – hard as steel and glimmering under the morning light. Their bodies radiated heat, yet Rhaenys had never once felt ill at ease under the pressure. Instead, the sensation mesmerised her in a way she just didn't understand, warmth seeking into her very pores.

Daenerys stepped up to the three creatures, and they each came awake, stretching their limbs and grumbling low in their throats. Drogon nudged Daenerys with his snout, and she ran a hand over his scales. Viserion reached her neck towards Rhaenys, big golden eyes staring down at her. She thought, maybe, that she could feel a sense of apprehension rolling off the dragon, but that was just fancy, wasn't it?

Either way, the beasts clearly understood something was about to happen, as they all looked towards their mother, tails slithering behind them, feet crunching on the hard hewn clay and stone.

"Today, we make history, Rhae," Daenerys said. Gone was the insecurity; gone was the fear. Now, there was just hard iron will. And that expression… Rhaenys had seen it before. On Jae, the day he first killed. The day he'd saved Margaery and Rhaenys' lives.

"Today, we ride together. Today, House Targaryen returns to the world for real."

If Rhaenys was going to fly, she needed that same feeling. That same will. That same look.

She was Elia Martell's daughter. A Princess of the Seven Kingdoms. A woman of Dorne. Named for a warrior queen of old. Sister of the true King. Kingsguard.

Now, she would be the first dragonlord since her family fell into ruin.

"Is that really what I look like?"

Daenerys words speared through Rhaenys subconscious, bringing her attention around. The dragons were looking at her, Daenerys smirking at Drogon's side.

"Because if it is, I understand why everyone tells me I look kind of scary."

Rhaenys shot her aunt a tiny smirk of her own. Viserion lowered her neck, and taking a deep breath, Rhae climbed up the warm scales and took a seat behind her horns.

"Um, did the old dragon riders have saddles?" Rhaenys asked. Daenerys braced her legs, then vaulted onto Drogon's back. He reared upright, flaring his wings and shrieking, and Dany clutched to the dragon's scales in desperation. She started calling in High Valyrian, and Drogon backed down, pressing his wings to the earth then roaring out in what might have been glee. Viserion launched forward, and Rhaenys screamed, gripping the horns. She joined Drogon's cries, scales under Rhaenys legs superheating in a flash. But they didn't burn. If anything, it felt… soothing. As if some tether had just slipped into place between them. Rhaenys relaxed, and then Viserion was moving. Running to the cliff edge, then soaring out into the sky. The rush of wind blew Rhaenys' hair and silks out behind her, but she didn't lose her seat. In fact, she didn't think she could fall now if she tried.

"I don't think they needed them!" Daenerys shouted, and Rhaenys looked to her side. Daenerys was flying just ahead of her, Rhaegal gliding through the clouds on her right. Jae should be there. It felt wrong that he was missing.

No. No, the Dragonlords hadn't needed saddles. This was as natural as breathing.

"Down there!"

Rhaenys followed Daenerys pointed hand to where the Dothraki blood-riders were closing in on the encampment. As Daenerys and Tyrion had planned, the palisade was full of people, Unsullied keeping anyone who might attempt to flee in place.

"Time to show everyone who we are," Daenerys declared, then dove down towards the ground. Rhaenys pushed down slightly on Viserion's horns, and she responded with a sharp trill into the sky, plunging down.

The Dothraki riders finally realised their impending doom, glancing towards the sky and crying out in terror, bows coming to draw.

Not a single arrow loosed from its string. Drogon's enormous maw opened wide, throat burning to red, and Daenerys shouted into the wind.

"Dracarys!"

Tongues of red-hot flame leapt from the dragon's jaws, swallowing the riders in a single burning inferno. Shrieks of agony filled the valley, the scent of death and ash and melting bone permeating the air. And Rhaenys could think of nothing but the power thrumming beneath her.

Viserion flared her wings, rearing up above the Dothraki as men and horses scattered in all directions, trying to escape the inferno. Streams of hot flame spewed out across the grass, obliterating all before them and setting riders and mounts afire. The terror of men did nothing for Rhaenys, but the dying horses were enough to shake her, and she tried pushing the horrid sound away.

Rhaenys pulled up, heart thundering in her throat, Viserion's heat radiating up through her thighs, and glanced towards the Dothraki host. The greater horde had stopped at the mouth of the canyon, witnesses to the power of dragons; fire made flesh.

The greatest weapons in the world.

Khalessi of the Great Grass Sea

Daenerys slid from Drogon's back, bare feet sinking into scorched earth, hair flapping in the wind stirred by the dragon's passing.

She was making a rather admirable effort not to vomit right now. Ash was everywhere, a burning haze hovering all over the valley, trapped by the canyon walls. The heat rivalled the heart of the Red Waste, yet the sun was only just topping the cliffs. Arrayed before her, stunned into total silence, was a khalasar some twenty-thousand strong. Only half the size of Drogo's, but still a decent force by any means. More than enough to attack the city. It wouldn't come to that now. She'd won. With Fire and Blood.

Why had it not been as thrilling or rewarding as she'd thought it would be?

Maybe it was the fumes getting into her mind.

War is war, Daenerys. You did the right thing.

She didn't doubt that. Her people were protected, she'd given the Meereenese her message, and with any luck, the next few moments would see her finally earn what her brother had thought him owed years before.

But if she glanced around her right now, took her eyes off the riders ahead, she would see the smouldering corpses of people and horses she'd incinerated.

And then she'd probably be sick.

"Jhaqo! Traitor to your Khal! Show your face to me!" Daenerys called in thick accented and perfect Dothraki.

The khalasar, still silent as a desolate tomb, parted just enough for a single rider to pass through. Jhaqo looked the same as when he left with half of Drogo's riders, though his braid was slightly longer. Well, she'd do something about that.

"In the dirt, Jhaqo."

Drogo's old ko sneered down at her, face splitting with barely restrained fury.

"You dare order me bitch?! I'll…" He never finished his sentence. Two riders moved up behind Jhaqo, arms reaching out fast as snakes. One grabbed Jhaqo by the throat, the other yanked his braid. A knife was drawn, hair was cut, and the khal's braid was thrown in the dirt at Daenerys' feet. Then, the first rider shoved Jhaqo from his horse before he could respond, and his face met the earth, air fleeing his lungs.

That was all the help she'd get. The rest of the riders just stared. A host of sweaty, hulking men astride mounts that could pound her into the dirt in mere moments. Now, they waited to see what she would do.

So, Daenerys reached down and grabbed Jhaqo by the throat, lifting him up to eye level. Her arm strained at his enormous weight, and he tried to thrash in her grip, but Drogon roared behind her, and he fell limp, eyes locked over her shoulder.

"Do you have anything to say?"

"You think a woman can lead the Dothraki? We will rape you and take your beasts and destroy your city and your people and drag you back to Vaes Dothrak so the Mother of Mountains can watch as we…."

Daenerys drew a knife from a sheath belted to the back of her Dothraki leathers and sliced his throat. Blood spattered out across her arm and her clothes, but his voice cut off, which was all she cared for.

"That was for Drogo."

She dropped Jhaqo's body to the dirt, wiped the knife against her grass skirt and returned it to the sheath. Then, she grabbed the reigns of the khal's horse, swung herself up into his saddle, and turned to look the horde in the eye.

"Dothraki of the Great Grass Sea!" Daenerys shouted, the canyon walls bouncing her voice so all could hear. "I am Daenerys Stormborn, Khaleesi to Khal Drogo, and I have claimed the skies as my own. My mount is the fire and fury of the sun; my blood the dirt of the Mother of Mountains herself. Some of you witnessed me in the Temple of Vaes Dothrak. Some saw me step into the pyre as my husband burned. Now, I ride for glory. I will cross the Great Salt Sea as no Khal has before and claim the dirt beyond with fire from above. Doom is mine to bring, prophecy mine to fulfil."

"So, tell me, who amongst the riders of the Dothraki, the most feared fighting force in the world, has the courage to follow the Dragonlords into glory once again, as you did in the days of old?"

That was technically a lie. The Dothraki had never served the Dragonlords, coming to Essos during the power vacuum following Valyria's end, but Tyrion had argued that creating a connection towards Daenerys' strength and the Dothraki's own could tip the scales. Daenerys had agreed.

The two riders who'd knocked Jhaqo from his horse dismounted, drew their arakhs, and lay them in the grass.

"Vizhadi Sajak," they whispered. And then the riders on either side were following suit, muttering the name in reverence as they lay their weapons at her feet.

Vizhadi Sajak.

Silver Rider.

Once, long ago, Drogo had gifted her a silver, the most magnificent mare that Dany had ever seen. She rode that horse still. The one real thing she had left of him.

Perhaps it was fitting that she'd bear a name in silent connection to him all these years later, even if it was just coincidence. Maybe she could even see him smiling over her shoulder. Proud of her power and proud of the fear she left behind.

"Send out riders! Call every khalasar who wishes to test their strength and skill as no Khal has asked his riders in centuries. Tell them the Dothraki horde gathers on the banks of the Skahazadhan, prepared to go to war under the banner of the dragon!"

The silence of the canyon finally shattered as the Dothraki took to the cry of war, pounding steel on shields and shouting to the world.

And Drogon and Rhaegal and Viserion rose up on their haunches and spewed fire into the air, their roars like thunder heralding the storm.

Ashes to Ashes

Arianne stood atop the palisade, surrounded by her cousins, her uncle, and the Unsullied, staring out at the wall of flames, heart in her throat. They could still see the three dragons standing within the haze, but Daenerys and Rhaenys had disappeared a short time ago. They'd yet to emerge.

"What's taking so long?" Arianne asked no one in particular, shifting from foot to foot.

No one answered. Instead, to try and distract herself from the scent of burning corpses thick in the air, Arianne glanced along the palisade wall. Two of the five Meereenese nobles who'd fainted as the dragons rained fire had reawakened and were now furiously fanning themselves while the Freemen glared at them in disgust. Arianne couldn't help but agree. Tyrion and Varys, standing between the Dornish party and Daenerys' court, were whispering silently between each other. No doubt concocting some clever plot. Arianne wished they'd speak a little louder so she could overhear.

Areo had a hand on Arianne's shoulder, as he had since the Dothraki had first appeared. She didn't know what he thought he'd do if the Unsullied turned on them or the Dothraki reached the palisade. He was a capable warrior for sure, and she trusted him with her life – high praise – but he couldn't do much against an army. Then again, Obara and Nymeria were flanking Uncle Oberyn as tightly as they could, hands-on weapons, so maybe it had less to do with practicality and more to do with anxiety and a little bit of fear born from what they'd just witnessed.

Arianne just wished she could catch a glimpse of the silver-haired goddess. Oh, and Rhaenys too, she supposed. Flying a fucking DRAGON! Now that was something incredible. Arianne had always known Rhae had it in her.

"There!" Someone yelled, pointing towards the far left of the still-burning corridor of fire. A column of people emerged from the smoke.

"And on the other side too!" Another column, but Arianne could just make out two figures riding ahead of the others this time. One with the dark complexion of Dorne; the other, pale and crowned with silver hair.

The three dragons pushed through the smoke wall, setting their eyes on the very wooden and highly flammable fortification. Just waiting. And, gods, but staring at those things was a terror all in its own. Before today, she'd known in theory what the dragons could and would do. But she hadn't understood. No one really had.

Now, they all did.

Daenerys came to a stop outside the palisade, looking up at those gathered before her, a commanding smile on her face, eyes alight with something Arianne couldn't quite fathom. But whatever it was, it set her pulse dancing, heartbeat rising into her ears. Rhaenys sat beside her, smiling more in relief than anything else. And behind, the Dothraki began to flood around the killing field, filling up the valley.

"This is my wrath, my lords and ladies – the wrath of the Children of House Targaryen and the power of the Dragonlords. I will see a new world built. Stand in my way and face the consequences. This is my final warning to you."

Daenerys gestured to the army gathering behind her.

"The horse lords of the Dothraki fight for me now, and more will come to answer my call. It is time I return to my home and help restore my family's dynasty once and for all. There are people waiting for me, people who need me, and I won't abandon them. But neither will I leave Meereen, Yunkai, or the other cities of the Bay of Dragons."

The Bay of Dragons? Did she mean Slaver's Bay? Oh. Ohhh. Oh, that was clever.

"Slavery will never return, and those of you reporting to the Slave Masters of Volantis can tell them this: I have not forgotten, and I do not forgive. If they have not put an end to the abomination of slavery before I arrive on their doorstep, my ever-growing host will do it for them."

Then, Daenerys turned her horse and started trotting around the palisade walls, Rhaenys and the Dothraki following behind.

Authors Notes: Book II is FINISHED, everybody! Wrote the last chapter today, and just have to do edits now. Happy dance, happy dance, happy dance 💃 😆!

Anywho, I'm going to go make some toast, you guys want any?