Hey babes just coming by to see how your doing? Hope everything is alright and hope to see you when your ready ❤️❤️
Hello lovey,
Doing fine,
I’m so sorry for leaving y’all in the dust but I’ve had to step away from writing to give my full attention to uni, a priority that I put above everything else (even sleep lol)
Before y’all get excited, no, I’m not working on the final chapter of act I unless I miraculously manage to finish all my exam period prep in a day.
Please understand this decision, and I hope to continue by fire, sea and blood again soon✨💞
Hey Beautiful I hope Ur doing okay and everything is alright 🥰 just wanted to say I love your writing and it inspired me to start my own although it’s full of mistakes 😂 but I miss your writings and hope you come back when your ready 😊❤️
AWWW I CANT WAIT TO SEE WHAT U WRITE- bruh u literally sent this while I was blankly staring at the doc for the new chapter scratching my head thinking of what to do-
The reason why it’s jus been crickets for a damn while is because I’m a bit stumped and my motivation for writing this has sorta sadly been plummeting.
But those new crumbs of Ewan on set for the next season have FUELED ME-
Coming back with a new lens and HOPEFULLY I’ll have this chapter done soon- but I’ll make no promises for when exactly cause y’all know how I am by now lmao-
I want to see feral Aemond. Aemond who gets his first taste of bloodshed and war and is immediately addicted to it. Perched up on Vhagar watching over his army as they slaughter their enemies and smiling. I want to see his eye light up with the thrill of killing. Feeling the bloodthirst he wasn't even aware of having.
I want to see war corrupt him. See him try to be a dutiful son, try to prove himself as a better option than Aegon only to be seduced by his family's centuries long vice - fire and blood.
Breathe in the smell of smoke and destruction and revel in it. Slowly lose himself and what's important to the excitement of being so formidable.
Want him to start his journey focused on what needs to be done for his family's survival only to completely forgo them when they need him the most because he can't resist the pull of death.
Struggle with killing because he was raised by Alicent “Reluctance to murder is not a weakness” Hightower just to turn his back on her when she needs him the most because something inside of him won't let him leave the battlefield.
Want his conscience to eat away at him for even thinking of choosing the destruction of Riverlands over his family and still being unable to choose going back to KL. Fighting with himself to choose the right thing and failing to do so.
Let murder become his drug. His addiction that is making him forget who he is. That is reshaping him into a monster his own mother could no longer love and recognize.
Let him become a true Targaryen who burns the world down just to feel the high of it. Just to feel powerful. To warm a hidden monstrous part of himself that's been revealed. Let it get to his head and cloud his judgement to the point where he wouldn't choose anything over the satisfaction of taking a life he finds less worthy than his own.
Summary: Alone and afraid Daenerys is forced to indulge the company of her own dreary thoughts and doubts, until she is granted a presence of something far more preferable.
A/n: I think this is the point where I want to say that English is my second language, so please. spare me. Like, I have the vision for how i want all this to go but very often I don't have the right words to describe that vision, (I have not fully edited this btw) don't think this is my best work, but I still hope yall enjoy💕
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Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Daenerys Velaryon (Strong! Oc)
Rhaenyra stood upon a cliff as her grey eyes stared down and across the blue narrow sea. Memories of her daughter returning to her in pulses with each crash of tide against the shore.
For years, Daenerys had longed to cross the narrow sea, patiently awaiting the day that she could see the world it had kept a safe distance away. Never bothered by the stories that should have inspired horror to sprout within her.
Her hand holding a red embroidered black pouch tightly to her chest, what was left of Daenerys’s ashes stowed within it. She hated how the thick layer of cloth she wore kept it away.
Sniffling, she brushed her free hand upon her sons’ heads.
The sobbing Lucerys was first to look up at her, while Jacaerys kept blankly staring at the ground that seemed to blur beneath his intense gaze.
“It’s time boys,” she said, not hiding her tears from them, doing all she could to ignore the empty spot beside them, where Daenerys should have been.
She knelt down to the ground, glancing at the sky, sighing as she felt the strong wind that pushed across the sea.
With shaking hands she opened the pouch, shuddering as she saw the ash inside ‘how can this be all of her,’ she thought to herself.
Luke looked to his brother, hoping that he would go first, but Jace had his hands tightly balled at his sides, not finding the will to look inside.
Luke whimpered as he saw his expressionless brother pay him no mind, reluctantly reaching inside and grasping a handful of ash.
Rhaenyra hummed, her gentle smile shaking open her lips. She then looked at Jace, frowning solemnly as she saw his stony face.
Her hand reached up and rested on his cheek, brushing away the drops of rain, knowing that they had hid his tears.
“Jace…” she muttered, calling out to pull him out of whatever depths he had sunk to.
Jacaerys sunken eyes looked to his mother, they spoke no words to one another, but his mothers eyes told him one thing, she needed him to be strong, she needed him to be at her side, she needed him to be ready.
He pursed his lips, shaking his head before reaching his hand inside.
Rhaenyra sighed, relieved, she wished this to be over with as swiftly as possible.
Reaching inside her hands flinched as she felt the texture of the ash against her hands. The urge to scream burning at the back of her throat.
With a steely face she looked out across the sea, her trembling hand outstretched in front of her.
Jace and Luke followed her movements, their nails digging into their palms, not an ounce of them had any intention of letting go.
“Kostagon se jelmio se embar carry ao naejot tolvie mōris hen bisa vys, nykeā mōrī jaelagon… mirre," May the wind and sea carry you to every corner of this world, a final wish… fulfilled.
With those words, their palms came open and her ashes were scattered out, carried by the wind across the sky and mixing forever with the tides, forever one.
Two months ago…
Daenerys’s tired eyes peeled open, greeting a dark and star scattered sky. Floating upon a warm, formless surface. She was still as she floated upon the waves, confused but at ease. It was a rare moment of thoughtlessness, naught to worry about, naught to fear. As though she had indulged the strongest wine that left her mind in a haze.
She was confused by it all but she would not argue, it was a feeling she had longed for after all..
The calm that so comfortably sat on her face was shoved away as her eyes went wide open, gasping as she wondered to herself how long it had been, had she been found? Was she gone and dead?
This sudden disturbance caused her legs to move slightly from where they should have been, pulling her beneath the surface. As she swam upright she pulled herself up again, breaking the surface and fighting to stay above it.
Her heart had begun to beat in her stomach, forcing bile to rise to her throat as she saw what she had been floating in only moments ago. She was surrounded by an endless ocean of thick warm blood. She cried out in fear as she was tugged down from the surface into its dark depths, gagging as she felt the substance fill her lungs.
A sharp tugging at her shoulder drew her out of this terrible slumber. Lifting her head her bloodshot eyes met those of a familiar little dragon, teeth pulling and tugging at the cloth of her shoulder, soft growls slipping between her teeth.
Daenerys groaned as she shook her head, an action she would soon regret as she grasped her head in her hands.
The action made the little dragon jump back in surprise.
Daenerys turned over onto her back, regretting the action as she bumped the back of her bruised head against the hard and cold ground.
Sitting up she gently rubbed at the tender flesh, hissing as it ached beneath her touch. Her vision was still a blur as she looked around herself, all she could make out was a teal blue glow illuminating the dark cave she was in.
A soft croak came from beside her, as she turned to look she was surprised to see the little dragon had not turned heel and left.
The little dragon tilted her head curiously at Daenerys.
Daenerys frowned, bewildered by the action. Looking away from her she turned her focus towards her legs, wincing as she felt the buzzing cold that nipped at them. Dragging herself away from the water she curled into herself, grasping at whatever warmth she had left.
The little dragon crooned as she saw Daenerys begin to shiver. Warily approaching her shaking form as she observed her. Her blue eyes seemed to soften with worry as she saw the discomfort on Daenerys’s face.
Before she could move any further, a loud, and shrill roar seemed to call out from deep within the cave.
The little dragon flinched at the sound, seemingly not expecting it to have come so soon.
Daenerys gasped as she recoiled into the stone wall behind her, frightened by the sound.
The little dragon looked towards her, blinking in contemplation before moving away and spreading her wings.
Daenerys’s eyes widened as she realised what she was doing, scrambling forward as she reached out “wait!”
The little dragon had already taken across the water, disappearing into the darker parts of the cave. She shrieked as she left an answer to the roar that had echoed before.
Daenerys’s eyes began to water, stung by the darkness that met them. Slowly retreating back towards the wall, rubbing her palms anxiously against the wet skirt of her torn dress, glancing about herself as she tried to find some means of an escape.
But there was nothing, only an expanse of glowing water, but as the hours passed the water's glow seemed to dim.
The silence was haunting within the eerie darkness.
The coldness of solitude stung her still damp skin.
Her legs were drawn to her chest, her face in her knees as she trembled and shuddered, the cold had almost grown to be nauseating.
But soon a warm flush of shame burnt her cheeks, for whatever matter had sent her wandering off seemed so trivial now, seeing what had come of it.
She should have listened to her mother, she should have wallowed in her chambers.
Instead she had wandered off, blindly, stubbornly thinking she knew what she was doing, though she knew nothing.
A shiver rolled up her spine as she recalled the taste of rust on her tongue, wanting to retch the taste out from her memory.
The sight kept flashing within the darkness of the cave, the way blood seemed to gush forth from the boy's neck, the way the blank haze of death glazed over his young eyes.
She shook her head, denying it again, it could not have been her doing, she would never do such a thing. Striking her head purposefully against the wall behind her, hoping that the pulsing ache would set that thought aside.
Her teary eyes stared out ahead of herself as she pleaded for herself to forget but she continued to tread on the memory of what had happened only hours ago.
Her hand slipped to her side, where her fathers dagger should have been, seeking its comfort.
But in its place was nothing.
Her gaze snapped down, alarmed by the absence of the knife, all that remained of it was its loose sheath.
“No, no, no, no, NO!” she muttered, tearing off the cloth from around her waist, hoping that the dagger would clatter to the ground as she shook the cloth in the air.
Dropping the cloth, she ran her hands through her hair, raking her mind for an answer as to when she had last had it in her grasp.
With such clarity she recalled it. She recalled how easily the sharp blade in her grasp had moved across Baldwin's neck, how much force she had needed to drive it into Ellis's shoulder and how difficult it was to try and pull it back out.
Her lips trembled as her eyes darted about in horror of what she had done as though their bodies were splayed out in front of her “Oh gods…” grimacing in disgust of the slimy feeling of guilt, of sin that moved across her skin.
She felt herself shrink as she imagined, somewhere within the dark cave, Baldwin and Ellis were standing, blood dried against their pale skin and clothes, eyes though blank were filled with loathing.
She began to heave and cry, hands shaking in front of her, refusing to touch her skin.
Nothing offered her comfort, not even herself, for she knew she deserved no sympathy.
“What have I done… gods what did I do…” she sobbed.
Her hands rested limp at her sides as she laid against the wall like a discarded doll. Red eyes staring blankly across the water that glowed brightly once more. Despair ageing her young face, and disgust still tugging at her upper lip.
Her skin felt revolting to her, it was as though mud and dung had dried upon it, but even that seemed less repulsive than the blood that still felt warm on her hands.
The first time every little girl would encounter blood was on their first flowering, the red staining the sheets of their bed, leaving them to cry into their mothers skirts in fear.
Daenerys had yet to bloom, and she had already encountered blood in the worst places. She encountered it on the young faces of her brothers and cousins, she had encountered it upon the face of her once beloved friend, she had encountered it during the assault on her dear father at the carnival at Spice Town. She had seen it in every place it should have never been and she was only one and ten.
Her mind was slowly slipping away, doing all it could to detach itself from the vileness its body had committed, denying the part it had played.
Wind cut through the water as the little dragon flew across it, back towards Daenerys, who was too lost in her own despair to notice the little thing.
In her claws, a handful of twigs and charred bones. Crooning as she neared Daenerys, landing a few steps away from her.
Her curious eyes observed the slumped Daenerys, confused by her lack of acknowledgement towards her.
The little dragon crept towards Daenerys, keeping a close eye on her, for fear of any sudden movement the girl could make, but she was worryingly still.
She dropped the twigs closely beside Daenerys before leaping back away, fearing that she had been waiting for her to get close enough to grasp. But Daenerys remained still.
The little dragon squeaked, tilting her head, bewildered by Daenerys’s behaviour or the lack thereof.
Shaking her head she glanced down to the small pile of twigs and bones, rolling her jaw. Wheezing out gasps of squeaky breaths as she looked down at the pile. Shaking her head as she dragged her wing over it, the little thing was frustrated.
She continued squeaking out breaths, small sparks coming from her gullet, barely strong enough to light even one tiny twig.
A loud squawk came from where the little dragon had flown from. The sound annoying the little thing as she continued to try and force out a puff of flame.
From across the water, another little dragon, so slightly bigger than the first, came flying towards where the two were. Stark yellow eyes widening with fear as he saw where the red dragon stood, with a warning roar he flew swiftly across the water skidding across the stone as he landed.
The red dragon, seeing the flames that glowed at the back of the green dragons throat, was quick to assure him that the girl was no threat.
He had not listened, continuing to roar for the girl to get away, to where he did not care.
The red dragon leapt forward, keeping Daenerys behind her as she feebly shielded her.
He was confused by her actions, she knew the danger men were, especially now for how small they were.
The green dragon crooned, gesturing for her to get away from Daenerys and return home, urgently.
She refused, instead returning to her task and attempting to set the twigs alight.
The green dragon glanced between the unmoving girl and the red dragon, wary of Daenerys. He would not have them spend a moment longer in her presence, moving forward and opening his mouth, a stream of flame poured from his mouth and ran up the wall beside Daenerys.
The heat that radiated from his flames stung Daenerys’s cold skin, pulling her from her blank daze. Heat had felt so foreign against her skin that had been cold for dangerously too long.
She gasped, scrambling away from the heat.
The action startled the two dragons, who squeaked in surprise before quickly flying away.
Daenerys stared at the two frowning, wondering when there had been two of them. Wisps of orange flame flickering up into the air caught her attention, its colour so stark against the blue of her surroundings.
Crawling over towards it, she groaned in relief as she felt the heat melt the cold that settled upon her skin. She sat hunched over the flame, fearing it would flicker away so soon.
Her tired eyes glanced up curiously to where the two dragons had gone. A flicker of gratitude warming her from within.
Looking back down to the small flames she frowned.
She had not deserved this warmth when a boy and girl were laying cold in their graves, to never feel their mothers and fathers warmth ever again.
Her nails dug into her palms, her lips twisted into a scowl as she recalled her vile crime.
Arising from the ground she moved to stand over the water, and began kicking it towards the flame, putting the fire out.
Dull growls sounded throughout the dark cave, but the sound belonged to no dragon.
Daenerys beat her fist against her stomach, fighting the wince that tugged on her lips “quiet,” she commanded, dismissing her stomach's pleas.
She soon realised the days that had passed with her in that cave. The beaming light of the sun disappearing from the water informed her that night had fallen once again.
With a sharp bone from the long put out fire, she carved into the wall she had curled up against a line, marking each day that would pass.
So far it has been two.
She had expected herself to have been driven to madness already, to have been alone in the dark so long, but she found that wallowing in her own self loathing was fairly distracting.
She would spend the hours scolding and punishing herself. Sitting in the water until she could feel the cold gnaw at her skin again, sitting on her legs until they would go numb, and digging her chipped nails into the lobe of her ear until it would bleed.
There was another thing that kept her from falling to madness, the short visits the two dragons would pay her.
Sometimes it was one of them, curiously staring at her from afar. Sometimes it was two, the green dragon only ever came to urge the other to come back.
It was difficult to ignore them, the sullen Daenerys was still a child, just as curious of them as they were of her.
Whenever they would visit she would look at them from the corner of her eye, bewildered by their interest in her.
The red dragon narrowed her eyes the first time she saw the put out flames, moving to set it alight again. Flying down from the perch she sat on with the green dragon, who squaked warningly.
The she-dragon landed by where the water had met the stone, frowning as she saw the wet wood. Looking at Daenerys with dismay as she drew closer.
The little dragon squealed as she was tugged back by her tail, the green dragon trying to drag her away forcefully.
Daenerys frowned at the action, tsking as she leaned towards them, scolding the green dragon “Keligon bona, zaldritsos!” stop that, little dragon!
The green dragon jumped back in surprise, while the red dragon scurried forward, curling against Daenerys's hip, squeaking out a roar at the green dragon.
He huffed through his snout before calling out for her to return with him.
The little dragon refused, and instead pushed herself closer to Daenerys.
Daenerys was awestruck, the feeling of her warm scales and wip of a tale on her side sparked a childlike amazement within her. Her shaking hand cautiously hovering above the dragon, wanting to drag the back of her fingers gently against the little things back, a show of gentleness, of trust.
But just as swiftly as she had moved it, she recoiled her hand in disgust, not of the dragon, but herself. How could she touch something so innocent with her bloodstained hands? She would not taint the little thing with her sin.
The green dragon watched the action from afar, tilting his head as he watched her recoil her hand, wondering if it were out of fear, but it could not have possibly been, for she let the little dragon remain curled against her side rather than scramble away fearfully.
He was wary as he left looking over his wing as he turned his back to her before swiftly flying across the water, not followed by the she dragon.
The she dragon squirmed as she tried to settle beside the bewildered Daenerys, who had not realised how she had melted against the little dragon's warm skin.
Slowly she moved to rest her back against the wall, with her legs stretched ahead of her. A less awkward position so the dragon could lay comfortably.
The little dragon crooned happily as she nuzzled itself against her, resting her head on the ground as she tiredly stared ahead, unafraid of the girl she laid beside.
The little dragon had not left Danys side. As she drifted off to sleep for the night, Daenerys noticed how much the little dragon had moved in her sleep, eventually resting her head over Daenerys’s leg.
Daenerys had remained awake throughout the night, not plagued by thoughts of her abhorring actions. Instead she was occupied in preventing herself from stirring about and disturbing the little dragon's slumber.
Her eyes skimmed over the dragon's body, she was the size of a cat, a crown of ivory horns that had yet to grow adorned her head. The bumps trailing up the back of her neck, surrounded by a golden pattern that spread from her spine and reached down to her spaded tail. Her wings were a red that turned into a fleshy pink at the webbing, a small hole marring her left wing.
She was beautiful, a beauty that would never see the world.
Daenerys frowned in sorrow, the poor thing had not deserved to be trapped here, forever barred from seeing the light of day.
A soft roar echoed within the cave, awaking the little dragon and alarming Daenerys.
It was the green dragon and in his claws, a sheep's leg, its blood staining the water the dragon flew over.
The red dragon squealed in excitement, arising from beside Daenerys and waddling over towards where the wary green dragon had landed, eying Daenerys before turning his attention towards the unharmed red dragon.
Daenerys glanced from the two and towards the leg, it was torn and clawed off of something bigger, mayhaps the rest of the carcass wherever it may have been. Her eyes widened as she realised, they could not have found a sheep wandering within this desolate cave.
There was a way out.
They were not trapped here, and how relieved she was to know that.
The two dragons fought over the leg, battling over who would get the fleshiest bit of it.
The red dragon was too small so she only took a mouthful, whining as she saw the abundance that was left for the green dragon who may have been less than twice her size.
A smug gurgle rumbled from the green dragon's chest as he stared at his frustrated friend before returning to gorge upon the abundance that was accidentally left for him.
A small smile of amusement curled at Daenerys’s dry lips as she watched the two, squirming as she felt her stomach rumble, a plea for her to yet again ignore. Even though she had been salivating as she watched them gorge on the raw and still wooled meat.
She pulled her legs against her chest, hugging them tightly, so that they would suffocate the sound of her stomachs begging.
But the sound had not missed the sharp ears of the observant green dragon, who flinched, thinking it was another dragon that had omitted the rumbling sound.
He tilted his head as he watched Daenerys, bewildered by the sounds that she had continued to omit without opening her mouth.
Her eyes flitted up from the meat and met the dragon's bright hazel eyes. Her own eyes widening, for she swore she could have seen concern in his gaze.
She gave the dragon an assuring smile, “Ipradagon byka mēre,” eat little one, she told, nodding towards the slab of meat.
The green dragon looked between the meat at his feet, and the starved girl before him. He glanced towards the red dragon, who was again struggling to puff out a bit of flame. She was unharmed, not a scratch or wound on her small body aside from the hole in her wing. Daenerys was no threat, he supposed she deserved a reward for that.
He lowered his head down towards the leg, reluctant as he tore a big chunk of meat from the leg. Huffing as he stepped over the leg and cautiously made his way towards Daenerys.
As harmless as she may have seemed, if she were to make one sudden wrong move, he would not hesitate in bathing her in a wave of flame.
Daenerys frowned in confusion as she watched him approach her, eyes widening as she saw him drop a piece of meat a few steps away from her.
She had not made a move to take it, making the green dragon think her daft, so he nudged the meat towards her, gesturing for her to take it.
She knew she was to take it but she refused, she would continue this punishment till she withers and frails if need be. A mercy, she had thought, compared to the cruelty she had inflicted upon those children.
The dragon glanced down at the bloody meat in front of him, frustrated by her not taking it, but he soon realised he had never seen a human eat raw meat.
Huffing at her kind's pretentiousness, he heaved in a deep breath before bathing the meat in a quick burst of flame, before shaking his head and stepping back towards his meal.
Daenerys was shocked by the action, by this generosity. Her eyes followed the dragon as he retreated, seemingly shy beneath her gaze.
Her gaze fell towards the cooked piece of meat, by no means was it perfect, it was charred from the top and wreaked of dragon breath. But gods, did her stomach care less.
Not granting her mind a moment to consider even denying such a generous offer, she quickly scrambled towards the piece of meat and grasped it in her hands, not caring how hot it was against the skin of her palms as she gorged at it.
Had her septa seen her now, she would have called her a dog. Mayhaps solitude served her well at this moment.
Two long weeks had already passed since she had disappeared into the cave. The silence and boredom had given her much time for her to clearly think of something time consuming to do.
She would spend hours floating in the water that had begun to move in soft waves, staring up at the ceiling as she listened to the white noise beneath the water's surface. Her blue and torn overdress left to stay dry on the moist stone where she had spent so long sitting.
The two dragons would watch her as she floated, amazed by her buoyancy. The red dragon dipping her snout curiously into the water only to jump back at the cold.
The green dragon kept the ground warm, charring it with his flames before resting upon it. It was rare for him to stay so long, having to leave upon hearing the mere sound of a low growl coming from deep within the cave but as the days passed he had spent more time with the other two, no longer seeming so eager to leave. Only leaving to fetch some food for the two late in the evening
He was a marvel of elegance. His hazel yellow eyes were stark against his skin of iridescent deep green. An orange pattern lining the length of his spiked spine, four not yet fully grown twisting ivory horns protruded from the crown of his head and his wings were of a faded orange hue.
She was thankful for their presence, it was because of them that she had not succumbed to the madness of loneliness.
Her tongue had become so used to speaking with them, or more suitably, commanding them to seize their bickering.
They had reminded her so much of Jace and Luke, the strong nature of her brother Jace shining from the green dragon, while the gentle, almost timid nature of Luke seemed to glow from the red dragon. How she had missed them. She would find herself hoping that when she would look at either side of her that one of her brothers would be there, but it was cruel of her to hope that they had been trapped down there with her.
She tried to will their faces from the darkness behind her closed eyes, as though darkness had not surrounded her, but all she could muster of them was a blur.
A loud clap of thunder boomed throughout the cave, startling Daenerys.
As her head dropped beneath the water she quickly moved to swim upright, eyes frantically searching her surroundings to find the source of that bone shaking sound.
It came again, its crackling voice carried throughout the cave system and into the cavern she was in, sending ripples through the water as it passed by.
Daenerys screamed in fear as the sound came again, rushing to the wall she would always lay against, pushing herself against it, trying by some miracle to push herself through to the other side of it.
The dragons were as startled as she was, squeaking out feeble roars as they searched for the threat.
The sound of the angry storm stirring outside seeped into the many small crevices that littered the cave she was trapped in. The tides crashing against the walls that overlooked the sea, the waters current pushing inside and giving movement to the once forever still water, the crevices catching the tides droplets and guiding it quickly the cave,
Daenerys pointlessly covered her ears, hoping to block out the frightening sound. The thunderous echoes blanketed whatever thought she had in her mind, they were so loud she could not hear her own visceral whimpers that came from the back of her throat, nor could she hear her red dragon calling out to her worriedly.
The red dragon had lowered her head in distress, flinching everytime the sound of thunder would come running past from every direction. She looked up at the balled up and shaking Daenerys, whining out to her, hoping that she would understand what was happening, but she would not answer.
The red dragon whimpered, squeaking as she heard another crackle of lightning. She crawled and hid away in Daenerys’s lap.
The green dragon kept a close eye on his surroundings as he moved towards Daenerys, crawling up her arm and curling around her neck, cocooning her and the red dragon with his wings.
From deep within the cave the sound of a loud worried roar fought to echo over the thunder, but it was too quiet to be heard over the lightning's rumbling booms.
The water had not brightened in quite some time since the storm echoed in the cave. Daenerys had begun to lose count of how many days had passed since she was trapped in the cave. Her eyes seemed to be permanently blown wide in fear as she waited in agonsing anticipation of another clap of thunder to resound, she had been left ill at ease since the first time it had happened.
She ran a shaking hand as gently as she could over the trembling red dragons back, her soft crooning served to soothe Daenerys in return. She had not left her side since that night, not caring how many times the green dragon had kindly urged her to return with him to their nest.
The green dragon would often return whenever he would leave, it was rare for him to be gone too long, but everytime he had returned he would seem terribly on edge. Glancing behind him worriedly before looking at Daenerys.
He was curled at her feet with his tail twisted around her knee.
The red dragon was displeased by his comfort around Daenerys, knowing that only weeks ago he would have set Daenerys alight. She bit at his relaxed tail, peeling it away from Daenerys' knee.
He squawked as he jumped forward, whipping his tail about as he roared at the crooning dragon on Daenerys’s lap.
Daenerys frowned at the dragon laid on her lap, resting her hands at her sides as she laid back “Bona iksos daor sȳz,” that was not kind, she chided the whining dragon that missed her touch.
A noise akin to laughter came from the back of the green dragon's throat, prompting the irked red dragon to leap forward and squeak out a roar.
Daenerys always found it odd how difficult it was for the red dragon to roar. Mayhaps she was still growing out of being a hatchling, she always had an odd sway when she took flight.
The little dragons began to taunt and bite at one another “Gūrogon bisa!” Seize this, she told.
The two had not stopped, for they did not know that she had been addressing them.
She huffed as she realised how difficult this was going to be “Zaldrīzoti!” she shouted.
They seized their fighting, the green dragon peeling the red dragon off of him.
Daenerys sighed as she watched them huff and whine at her chiding “Shijetra issa kostilus, yn ao kostagon daor vīlībagon, ao issi raqirossa issi ao daor?” forgive me please, but you should not fight, you are friends are you not? The two continued to huff at Daenerys’s words “Issi ao lēkia se mandia?” are you brother and sister?
Her question earned her an answer close enough to a confirmation, for the two only growled at the other as they rested at either side of Daenerys.
Daenerys eyes stared at the darkness that surrounded them before asking “Skoro syt gaomagon ao daor henujagon bisa dīnagon?” why do you not leave this place? The question earned her an indifferent croak from the red dragon “Ao issi zaldrīzoti, ao sytilībagon dāez isse se jēdar,” you are dragons, you belong free in the sky, she told them as though they had not known.
The little dragon hid her face beneath her wing as she recalled her fearful encounter with the Cannibal, it was the only time she had left the cave, for she was deemed unready to go outside alone.
Daenerys recognised the action from the first time she had met the little thing, her hands scooping the little dragon in her arms as though she were a babe “Gaomagon daor sagon zūgagon, se uēpa dyni jāhor kostagon daor ōdrikagon ao…” Do not be afraid, the old beast cannot hurt you, she assured before a frown lined her forehead.
She had not a clue what to call the two, aside from dragon of course, and even that was a difficult means to address one of them if the both of them were there.
“Skorkydoso qopsa bisa jāhor sagon lo umbagon mijegon brōzāt,” how difficult this will be if you remain without names, Daenerys said.
The two looked up at her, confused by what she had meant.
Daenerys was hesitant as she asked the two “Kostagon nyke brōzi ao?”
Might I name you.
Such an intimate thing to do, once a Targaryens egg had hatched or had laid claim to a dragon, they had the freedom of granting it a name of their choosing.
Daenerys had dreamed of that moment for so long, for the day her dragon egg would hatch and reveal to her a dragon to call her own.
She did not feel this was that moment, even though the two dragons did not seem against the request. The red dragon was the first to encourage her with a soft croak.
Daenerys had not realised how her face glowed with excitement, looking over to the green dragon who did not seem to object to her request.
She had only ever had one name for a dragon in mind, and it belonged to the one she would one day claim for herself. So she had begun to ponder two new ones for the little dragons that surrounded her.
But the skill seemed to slip her mind for she would come up with nothing she was satisfied with.
A soft croon had interrupted her deliberating, glancing down to her lap her eyes met with the big blue eyes of the red dragon wrapped around her arm as she rested on her lap.
Daenerys felt her heart melt at the credulousness within those eyes, she was grateful to have been there to save the little thing, and she was thankful she had not met her moments prior.
“Raeva,” she spoke suddenly, enjoying how the name had tasted on her tongue as she spoke it, asking the dragon “Gaomagon ao raqagon ziry?” Do you like it?
The little dragon nuzzled her head into Daenerys’s arm.
She chuckled at the action “Olvi syri… Raeva.”
A quick croak caught her attention, glancing to her right she looked at the green dragon, who had acted distracted. Giggling, she scratched the back of his head, an action that had startled him at first before he had begun to arch against her touch. Daenerys jokingly suggested to the smart dragon “Nyke pendagon Kenjaegon iksos nykeā sȳz brōzi syt ao,” I think Kenjaegon suits you best.
The green dragon's eyes flew open, croaking in disagreement, annoyed by the name. He stared at her awaiting a better suggestion, and it better had been good or else he would have taken off.
She chuckled at his childishness “Skorkydoso bē Naebor?” How about Naebor?
The little dragon pondered the name, concluding that it would suffice before returning to rest beside Daenerys.
A soft smile tugged on her lips as she looked at the two “Raeva se Naebor…” she muttered before resting her head against the wall.
As the weeks past the storm had not, continuing to cruelly keep Daenerys from a sound sleep. Raeva and Naebor had been kind enough to keep her warm, blanketing her with their wings, for they saw that setting a pile of woods alight was pointless, for Daenerys had always managed to find a way to put it out.
She was surprised by how long she had been able to stay alive, for as dehydrated as she was, Naebor had made sure to keep her well fed, screaming at her until she reluctantly ate the meat he had brought for the day.
Time had made Daenerys gaunt and sickly, no matter how much she had brushed her hair, locks of it had begun to mat. Her tongue had begun to forget how to speak the common words, for who else could she speak the language to other than herself. She far enjoyed speaking high Valyrian to Raeva and Naebor.
Her mother would have been proud to see how well she had perfected her mother tongue, practically adopting the accent as her own. Her brothers would have sought her out to teach them rather than have to bear the boredom of having the Maester teach them.
She hummed in delight as she imagined how their eyes would widen with wonder if she had the chance to tell them about Raeva and Naebor. Mayhaps she could even introduce the two to her brothers. But even if she could leave this dreary place, why would the two dragonlings even bother following her, would they not simply part ways, never to see the other again?
She would rather die than have that be true, they had grown dear to her and she had hoped that they had held a similar sentiment of her. She did not wish to live through the dejection of being cast away by her dearest friends again, she would not bear to feel such dejection again.
She wondered how they were, if they had paid any mind or were even aware of her absence, had her mother already spread the news? Or was she thankful to be forever spared the headache her daughter had given her.
Daenerys shook away such thoughts, impossible, her mother loved her, her father had told her that she nearly set the keep alight when Daenerys was only missing for a day, what could weeks of Daenerys’s absence have done to Rhaenyra.
She shivered at the thought.
She wondered how her mother would feel if she were to ever find her, how quickly would her relief be stomped out if she were to hear what her sweet daughter had done, the blood that had so soon stained her hands.
Would she forsake her, would she wish that she had stayed gone?
She only did it to protect herself, she would not have done it otherwise.
The water grazing the side of her face caused her to flinch and sit upright. She grimaced in confusion as she saw how far the water had risen, taking up half of the small amount of land Daenerys could settle upon.
The sound of flapping wings alerted her, it was Naebor, returning earlier than usual, but without a leg of meat in his claws.
He did not land before Daenerys, instead he continued to fly over the water as he urged her to grant him her attention. He gestured behind him, squawking for her to follow.
Raeva seemed to understand, moving away from Daenerys and taking off behind Naebor.
Daenerys remained confused, glancing over towards Naebor, who gave her a nod of assurance.
Standing up she looked down at her worn overdress, it had taken so long for it to dry. Taking it off she left it on the ground furthest away from the water.
She gulped as she looked down at the water, she had only floated in it, too scared to swim across it and get lost. Bunching the skirt of her greyed night gown in her hands she stepped into the water, grimacing as its cold stung her skin.
So quickly she had begun to shudder as she submerged her entire body into the water, looking up at Naebor angrily “Bisa sȳrkta sagon syt nykeā sȳz drīve,” this better be for a good reason, she warned.
The often swift Naebor was kind enough to fly slowly as he waited for her to follow him, knowing that he did not need to be that far for her to lose sight of him within the cave.
He guided her to their nest, a mess of bones, twigs and dragon dung. She was averse to none of that, for she was too eager to get out of the waters burning cold. Her arms wrapping around herself as she stood awkwardly in their nest, frowning as she felt the water pushing at her feet.
Naebor squawked for her to follow him, leading her towards a small but big enough crevice in the wall.
She knelt down in front of the hole, looking through it. Her heart fluttered as she saw it, the glow of the outside, a place she had spent too long away from. A shuddered sigh left her lips as she felt the warm comforting embrace of relief, of hope.
It was a steep climb towards the blinding glow, but it was not a difficult one for her to make.
Naebor and Raeva frantically urged her to go through, to get out, to leave, to finally be free. Had she a tail, Naebor would have dragged her by it through the tunnel.
Looking about the walls of the tunnel, she searched for a point of leverage. Wiping her hands onto the dry stone that framed the tunnel before gripping a round stone within it and pulling herself through.
She moved with desperation, for as much as she thought she deserved naught but death for her doings, there was still a part of her strong enough to take hold and tell her to survive, to live.
The glow began to fade, revealing to her a silhouette she had not seen in a long time, as its edges sharpened she knew it to be Dragonstone, the castle she had long abhorred.
This very moment it looked like the fortress of the heavens, emerging from the stormy clouds.
A lopsided grin was plastered on her face as she continued to climb, the encouraging sounds of Raeva and Naebor’s roars fueling her. She set aside her exhaustion as she felt her muscle begin to burn, knowing she could rest all she wished once she had made it outside.
As she stared up at the heavens again, she frowned for a shadow seemed to eclipse them. A low growl rumbled from its chest as its bright red eyes stared back at her, narrowing with rage at her trespass. Its locked jaw came open dropping the sheeps carcass its feets before crawling its way into the cave, its size seemed to fill the tunnel, and its darkness smited any light that tried to seep through.
Daenerys saw nothing for a moment, she could only hear a rumbling breath and the frantic cries of Naebor and Raeva behind her.
Suddenly, the cave was illuminated red, as fire channelled through from the shadows gullet.
Daenerys let go of the stone she had been holding onto and slid down the bumpy tunnel, the fire searing off the hairs on her face.
She tumbled out of the tunnel, stopping at the shore. Raeva rushed to her side, croaking in worry.
Naebor turned to look towards the tunnel, ready to voice reason, but he was not even granted the chance as the shadow came rushing through, its roars a rasp as it swiftly creeped towards Daenerys, wisps of bright red flame flowing from the corners of its mouth, eager to lash at her flesh.
Daenerys’s eyes were wide with fear as she saw it, illuminated by the red flames and blue glow of the water behind her. A pitch black beast with eyes a bright blood red, the web of its wings a dark shade of crimson and head adorned with a crown of sharp horns that protruded from its face, two curling up from the corners of its jaw.
It was twice the width of Naebor and its wings were not even spread.
She scrambled back and into the water, diving deep into its depths, narrowly missing the flames that chased after her. She stayed beneath the water for as long as she knew she could, swimming towards where she thought was her haven.
Her tightly sealed lips fell agape, her scream deafened in the water as she felt sharp teeth dig into her leg. Turning to look behind her she was horrified to see that the shadow had followed her into the water, never had she heard of a dragon capable of doing such a thing.
It did not taunt her as it kept its jaws locked tightly around her leg, it maintained a steely look of determination, a determination she had only ever seen in her mothers eyes.
Water had begun to fill her lungs and terror began to weigh on her heart as she saw the blood that clouded the water from her foot.
She pointlessly kicked at the dragon, trying to pry it away, but it would not let go.
Its eyes were locked at her neck, it knew how easy this would have been had its teeth been clamped around her neck.
Her tears disappeared into the water as she fought to survive, incapable of swimming up to the surface with him keeping her down by her wounded foot.
Suddenly its jaw fell open, its pained roar muffled by the water.
Daenerys was swift to take her chance and swam up to the surface, nearly choking on the air she desperately tried to breathe in. Ahead of her, she saw her saviours, Naebor and Raeva biting at the shadows' tail, both unafraid of what it could do to them.
Turning around she rushed to swim back to shore, her blood trailing behind her as it clouded the water.
She could not find relief as she reached the shore. Still trembling with fear and the high of adrenaline, in disbelief of what had occurred.
She did not dare lift her leg up from the bloody water, too scared to see what had become of it, but she could not continue to let it bleed. Glancing over her shoulder she was relieved to find the cloth that she had used to hold her fathers dagger. Stretching across the wet ground, she pulled it by the tips of her fingers, and sat back up.
With shaky breaths, she slowly lifted her leg from the water. A shuddered whimper left her lips as she felt the cold ache that rushed up her leg.
The dragon's sharp teeth had dug deep into her leg, marring the flesh with bruises and bite marks but sparing the bone. The bleeding had not seized, continuing to ooze from the many holes that littered her leg.
She sobbed as she saw the blood coat her leg, she needed a hand, something to hold, or something to hold her. She wished that her mother was her, to hold her in her arms and whisper to her words of encouragement while the Maester expertly tended to her.
But there was no one.
Her teeth dug into her lower lip, muffling her groans as she wrapped the cloth around her leg. She knew she needed it to stop bleeding, but beyond that, she had not a clue on how to mend this horrific injury.
Her arms went rigid as her hands held either end of the cloth, knowing what she must do, but too terrified to go forth with it.
Daenerys was a child, she had not the stomach for this.
But child or not, it was what she had to do.
With a sharp tug, she tightened the cloth around her leg.
Her screams, stronger than any roar or boom of thunder were for the first time in the weeks she had spent in that cave, the only thing to echo within the cave.
OMG the last two chapters!! KICKING SCREAMING THROWING UP! I WAS RIGHT! i had a lil theory on what happened to dany and I'm so proud of myself to see the clues you left for me to deduce what happened! And that's a mark of your great writing!!
Im so excited to see dany rise from the dead, leaving everyone screaming after seeing her with her three dragons.
♥️ 🥭
YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY I AM TO HEAR THAT THE LITTLE HINTS IM LEAVING BEHIND ARE BEING NOTICED😆😆😆- I try to make sure that everything that’s being written is important and relevant to the story, leaving bits of clues here and there- something I don’t think I did that well on the last chapter but hopefully I’m gonna be better at in the next (AND FINAL) chapter of act I.
So happy to hear from you anon💞 can’t wait to hear more of your theories!
Song to listen to, if you're up for it: Where's my Love, the Alternative Version by SYML: https://open.spotify.com/track/5IH7HQEWhToZnMQTZRzp1H?si=jk14dbvMQJSD3J5udfsEoA
Note From The Author: Much much love for @ewanmitchellcrumbs for proofreading this, and for @theromanticegoist @humanpurposes and @sapphire-writes for being a fresh set of eyes! (I went overboard with test readers coz I genuinely am proud of this and needed it to be PERFECT!)
THEY SAY MADNESS IS A SLOW DISEASE, and that nobody truly knows when it begins.
They were wrong. Aemond Targaryen knew very well the exact moment the madness had sunk its claws into his wife. He had watched as her once bright and hopeful eyes became empty and devoid of emotion. He had watched as she was pulled into the darkness completely, becoming a shell of the woman she once was.
As much as he wished he could turn back time, he had accepted his fate. He accepted that he would never have his wife back. He would never hold her in his arms again and never get to lay his head on her lap as she embroidered. She would never read to him in her mellifluous voice ever again, despite the fact that he would give everything he had to have her with him once more.
What good was all this power and wealth, if he could not protect his own family? What good was his title as Prince Regent, if he did not have her to stand by his side? If he could not protect his little boy?
His hair, once braided to the side by her deft and nimble fingers with love, remained uncared for, left loose in all its glory. Training his one dark-rimmed, tired eye at the crypt that held the ashes of his heir, Aemond Targaryen let the sadness take him - for when his son’s life was brutally snuffed out, his wife’s very soul had been too.
There was nobody to blame for it all apart from himself.
EVER SINCE THEIR WEDDING, she had been a steady and calm presence in his life. She was the quiet to his rage, the water to his fire. He had always been a sullen and lonely child that harbored resentment for those who had wronged him, but he felt his heart steadily calm down with every moment he spent in her presence.
It wasn't until he met her that he realized he was lacking love and consideration, both of which he believed had never received before - not like this. She gave him an opportunity to be a better man; one that he took eagerly with both arms.
In return, he was a respectful husband who did his very best. He wasn’t adept at great gestures of love, but he always made sure that his wife woke with a kiss to her hair and his arms enveloping her body. He wanted her to never know loneliness for as long as he lived, he would make sure of it.
For all his reading and knowledge, Aemond was not good at making his appreciation known verbally. Instead, he would bring her huge tomes from the library so he could read to her. These books covered topics that he was passionate about, so everytime he brought one, he was offering up a part of his soul. Who better to give it to than the woman he has sworn his heart, soul and loyalty to?
He needed her. He needed her from deep in his soul, and he needed her carnally, always. She was all that was missing in his life, and now that he had her, he would always need her.
But right now, as her screams erupted through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, Aemond’s heart lurched in his chest, becoming heavier with each passing moment. The babe was arriving, and it would seem that the child was taking her for all that she was. Everytime she groaned in pain, he held onto the railing tighter than ever, as though it would make her pain go away.
They would not let him in, no. Childbirth was a woman’s fight, and the men would have to wait outside - much like the women did when the men went to battle. There was nothing he would not give to hold her hand right now; to tell her that she would be an absolutely beautiful mother, and that all she had to do was summon all her strength and emerge victorious.
As though she had heard his thoughts, her pained wails slowly died down, replaced by the first cries of a newborn. Boy or girl, the babe had an incredibly strong pair of lungs on them, their mighty cries could overshadow even the loudest of thunderstorms. The cries echoed through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, and the servants outside immediately jumped to work. A new royal babe had been born after all - there was work to be done, celebratory feasts to be organized, chambers to be prepared, nothing but the best for a Targaryen.
His mother stepped out of the chambers and laid a hand on his back in comfort. She kissed him on the cheek and smiled in congratulations. “Mother and babe are well, my son. She has made me so proud. The little one is beautiful, he would go on to achieve many great things. Just like you.”
A son. She had given him an heir to carry his bloodline. How would he ever repay her?
He walked into the chambers with speed that he did not know he possessed, his purpose made clear with each stride. The midwives and maids moved to make way for the One-Eyed Prince, and in he went.
She laid in the middle of the chambers, looking like she had braved the worst experience of her life. Her hair was askew, with sweat coating her entire body, her fatigue was palpable. Blood and waters coated the floor, and the chambers smelled like death. The bloody spots on her shift alarmed him, and it concerned him to see his usually happy and energetic wife look so thoroughly worn out. But then she smiled.
Through all her weariness from the challenges of the birthing bed, she had meekly smiled at him - and all was alright in his world again. He held her cheek in his palm and kissed her forehead, heart full from knowing that she was alright. She reached for his other hand, holding onto it like it was the last thing that kept her tethered to reality.
“Are you well, wife?”
The seemingly simple question certainly did not project the waves of concern that had plagued him outside while he waited with bated breath, but she knew. She saw it in the crinkles on his forehead and the widening of his good eye.
“I am now.”
She had braved battle, and had never looked more beautiful to him than she did now. Her voice was hoarse from all the pained screaming, and she certainly had no business being awake right now - but by the Gods, he was the happiest man in the realm.
The maids were done with wiping the blood off of the babe and had handed the boy to her. Aemond knew right then that he would have to compete for his wife’s attention from then on, for his little son had clearly stolen her heart, and his, within moments of his birth.
Her weak voice called out to him once more. “Aemond, husband… look what we made.”
He was exquisite. Aemond reached out to the babe, his son, and his son's pudgy rose finger latched onto his long, sturdy one as he continued to cry. “He has a strong grip. He shall be a storied warrior." She smiles at the possibility, and he cannot help but kiss her hand once more.
"You’ve given birth to a lad as strong as you are, wife.” He watched as she nudged her nose to the babe’s and smiled, her face glistening from sweat and tears. His newborn son’s cries got louder with each passing moment, but despite being a man of silence and solitude, Aemond had never felt more at peace.
“Thank you.”
AEMOND WOULD BE THE FIRST TO DENY THAT he was a doting paragon of a husband that the bards would sing about, but he certainly was a good man who loved and respected his wife.
In the days that followed the birth of his child, he had spent every waking moment that he could spare with the pair of them. Both mother and son had the fierce One-Eyed Prince wrapped around their fingers. Between sparring sessions and battling his family’s idiosyncrasies on the daily, his little family had given him quite the reprieve, one that he was infinitely thankful for.
But now, his son is gone, and his wife is too.
“The heirs need to be kept safe. The twins, little Maelor, all three of them,” his mother said.
He may be in the middle of a war, but it was moments like these that seemed hardest to him. Aemond sat quietly by the hearth, in the very same chair where he always rested. His wife used to sit by him or at his feet as she embroidered. Now, her absence was a gaping hole each time he sat.
“Aemond…”
He turned to the sound of his grandfather calling out his name, looking cold and calculated. It did not escape Aemond that he was discussing the safety of his brother's children while he had lost his own. The irony of it all was stark and jarring.
“Yes,” he curtly responded.
“It is in our best interests that you…” His grandfather paused midway through his words, and Aemond knew well that the man did that only when unsettling news was to follow. “...that you take a new wife. We’re in need of an alliance, and she can be sent to the motherhouse at Oldtown. She will be cared for, she will be fed-”
He saw red. “My son is dead!” The words tumbled out of Aemond’s mouth like shards of glass before he could even comprehend the gravity of his grandfather’s heavy, cutting words.
"My son’s death is on my conscience, his blood is on my hands. I did not do the deed myself, but it certainly feels like I was the one who wielded the knife that killed him.” The people had taken to calling him a kinslayer, and Aemond felt it in his bones everyday - not because of Lucerys Velaryon, but because of how his rash actions had resulted in the death of his little boy.
“My son is dead, and my wife has not been the same ever since. How do you think I can start a new family, with a new woman, when I know very well that I have caused all the grief that has driven my wife to madness? When I caused the death of my own child?”
Aemond Targaryen always made for a menacing sight, but his grandfather was not prepared for the kind of anger that his grandson had kept stored in him - for himself, his wife, and his son. They were not here, and he was angry enough for all three of them.
The Dowager Queen watched the entire conversation unfold, and she held her hand to her chest, feeling her heartbeat become frantic with each moment that she saw her son in distress. She knew how content he was in his wife's presence, and how much he loved her. To watch a child grow and fester in his own resentment - no mother should have to witness it. And yet, the Gods saw fit to give Alicent Hightower the closest view to her son's heartbreak.
“Get out,” he seethed. Otto Hightower took Aemond’s raw and angry words in stride before walking away, his head still held high.
His mother stood in front of him, held his hand and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sorry, my boy. I’m so sorry…”
She wept until she could not, and it took everything Aemond had in him to not do the same.
WHEN HE TOSSED AND TURNED IN THEIR BED in the middle of the night, he would always reach out for her.
She would always welcome his touch and curl into him, her forehead resting on the smooth planes of his chest and her warm breath making goosebumps rise on his skin. He would hold her tight until neither could ascertain where one ended and the other began, and sleep that normally eluded him would come to him faster than anything else.
Tonight, her spot on the bed is empty.
When he woke in a hurry, he noticed the crumpled sheets and the pillows left askew, the only evidence of her having retired to bed alongside him. He quickly rose from the bed and tried to calm his rapidly beating heart, wondering as to where she could have gone at this ungodly hour.
Gods, was she hurt?
He did not have to wait for the divine deities to answer, for his answer came in the form of the sweet humming sounds that he had grown to love. He followed her voice as he walked through their apartments, and it led him to the chamber where his son’s crib was kept. She was sitting next to it in her white shift, her head peeping in as she let her hands rest on the crib. She hummed softly and happily, marveling at how beautiful her little boy looked as he slept - looking much like the man she shared her bed with.
Aemond wanted to ask her to come back to bed immediately. The maesters had advised lots of rest for his wife, given the stress of the labors and the damage her body had taken. But as he watched her and his boy, he knew he couldn’t. He needed a moment to drink in the sight of his wife and son - his entire world, all in one chamber.
He held so much love in his heart for them both despite seeing them only with one eye. Perhaps he’d be able to love them more if he could see them with two.
“He’s going to be there when we wake, wife. Come back to bed.”
She turned to him and smiled, a warm smile that he wished he could brand into his mind for all eternity. “Did I wake you?”
“You did not. Your absence from our bed did.”
She chuckled softly, and he walked over to her. He positioned himself behind her chair and kissed her temple, letting his hands rest on her shoulders. “I don’t think I shall ever tire of looking at him,” She said.
“Hm.” His gaze rested on the sleeping babe, tired from all his crying throughout the day.
“My son, a dragon prince,” She mused. “He’ll be charming, strong and intelligent, just like his father.”
At that, he chuckled darkly and she rose, turning around to face him. Her hand found his cheek and he leaned into her touch, leaving a light kiss on her wrist as he held her hand in place. “What’s so amusing, husband?”
“Charming is not the first word anyone would use to describe me, wife.”
“Well, you are. To me.” Her whispering siren-like voice was like music to his ears.
She reached up on her toes and left a light kiss on his brow, and Aemond was quick to hold her to him by the waist, wanting to have this - this quiet solace - all to himself for a time.
Who was he to argue with the woman around whom his entire world revolved? The very one that held his heart in her hands?
HE STANDS IN THE MIDDLE OF what used to be their shared chambers and sighs.
The entire room is covered in pieces of her - fragments of her that he desperately clings to for dear life. Robes and dresses that she had not worn in a long time, but still manage to somehow retain her scent. Quills and ink that she used to write her correspondence with, now left to gather dust. Ten Thousand Ships, her favorite book, one that he had given to her as a name day present, laid abandoned on the bedside table.
This was the very same chamber where he had claimed her. This was where he had first admitted to loving her. This was where she had told him that she was with child. This was where they had spent countless nights talking well into the night, their bodies entwined and voices coming out in hushed whispers and low giggles. This was where they had discovered and learned of the passions of the marital bed, together. This was where their marriage had grown and bloomed.
If he walks a little further, his feet will take him to the adjoined room where his son used to sleep - but try as he might, he does not have the strength for that. Not yet.
He sits by the edge of their bed, the sunlight passing through the windows in streaks of yellow gold. He closes his good eye, hoping for a little time to adjust to the light. Perhaps if he closes it hard enough, he will be able to picture her sitting by the window with her focused eyes trained on her embroidery or one of his books, waiting for him to come back to her after his daily duties.
His nose flares at the unearthly reminder that his wife is no longer his by side. She had been full of happiness and life, and she had brought light into his life. He welcomed it for as long as she was around, but now that she was gone, he closes his eye and avoids it like the plague, much like he does with the sunlight that now warms his skin.
Her world has become dark because of him. How can he sit in the light in good conscience, when he knows he has lost all right to it?
THE WAVES CRASHED BY THE SHORES of Blackwater Bay and she sat on the sands, watching them. She had a book in her hands, and a basket of food that she had the maids prepare for them to take.
Her eyes closely followed her husband as he held their baby son’s hands upright, his little pudgy feet resting over his huge boot-clad ones as he led them forward. The little boy’s gurgling and laughing echoed through the wind, and she took a bite of a juicy apple while holding a book in her other hand.
They were the picture of a happy family, the stories of whom may be immortalized in songs for years to come.
He had not yet begun to walk, and his words were all a blubbering mess - but Aemond Targaryen was not known for being patient. He insisted on guiding his son to his feet so his first steps would come to him quicker, and spoke to him in High Valyrian in hopes that his first words would be in his native tongue.
Her boys had walked all the way toward her with her baby’s toes pressing onto Aemond’s feet harshly. He picked him up and held him then, and his son’s hands landed on his eyepatch. It had become his favorite little plaything these days - the boy took to wrangling it off his father’s head and swinging it with his two fat fingers until he grew tired - that was if he did not notice the sapphire first. By the Gods, if he did, he would insist on taking that off to play with too. His son, like him, had a taste for the finer things in life, it would seem.
“He’s taken well to the waters, I think,” she said. Her fondness for the little lad and her husband was evident in her face as she watched them. Her son had taken to swinging his arms in all directions, occasionally hitting his father’s face.
“Water does not mix with fire and blood. He should not be taking so well to the waters.”
“Suppose he can embrace it all then. Perhaps he’s… special.” She rose to meet her son’s eyes, leaving a kiss on his cheek. The boy smiled, a handful of his father’s alabaster hair in his hands as he pulled. Aemond winced, and she giggled.
“Zaldrītsos…” Aemond murmured, a quiet plea to his son to stop. It fell on deaf ears, but he did not mind. [Little dragon]
A maid had come to inform them that their presence was requested in the keep, and Aemond handed the boy over to her before walking back to give his wife his hand. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and rubbed her hand with his before leading them away, their steps slow and relaxed.
“We should have another,” she said. Her smile, the source of all his content, was as bright as the sun. “You should take me tonight,” she murmured then, eyes quickly blackened by lust. He watched as the girl with childish wonder transformed into a seductress, and he lost even before he tried - defeat had never felt sweeter.
He could never deny her anything she wanted.
“Do you want me, wife?” He muttered darkly as he halted his steps, turning towards her. He held her by the waist and kissed her brow, waiting for her to respond.
“I always want you,” she murmured, eyes fluttering at the closeness of his lips. Her bright eyes sought his lilac one as the sound of the waves rippled through the air. “I also want to bear you another child. Would you like that, husband? Another little babe for us to love…”
He nodded and kissed her, pouring all his passion into it as he devoured her lips. “You do look beautiful, belly round and full with my child.”
That night, he choked her name out like an urgent prayer while he spilled into her, his peak following soon after hers. He then peppered kisses across her face and neck as the smell of sweat and coupling engulfed them, while she held onto his hair and let her hand wander over it in a soothing manner. He rubbed a hand over her belly, praying that his seed had taken. If not, he would seek her out and touch her everywhere once more - he would never be tired of her.
If another child was what she desired, then she shall have it - for how could he ever deny her?
THE BURNS AND INJURIES HAD RUINED any spirit Aegon may have had as King.
He had watched his brother as he grew into a fierce protector of his family soon after being crowned. Ser Criston had made clear the dangers that they posed to Rhaenyra with their very existence, and it was all Aegon needed to grow into his role as the rightful monarch. However, he had gotten ahead of himself and underestimated his skills as a dragonriding fighter and gotten himself hurt.
Aemond’s role as Prince Regent was something that he slid into seamlessly - he had always known that he was the better fit for the throne after all. His first action was to ensure the safety of his own wife, Helaena and her three children.
“They’ve been moved to our father’s old chambers. Deep in the Holdfast, far away from any possible intru-”
“I know where the chambers are, Aemond. Will you shut up? You’re giving me a headache.” Aegon interrupted, words slurred as he sipped on Arbor Red. The wine sloshed in the cup as it moved in his unsteady hands.
His eyes were trained on his brother, a tired and tested man who was now incharge of running a Kingdom. Aegon knew that the crown was heavy, but it did not compare to the weight of the world that Aemond always carried on his shoulders. It only seemed to have gotten worse since his son’s death and his wife’s isolation.
“Does she fare any better?”
“No.” It is all Aemond wishes to say on the matter.
While he may not want to speak of the family he had lost, Aemond knew that he would protect those he was left with every breath in his body if need be. He may not have been there for his little boy, but he would die before he let a hair on any of his remaining family members’ heads be touched. The regret of being an inadequate husband and father pricked at him like the heat from the bright blaze of the fire in the hearth, and he walked out with purpose.
He knew where he was going next. After all, his feet always carried him to her at nightfall.
WHEN AEMOND CAME HOME DRIPPING WET from the rain that had drenched him at Storm’s End, he was convinced that he had ruined everything good that he had. He could not imagine a simple scratch on his little boy without feeling angered - how could he expect Rhaenyra to simply accept her son’s death?
He had to get them safe. He had to keep them safe. He had to keep them safe. Safe, safe, safe.
She had just left the babe with the nursemaid and come to their chambers to find a moment of quiet before her son’s inevitable crying began again. Her eyes widened when she opened the door to find her husband completely drenched, looking like he was inviting death with open arms. He may as well have.
“Aemond..” She rushed to him immediately, hands going to his damp hair and clothes. “Gods did it rain on your ride back home? Let me fetch you some clean clothes and something to dry yourself with.” He reached out to her before she could go too far, and she gasped at how cold his touch was. It was always warm, and tonight it was not.
“Stay, please.”
“I need you to put on something warm first, Aemond. You’ll catch a chill.”
She was too distracted by his wet state to notice the tears mixed with the raindrops. He said nothing as she walked away and brought back fresh garb for him to change into. She quietly bade that he raise his arms and he obeyed, not having the strength to do anything else. Slowly, each garment fell with a wet thwack to the floor and she took to wiping all the water off of him.
His grave silence unnerved her immensely, and she knew something was wrong. She would wait for him to say it.
She dressed him in a linen undershirt and breeches and took him to his beloved chair by the fire, in hopes that it would warm him up and encourage him to tell her of what plagued him. He sat in silence for a long while as she sat cross-legged on the floor, her forehead leaning on one of his thighs while her finger drew mindless patterns on the other.
His hand always reached for her hair when they sat like this, but tonight, that was not the case. She looked up at him with inquiring eyes, and as he caught her vision with his one eye, he did not have the heart to tell her what he had done, but he had to.
“I killed Lucerys Velaryon.” His voice is hoarse and the words are choked out with difficulty, and while the weight of his actions hit him hard, it was harder to watch his sweet wife’s concerned face morph into something else entirely.
“What?”
“He was sent as an envoy. I only meant…” He gulped, and the tears fell freely once more.
She quickly lifted herself up and straddled him, holding his face in both her hands. Her fingers caught every tear that fell in quick succession. “Tell me, go on.”
“I only meant to scare him. I need you to believe me, I did not mean to kill him.”
Her husband was a proud man, and it made her stomach churn to see him sound so broken. She feared that she may not like what she was about to hear, but she had promised to be his other half for all his life, and now he needed her.
He may be fearsome, but he was not a cold-blooded murderer. He did not mean to kill him - but how much weight did his intent hold, now that the boy was dead?
“I believe you. Go on.”
“The dragons…” He let out a hoarse breath and she continued to wipe at his tears with the tips of her thumbs - softness that he right now felt very undeserving of. “Arrax breathed fire at Vhagar and she retaliated, she bit into the dragon’s neck and Luke fell, so did Arrax.”
She felt light headed with worry. How could she stomach the thought of a young boy falling to his death from the skies? How could she, when she was a mother to a little boy herself?
His uncle, Daemon, was going to come for them, Aemond was sure of that. But he could not bring himself to think of much else as he watched his wife digest all that he had told her, never once ceasing to remind him that she believed him, even if nobody else would.
When they rose, Aemond’s anger knew no bounds. The possible consequences ran through his mind as he pushed his desk onto the floor with brute force. The sharp edges of her vanity had drawn blood from the back of his hand as he moved in frustration, and she was quick to hold onto him and remind him of her presence. He was not alone, he had her.
“Take me. Take it out on me.” Aemond could not think straight, and she could not bear to see him hurt himself, any more than he already has. It is this very thought that drives her to take his hand and lay it upon her clothed chest.
He took her from behind that night, hands clutching onto her bouncing breasts. Every string that was stretched had snapped with each rough thrust into her, the sounds of skin slapping skin somehow seeming too rough that night. “We’re going to be fine, wife,” he groaned - and she did not know whom he was trying to placate - her, or himself?
“I will keep you safe, the both of you.”
When he was done projecting his anger onto her, she was left looking ragged with dried tear tracks on her face. He wanted to apologize - it seemed as though he hurt everything he touched, and after his now dead Stong nephew, his own sweet wife was his latest victim.
She held him between her breasts that night as they both wept, at a loss for words at what he had done. She did not know how to comfort him or rid him of the guilt or paranoia that his mind now played host to.
What she did know is that her husband needed her, and that she was not going anywhere. So when he suggested sending her and their son away, fearing for her safety, she begged him to let her stand by his side.
“If something were to happen to me, there would be nobody to protect you and our boy.”
“If something were to happen to you, our son and I would much rather follow you than brave many years alone.”
He reluctantly gave in, thinking that an increased guard and his constant presence around them would be enough to keep them unharmed.
How wrong he was. He had walked away only for a moment.
His wife had wanted to eat some cake during the night - he suspected that she was with child again. Little did he know that it was the last moment of their happy marriage. The sight that he had walked back into was something that would never fail to haunt him.
Dead guards, a whole litany of them. His wife in her bloodied white shift, holding onto their son’s decapitated body. All the light in her eyes had dimmed as he stood frozen in place, his eye widened at the harrowing sight before him.
She wailed as she clutched the corpse to her chest, with no care for the injuries on her own body, or the blood of their babe that was now mixed in with her own.
“My boy, my precious boy…”
The rest of the royal family soon followed and his mother pulled her away from the babe’s lifeless body. He fell to the floor with no one to hold him, and Aemond could do nothing but watch. Aegon’s angry calls for his nephew’s head to be brought back along with the killers slipped into one ear and slipped out the other, and he went numb as he realized that the consequences of his actions had caught up to him.
Him, he could understand. But his sweet wife, his little son? What had they done?
A son for a son.
The rational part of his mind would have argued that Luke’s death probably left Rhaenyra feeling the same tragedy that he was faced with - but he was anything but rational in that moment. His fists clenched as his knuckles met the wall, and Aegon had to physically restrain him from walking out to catch the rats himself.
“She needs you. She needs you. She needs you. Listen to me, Aemond!”
Helaena had collapsed onto the chair entirely, repeating ominous words that he did not register at all.
“Blood and Cheese. Blood and Cheese. Blood and Cheese.”
Aegon had gone to join in the hunt for his nephew’s killers, and she kept rocking herself back and forth at the sight of the blood that now painted the walls and floors of her brother’s chambers until she was led away. Aemond stood, all alone in a pool of his son’s and wife’s blood.
When the Silent Sisters were led into the chamber by his grandfather, Aemond froze. His wife had held their lifeless son to her breast as she cried, but he could not bring himself to look at him, much less touch him.
Hours later, with patches of his own son's blood soaked through his clothes, he had gone to see her. He held her in his arms as she sobbed through the night, trying to push him away with each firm hit to his chest. Aemond shushed her over and over to no avail, holding her closer each time she tried to separate herself from him. Sometime during that night, her eyes had become lifeless; a deep abyss. The sight of it finally drove him to tears too, with his good eye becoming a glistening violet ring floating in a sea of angry red.
They say madness is a slow disease, and that nobody truly knows when it begins. They were wrong. Aemond Targaryen knew very well the exact moment when the madness had sunk its claws into his wife.
It was right then as he held her, comforting her and apologizing like a madman for tainting her life with his presence.
THE MOONLIGHT DIVERGED THROUGH the stained glass windows that directly faced the room where she now resided. She had been kept in these chambers before their wedding, and she often spoke of how beautiful the lights were when they fell directly onto the corridors, reflecting the colors of the glass that they slid through. He wondered if she still thought the same. He wondered if she even looked.
In the day that followed their son’s death, they had burned their little boy and watched as his body was wheeled around the streets of King’s Landing for their benefit. Aemond had wanted to retch then, but he held his wife tight as the people empathized with the kind princess whose time as a doting mother had been brutally cut short.
She fared worse - she looked dead in her eyes, and he was sure she was lost on the inside too. He did not know if she even sensed his hold on her as she kept muttering their dead boy’s name in a series of weak whimpers.
Two days later, she had lost their second child. He held her from behind and rocked her gently as the blood flowed from between her thighs for hours, the babe coming out in clumps of bloodied skin, having never drawn breath. Every moment of his wife’s torture plagued Aemond’s existence, and he questioned his abilities as a protector while grieving his son and his unborn child all alone.
The Gods were cruel to him in their games. They made him watch as his son’s life was taken, and they took bits of his wife’s mind and soul with each passing day. He supposed that this was the hand that kinslayers were dealt.
It was a slow death for Aemond, and it had begun the day his son was killed. Now he had to watch as his once vivacious wife completely lost hold over all her senses, and lived in a world where he could not reach her.
On some days, she would receive him with love, as though his presence in her life had not destroyed her completely. He would be able to revel in her touch once more, if only to simply be able to remind himself that she was still alive - in body, if not soul. He missed her, his wife, his woman, his entire heart. But his actions had killed her from the inside - did he have a right to his yearning anymore? He did not want to know, for he feared that he may not like the answer.
On other days, she would be the complete embodiment of madness. She would fight the maesters and scream at them, begging for them to let her die and throw herself off the window. She would pull at her beautiful hair, blame him continuously and shriek, mourning the loss of their child.
When she was done, she'd lower her voice and murmur words into the air. Speaking to no one in particular, almost like a ghost, she'd fidget with her dress and say, "His body twitched after they hurt him. My baby boy suffered. Oh, my boy!"
He may not have wielded the knife that removed his head, but his actions caused it. He may as well have killed his son himself. Guilt was not an emotion that Aemond Targaryen knew well as a boy, but it was all he now knew as a grown man.
She would bawl and cry at him to go away. She would scream at him to leave her alone, and blame him for killing her children - and rightfully so. And though it pricked at his heart, he would come back every night.
He wonders how she is feeling tonight. He wishes she was ignorant and unaware, for he is desperate for her touch, her company. It has been weeks. He is brought back to reality when the Maester’s gown billows behind him in the night wind.
“Your Grace.” he bows.
“How is she?”
“Somewhat calmed tonight and not lucid, my prince.” The old man sighs before continuing. “The Princess continues to ask for her little prince. We have given her milk of the poppy, so she may fall asleep soon enough.”
“Hm.”
He is mildly relieved to hear that she is not herself tonight - for it allows him to relive some of their happier days.
In his hand is a book - Ten Thousand Ships, the very one that he had gifted her. He dismisses the maester and his stewards follow behind him. Aemond walks into the room with his mind steeled, ready to be brave - for himself and for her.
“Husband! Come, come!” Her cheery voice is not quite hers, and it unnerves Aemond - her words are not from her heart, and it takes everything in him to not fall to his knees and apologize once more for what he has done to her. “The Maester said our boy’s learning to walk! Did you see him? I was promised that you would bring him tonight! Where is he?”
Gone, where we cannot see him, he wants to say. But how could he, without wanting to throw himself at her feet in regret? “He is tired. All that walking has exhausted him.”
“I suppose, yes! They tried to force me to take that vile concoction once more tonight, I managed to push it away and evade them! Look!” His gaze follows her hand and sees the spilled milk of the poppy on the floor. His wife was a calm and steady woman, and now she was behaving like a child and mistreating maesters.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
“You should not do that, wife. It is not proper.”
He holds her hand and kisses her knuckles, before leaning his head back to look at her. Her hair has not been combed today, and he gently turns her around to run his fingers through her hair, digits trembling at touching her once more. She could come to at any moment and remember who had caused her such distress, and then she would cry until he walked away - the very real possibility rakes at Aemond, so he remains prepared for her to push him away any time now.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
"I know. I drank it the second time. I'm sorry."
He then turns her back to face him and notices the dark rims around her empty eyes. He sighs and lets out a long, heavy breath. If he was drunk enough and she was unaware, he would fool himself into thinking that they were alright. But they aren’t.
“It is time to go to bed, wife. Will you come with me?” I love you, I miss you and I am sorry. Will you come back to me? Please?
He kisses both her eyelids and leads her to the bed in her shift. He gently helps her lay down, following her immediately as he lays next to her. She leans into his hold seamlessly and he tightens his arm around her - it hurts him how despite her madness, her penchant to seek out his touch never changes.
He takes the book from the bedside table, and she squeals. “Will you read to me tonight, husband? I do love it when you read to me. Perhaps a quiet moment between the both of us before the maids bring our son back? You know how he makes a fuss and refuses to give us a moment of quiet!” She laughs, and Aemond holds his tears back once more.
“Of course.” He kisses her temple.
He begins reading and the dry sounds of his throat lull her to sleep in his arms as he rakes his fingers through her hair. When she has completely drifted away from him, he allows himself a moment of thought and kisses her on the lips.
He had taken her to wife, and sworn to protect her from any harm that may come her way. In the end, the only one she had to be protected from, was himself. He failed her, and now, he would not rest until he picked up all the pieces and put her back together.
When morning comes, she may still be unconscious of her surroundings and allow him some more time, or she may be lucid and scratch at his face until he leaves her alone. The uncertainty kills him, but he will allow himself to enjoy her tonight.
It was on this very day that he had kissed her for the first time, in the Sept, between the statues of the Mother and the Father. On this day, four years ago, they were married.
And on this day, he continues to read to her because she had asked, even when she had fallen asleep - for how could he ever deny her?
Summary: Alone and afraid Daenerys is forced to indulge the company of her own dreary thoughts and doubts, until she is granted a presence of something far more preferable.
A/n: I think this is the point where I want to say that English is my second language, so please. spare me. Like, I have the vision for how i want all this to go but very often I don't have the right words to describe that vision, (I have not fully edited this btw) don't think this is my best work, but I still hope yall enjoy💕
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Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Daenerys Velaryon (Strong! Oc)
Daenerys’s tired eyes peeled open, greeting a dark sky of false stars. Floating upon a warm and formless surface. She was still as she floated upon the waves, confused but at ease.
A rare moment of thoughtlessness, naught to worry about, naught to fear. As though she had indulged the strongest wine that left her mind in a haze.
She was confused by it all but she would not argue, it was a feeling she had longed for after all..
The calm that so comfortably sat on her face was shoved away as her eyes went wide open, gasping as she wondered to herself how long it had been, had she been found yet? Was she gone and dead?
This sudden disturbance caused her legs to move slightly from where they should have been, pulling her beneath the surface. Swimming upright to pull herself back up to the surface.
Breaking the surface she began to sputter out a thick substance that had coated her mouth.
Her heart had begun to beat in her stomach, forcing bile to rise to her throat as she saw what she had been floating in only moments ago. What her tongue had tasted.
She was surrounded by an endless ocean of thick warm blood. Crying out in fear as she was tugged down from the surface into its dark depths, gagging as she felt blood begin to fill her lungs.
A sharp tugging at her shoulder drew her out of this terrible slumber. Lifting her head her bloodshot eyes met those of a familiar little dragon, teeth pulling and tugging at the cloth of her shoulder, soft growls slipping between her teeth.
Daenerys groaned as she shook her head, an action she would soon regret as she grasped her head in her hands.
The action made the little dragon jump back in surprise.
Daenerys turned over onto her back, regretting the action as she bumped the back of her bruised head against the hard and cold ground.
Sitting up she gently rubbed at the tender flesh, hissing as it ached beneath her touch. Her vision was still a blur as she looked around herself, all she could make out was a teal blue glow illuminating the dark cave she was in.
A soft croak came from beside her, as she turned to look she was surprised to see the little dragon had not turned heel and left.
The little dragon tilted her head curiously at Daenerys.
Daenerys frowned, bewildered by the action. Looking away from her she turned her focus towards her legs, wincing as she felt the buzzing cold that nipped at them. Dragging herself away from the water she curled into herself, grasping at whatever warmth she had left.
The little dragon crooned as she saw Daenerys begin to shiver. Warily approaching her shaking form as she observed her. Her blue eyes seemed to soften with worry as she saw the discomfort on Daenerys’s face.
Before she could move any further, a loud, and shrill roar seemed to call out from deep within the cave.
The little dragon flinched at the sound, seemingly not expecting it to have come so soon.
Daenerys gasped as she recoiled into the stone wall behind her, frightened by the sound.
The little dragon looked towards her, blinking in contemplation before moving away and spreading her wings.
Daenerys’s eyes widened as she realised what she was doing, scrambling forward as she reached out “wait!”
The little dragon had already taken across the water, disappearing into the darker parts of the cave. She shrieked as she left an answer to the roar that had echoed before.
Daenerys’s eyes began to water, stung by the darkness that met them. Slowly retreating back towards the wall, rubbing her palms anxiously against the wet skirt of her torn dress, glancing about herself as she tried to find some means of an escape.
But there was nothing, only an expanse of glowing water, but as the hours passed the water's glow seemed to dim.
The silence was haunting within the eerie darkness.
The coldness of solitude stung her still damp skin.
Her legs were drawn to her chest, her face in her knees as she trembled and shuddered, the cold had almost grown to be nauseating.
But soon a warm flush of shame burnt her cheeks, for whatever matter had sent her wandering off seemed so trivial now, seeing what had come of it.
She should have listened to her mother, she should have wallowed in her chambers.
Instead she had wandered off, blindly, stubbornly thinking she knew what she was doing, though she knew nothing.
A shiver rolled up her spine as she recalled the taste of rust on her tongue, wanting to retch the taste out from her memory.
The sight kept flashing within the darkness of the cave, the way blood seemed to gush forth from the boy's neck, the way the blank haze of death glazed over his young eyes.
She shook her head, denying it again, it could not have been her doing, she would never do such a thing. Striking her head purposefully against the wall behind her, hoping that the pulsing ache would set that thought aside.
Her teary eyes stared out ahead of herself as she pleaded for herself to forget but she continued to tread on the memory of what had happened only hours ago.
Her hand slipped to her side, where her fathers dagger should have been, seeking its comfort.
But in its place was nothing.
Her gaze snapped down, alarmed by the absence of the knife, all that remained of it was its loose sheath.
“No, no, no, no, NO!” she muttered, tearing off the cloth from around her waist, hoping that the dagger would clatter to the ground as she shook the cloth in the air.
Dropping the cloth, she ran her hands through her hair, raking her mind for an answer as to when she had last had it in her grasp.
With such clarity she recalled it. She recalled how easily the sharp blade in her grasp had moved across Baldwin's neck, how much force she had needed to drive it into Ellis's shoulder and how difficult it was to try and pull it back out.
Her lips trembled as her eyes darted about in horror of what she had done as though their bodies were splayed out in front of her “Oh gods…” grimacing in disgust of the slimy feeling of guilt, of sin that moved across her skin.
She felt herself shrink as she imagined, somewhere within the dark cave, Baldwin and Ellis were standing, blood dried against their pale skin and clothes, eyes though blank were filled with loathing.
She began to heave and cry, hands shaking in front of her, refusing to touch her skin.
Nothing offered her comfort, not even herself, for she knew she deserved no sympathy.
“What have I done… gods what did I do…” she sobbed.
Her hands rested limp at her sides as she laid against the wall like a discarded doll. Red eyes staring blankly across the water that glowed brightly once more. Despair ageing her young face, and disgust still tugging at her upper lip.
Her skin felt revolting to her, it was as though mud and dung had dried upon it, but even that seemed less repulsive than the blood that still felt warm on her hands.
The first time every little girl would encounter blood was on their first flowering, the red staining the sheets of their bed, leaving them to cry into their mothers skirts in fear.
Daenerys had yet to bloom, and she had already encountered blood in the worst places. She encountered it on the young faces of her brothers and cousins, she had encountered it upon the face of her once beloved friend, she had encountered it during the assault on her dear father at the carnival at Spice Town. She had seen it in every place it should have never been and she was only one and ten.
Her mind was slowly slipping away, doing all it could to detach itself from the vileness its body had committed, denying the part it had played.
Wind cut through the water as the little dragon flew across it, back towards Daenerys, who was too lost in her own despair to notice the little thing.
In her claws, a handful of twigs and charred bones. Crooning as she neared Daenerys, landing a few steps away from her.
Her curious eyes observed the slumped Daenerys, confused by her lack of acknowledgement towards her.
The little dragon crept towards Daenerys, keeping a close eye on her, for fear of any sudden movement the girl could make, but she was worryingly still.
She dropped the twigs closely beside Daenerys before leaping back away, fearing that she had been waiting for her to get close enough to grasp. But Daenerys remained still.
The little dragon squeaked, tilting her head, bewildered by Daenerys’s behaviour or the lack thereof.
Shaking her head she glanced down to the small pile of twigs and bones, rolling her jaw. Wheezing out gasps of squeaky breaths as she looked down at the pile. Shaking her head as she dragged her wing over it, the little thing was frustrated.
She continued squeaking out breaths, small sparks coming from her gullet, barely strong enough to light even one tiny twig.
A loud squawk came from where the little dragon had flown from. The sound annoying the little thing as she continued to try and force out a puff of flame.
From across the water, another little dragon, so slightly bigger than the first, came flying towards where the two were. Stark yellow eyes widening with fear as he saw where the red dragon stood, with a warning roar he flew swiftly across the water skidding across the stone as he landed.
The red dragon, seeing the flames that glowed at the back of the green dragons throat, was quick to assure him that the girl was no threat.
He had not listened, continuing to roar for the girl to get away, to where he did not care.
The red dragon leapt forward, keeping Daenerys behind her as she feebly shielded her.
He was confused by her actions, she knew the danger men were, especially now for how small they were.
The green dragon crooned, gesturing for her to get away from Daenerys and return home, urgently.
She refused, instead returning to her task and attempting to set the twigs alight.
The green dragon glanced between the unmoving girl and the red dragon, wary of Daenerys. He would not have them spend a moment longer in her presence, moving forward and opening his mouth, a stream of flame poured from his mouth and ran up the wall beside Daenerys.
The heat that radiated from his flames stung Daenerys’s cold skin, pulling her from her blank daze. Heat had felt so foreign against her skin that had been cold for dangerously too long.
She gasped, scrambling away from the heat.
The action startled the two dragons, who squeaked in surprise before quickly flying away.
Daenerys stared at the two frowning, wondering when there had been two of them. Wisps of orange flame flickering up into the air caught her attention, its colour so stark against the blue of her surroundings.
Crawling over towards it, she groaned in relief as she felt the heat melt the cold that settled upon her skin. She sat hunched over the flame, fearing it would flicker away so soon.
Her tired eyes glanced up curiously to where the two dragons had gone. A flicker of gratitude warming her from within.
Looking back down to the small flames she frowned.
She had not deserved this warmth when a boy and girl were laying cold in their graves, to never feel their mothers and fathers warmth ever again.
Her nails dug into her palms, her lips twisted into a scowl as she recalled her vile crime.
Arising from the ground she moved to stand over the water, and began kicking it towards the flame, putting the fire out.
Dull growls sounded throughout the dark cave, but the sound belonged to no dragon.
Daenerys beat her fist against her stomach, fighting the wince that tugged on her lips “quiet,” she commanded, dismissing her stomach's pleas.
She soon realised the days that had passed with her in that cave. The beaming light of the sun disappearing from the water informed her that night had fallen once again.
With a sharp bone from the long put out fire, she carved into the wall she had curled up against a line, marking each day that would pass.
So far it has been two.
She had expected herself to have been driven to madness already, to have been alone in the dark so long, but she found that wallowing in her own self loathing was fairly distracting.
She would spend the hours scolding and punishing herself. Sitting in the water until she could feel the cold gnaw at her skin again, sitting on her legs until they would go numb, and digging her chipped nails into the lobe of her ear until it would bleed.
There was another thing that kept her from falling to madness, the short visits the two dragons would pay her.
Sometimes it was one of them, curiously staring at her from afar. Sometimes it was two, the green dragon only ever came to urge the other to come back.
It was difficult to ignore them, the sullen Daenerys was still a child, just as curious of them as they were of her.
Whenever they would visit she would look at them from the corner of her eye, bewildered by their interest in her.
The red dragon narrowed her eyes the first time she saw the put out flames, moving to set it alight again. Flying down from the perch she sat on with the green dragon, who squaked warningly.
The she-dragon landed by where the water had met the stone, frowning as she saw the wet wood. Looking at Daenerys with dismay as she drew closer.
The little dragon squealed as she was tugged back by her tail, the green dragon trying to drag her away forcefully.
Daenerys frowned at the action, tsking as she leaned towards them, scolding the green dragon “Keligon bona, zaldritsos!” stop that, little dragon!
The green dragon jumped back in surprise, while the red dragon scurried forward, curling against Daenerys's hip, squeaking out a roar at the green dragon.
He huffed through his snout before calling out for her to return with him.
The little dragon refused, and instead pushed herself closer to Daenerys.
Daenerys was awestruck, the feeling of her warm scales and wip of a tale on her side sparked a childlike amazement within her. Her shaking hand cautiously hovering above the dragon, wanting to drag the back of her fingers gently against the little things back, a show of gentleness, of trust.
But just as swiftly as she had moved it, she recoiled her hand in disgust, not of the dragon, but herself. How could she touch something so innocent with her bloodstained hands? She would not taint the little thing with her sin.
The green dragon watched the action from afar, tilting his head as he watched her recoil her hand, wondering if it were out of fear, but it could not have possibly been, for she let the little dragon remain curled against her side rather than scramble away fearfully.
He was wary as he left looking over his wing as he turned his back to her before swiftly flying across the water, not followed by the she dragon.
The she dragon squirmed as she tried to settle beside the bewildered Daenerys, who had not realised how she had melted against the little dragon's warm skin.
Slowly she moved to rest her back against the wall, with her legs stretched ahead of her. A less awkward position so the dragon could lay comfortably.
The little dragon crooned happily as she nuzzled itself against her, resting her head on the ground as she tiredly stared ahead, unafraid of the girl she laid beside.
The little dragon had not left Danys side. As she drifted off to sleep for the night, Daenerys noticed how much the little dragon had moved in her sleep, eventually resting her head over Daenerys’s leg.
Daenerys had remained awake throughout the night, not plagued by thoughts of her abhorring actions. Instead she was occupied in preventing herself from stirring about and disturbing the little dragon's slumber.
Her eyes skimmed over the dragon's body, she was the size of a cat, a crown of ivory horns that had yet to grow adorned her head. The bumps trailing up the back of her neck, surrounded by a golden pattern that spread from her spine and reached down to her spaded tail. Her wings were a red that turned into a fleshy pink at the webbing, a small hole marring her left wing.
She was beautiful, a beauty that would never see the world.
Daenerys frowned in sorrow, the poor thing had not deserved to be trapped here, forever barred from seeing the light of day.
A soft roar echoed within the cave, awaking the little dragon and alarming Daenerys.
It was the green dragon and in his claws, a sheep's leg, its blood staining the water the dragon flew over.
The red dragon squealed in excitement, arising from beside Daenerys and waddling over towards where the wary green dragon had landed, eying Daenerys before turning his attention towards the unharmed red dragon.
Daenerys glanced from the two and towards the leg, it was torn and clawed off of something bigger, mayhaps the rest of the carcass wherever it may have been. Her eyes widened as she realised, they could not have found a sheep wandering within this desolate cave.
There was a way out.
They were not trapped here, and how relieved she was to know that.
The two dragons fought over the leg, battling over who would get the fleshiest bit of it.
The red dragon was too small so she only took a mouthful, whining as she saw the abundance that was left for the green dragon who may have been less than twice her size.
A smug gurgle rumbled from the green dragon's chest as he stared at his frustrated friend before returning to gorge upon the abundance that was accidentally left for him.
A small smile of amusement curled at Daenerys’s dry lips as she watched the two, squirming as she felt her stomach rumble, a plea for her to yet again ignore. Even though she had been salivating as she watched them gorge on the raw and still wooled meat.
She pulled her legs against her chest, hugging them tightly, so that they would suffocate the sound of her stomachs begging.
But the sound had not missed the sharp ears of the observant green dragon, who flinched, thinking it was another dragon that had omitted the rumbling sound.
He tilted his head as he watched Daenerys, bewildered by the sounds that she had continued to omit without opening her mouth.
Her eyes flitted up from the meat and met the dragon's bright hazel eyes. Her own eyes widening, for she swore she could have seen concern in his gaze.
She gave the dragon an assuring smile, “Ipradagon byka mēre,” eat little one, she told, nodding towards the slab of meat.
The green dragon looked between the meat at his feet, and the starved girl before him. He glanced towards the red dragon, who was again struggling to puff out a bit of flame. She was unharmed, not a scratch or wound on her small body aside from the hole in her wing. Daenerys was no threat, he supposed she deserved a reward for that.
He lowered his head down towards the leg, reluctant as he tore a big chunk of meat from the leg. Huffing as he stepped over the leg and cautiously made his way towards Daenerys.
As harmless as she may have seemed, if she were to make one sudden wrong move, he would not hesitate in bathing her in a wave of flame.
Daenerys frowned in confusion as she watched him approach her, eyes widening as she saw him drop a piece of meat a few steps away from her.
She had not made a move to take it, making the green dragon think her daft, so he nudged the meat towards her, gesturing for her to take it.
She knew she was to take it but she refused, she would continue this punishment till she withers and frails if need be. A mercy, she had thought, compared to the cruelty she had inflicted upon those children.
The dragon glanced down at the bloody meat in front of him, frustrated by her not taking it, but he soon realised he had never seen a human eat raw meat.
Huffing at her kind's pretentiousness, he heaved in a deep breath before bathing the meat in a quick burst of flame, before shaking his head and stepping back towards his meal.
Daenerys was shocked by the action, by this generosity. Her eyes followed the dragon as he retreated, seemingly shy beneath her gaze.
Her gaze fell towards the cooked piece of meat, by no means was it perfect, it was charred from the top and wreaked of dragon breath. But gods, did her stomach care less.
Not granting her mind a moment to consider even denying such a generous offer, she quickly scrambled towards the piece of meat and grasped it in her hands, not caring how hot it was against the skin of her palms as she gorged at it.
Had her septa seen her now, she would have called her a dog. Mayhaps solitude served her well at this moment.
Two long weeks had already passed since she had disappeared into the cave. The silence and boredom had given her much time for her to clearly think of something time consuming to do.
She would spend hours floating in the water that had begun to move in soft waves, staring up at the ceiling as she listened to the white noise beneath the water's surface. Her blue and torn overdress left to stay dry on the moist stone where she had spent so long sitting.
The two dragons would watch her as she floated, amazed by her buoyancy. The red dragon dipping her snout curiously into the water only to jump back at the cold.
The green dragon kept the ground warm, charring it with his flames before resting upon it. It was rare for him to stay so long, having to leave upon hearing the mere sound of a low growl coming from deep within the cave but as the days passed he had spent more time with the other two, no longer seeming so eager to leave. Only leaving to fetch some food for the two late in the evening
He was a marvel of elegance. His hazel yellow eyes were stark against his skin of iridescent deep green. An orange pattern lining the length of his spiked spine, four not yet fully grown twisting ivory horns protruded from the crown of his head and his wings were of a faded orange hue.
She was thankful for their presence, it was because of them that she had not succumbed to the madness of loneliness.
Her tongue had become so used to speaking with them, or more suitably, commanding them to seize their bickering.
They had reminded her so much of Jace and Luke, the strong nature of her brother Jace shining from the green dragon, while the gentle, almost timid nature of Luke seemed to glow from the red dragon. How she had missed them. She would find herself hoping that when she would look at either side of her that one of her brothers would be there, but it was cruel of her to hope that they had been trapped down there with her.
She tried to will their faces from the darkness behind her closed eyes, as though darkness had not surrounded her, but all she could muster of them was a blur.
A loud clap of thunder boomed throughout the cave, startling Daenerys.
As her head dropped beneath the water she quickly moved to swim upright, eyes frantically searching her surroundings to find the source of that bone shaking sound.
It came again, its crackling voice carried throughout the cave system and into the cavern she was in, sending ripples through the water as it passed by.
Daenerys screamed in fear as the sound came again, rushing to the wall she would always lay against, pushing herself against it, trying by some miracle to push herself through to the other side of it.
The dragons were as startled as she was, squeaking out feeble roars as they searched for the threat.
The sound of the angry storm stirring outside seeped into the many small crevices that littered the cave she was trapped in. The tides crashing against the walls that overlooked the sea, the waters current pushing inside and giving movement to the once forever still water, the crevices catching the tides droplets and guiding it quickly the cave,
Daenerys pointlessly covered her ears, hoping to block out the frightening sound. The thunderous echoes blanketed whatever thought she had in her mind, they were so loud she could not hear her own visceral whimpers that came from the back of her throat, nor could she hear her red dragon calling out to her worriedly.
The red dragon had lowered her head in distress, flinching everytime the sound of thunder would come running past from every direction. She looked up at the balled up and shaking Daenerys, whining out to her, hoping that she would understand what was happening, but she would not answer.
The red dragon whimpered, squeaking as she heard another crackle of lightning. She crawled and hid away in Daenerys’s lap.
The green dragon kept a close eye on his surroundings as he moved towards Daenerys, crawling up her arm and curling around her neck, cocooning her and the red dragon with his wings.
From deep within the cave the sound of a loud worried roar fought to echo over the thunder, but it was too quiet to be heard over the lightning's rumbling booms.
The water had not brightened in quite some time since the storm echoed in the cave. Daenerys had begun to lose count of how many days had passed since she was trapped in the cave. Her eyes seemed to be permanently blown wide in fear as she waited in agonsing anticipation of another clap of thunder to resound, she had been left ill at ease since the first time it had happened.
She ran a shaking hand as gently as she could over the trembling red dragons back, her soft crooning served to soothe Daenerys in return. She had not left her side since that night, not caring how many times the green dragon had kindly urged her to return with him to their nest.
The green dragon would often return whenever he would leave, it was rare for him to be gone too long, but everytime he had returned he would seem terribly on edge. Glancing behind him worriedly before looking at Daenerys.
He was curled at her feet with his tail twisted around her knee.
The red dragon was displeased by his comfort around Daenerys, knowing that only weeks ago he would have set Daenerys alight. She bit at his relaxed tail, peeling it away from Daenerys' knee.
He squawked as he jumped forward, whipping his tail about as he roared at the crooning dragon on Daenerys’s lap.
Daenerys frowned at the dragon laid on her lap, resting her hands at her sides as she laid back “Bona iksos daor sȳz,” that was not kind, she chided the whining dragon that missed her touch.
A noise akin to laughter came from the back of the green dragon's throat, prompting the irked red dragon to leap forward and squeak out a roar.
Daenerys always found it odd how difficult it was for the red dragon to roar. Mayhaps she was still growing out of being a hatchling, she always had an odd sway when she took flight.
The little dragons began to taunt and bite at one another “Gūrogon bisa!” Seize this, she told.
The two had not stopped, for they did not know that she had been addressing them.
She huffed as she realised how difficult this was going to be “Zaldrīzoti!” she shouted.
They seized their fighting, the green dragon peeling the red dragon off of him.
Daenerys sighed as she watched them huff and whine at her chiding “Shijetra issa kostilus, yn ao kostagon daor vīlībagon, ao issi raqirossa issi ao daor?” forgive me please, but you should not fight, you are friends are you not? The two continued to huff at Daenerys’s words “Issi ao lēkia se mandia?” are you brother and sister?
Her question earned her an answer close enough to a confirmation, for the two only growled at the other as they rested at either side of Daenerys.
Daenerys eyes stared at the darkness that surrounded them before asking “Skoro syt gaomagon ao daor henujagon bisa dīnagon?” why do you not leave this place? The question earned her an indifferent croak from the red dragon “Ao issi zaldrīzoti, ao sytilībagon dāez isse se jēdar,” you are dragons, you belong free in the sky, she told them as though they had not known.
The little dragon hid her face beneath her wing as she recalled her fearful encounter with the Cannibal, it was the only time she had left the cave, for she was deemed unready to go outside alone.
Daenerys recognised the action from the first time she had met the little thing, her hands scooping the little dragon in her arms as though she were a babe “Gaomagon daor sagon zūgagon, se uēpa dyni jāhor kostagon daor ōdrikagon ao…” Do not be afraid, the old beast cannot hurt you, she assured before a frown lined her forehead.
She had not a clue what to call the two, aside from dragon of course, and even that was a difficult means to address one of them if the both of them were there.
“Skorkydoso qopsa bisa jāhor sagon lo umbagon mijegon brōzāt,” how difficult this will be if you remain without names, Daenerys said.
The two looked up at her, confused by what she had meant.
Daenerys was hesitant as she asked the two “Kostagon nyke brōzi ao?”
Might I name you.
Such an intimate thing to do, once a Targaryens egg had hatched or had laid claim to a dragon, they had the freedom of granting it a name of their choosing.
Daenerys had dreamed of that moment for so long, for the day her dragon egg would hatch and reveal to her a dragon to call her own.
She did not feel this was that moment, even though the two dragons did not seem against the request. The red dragon was the first to encourage her with a soft croak.
Daenerys had not realised how her face glowed with excitement, looking over to the green dragon who did not seem to object to her request.
She had only ever had one name for a dragon in mind, and it belonged to the one she would one day claim for herself. So she had begun to ponder two new ones for the little dragons that surrounded her.
But the skill seemed to slip her mind for she would come up with nothing she was satisfied with.
A soft croon had interrupted her deliberating, glancing down to her lap her eyes met with the big blue eyes of the red dragon wrapped around her arm as she rested on her lap.
Daenerys felt her heart melt at the credulousness within those eyes, she was grateful to have been there to save the little thing, and she was thankful she had not met her moments prior.
“Raeva,” she spoke suddenly, enjoying how the name had tasted on her tongue as she spoke it, asking the dragon “Gaomagon ao raqagon ziry?” Do you like it?
The little dragon nuzzled her head into Daenerys’s arm.
She chuckled at the action “Olvi syri… Raeva.”
A quick croak caught her attention, glancing to her right she looked at the green dragon, who had acted distracted. Giggling, she scratched the back of his head, an action that had startled him at first before he had begun to arch against her touch. Daenerys jokingly suggested to the smart dragon “Nyke pendagon Kenjaegon iksos nykeā sȳz brōzi syt ao,” I think Kenjaegon suits you best.
The green dragon's eyes flew open, croaking in disagreement, annoyed by the name. He stared at her awaiting a better suggestion, and it better had been good or else he would have taken off.
She chuckled at his childishness “Skorkydoso bē Naebor?” How about Naebor?
The little dragon pondered the name, concluding that it would suffice before returning to rest beside Daenerys.
A soft smile tugged on her lips as she looked at the two “Raeva se Naebor…” she muttered before resting her head against the wall.
As the weeks past the storm had not, continuing to cruelly keep Daenerys from a sound sleep. Raeva and Naebor had been kind enough to keep her warm, blanketing her with their wings, for they saw that setting a pile of woods alight was pointless, for Daenerys had always managed to find a way to put it out.
She was surprised by how long she had been able to stay alive, for as dehydrated as she was, Naebor had made sure to keep her well fed, screaming at her until she reluctantly ate the meat he had brought for the day.
Time had made Daenerys gaunt and sickly, no matter how much she had brushed her hair, locks of it had begun to mat. Her tongue had begun to forget how to speak the common words, for who else could she speak the language to other than herself. She far enjoyed speaking high Valyrian to Raeva and Naebor.
Her mother would have been proud to see how well she had perfected her mother tongue, practically adopting the accent as her own. Her brothers would have sought her out to teach them rather than have to bear the boredom of having the Maester teach them.
She hummed in delight as she imagined how their eyes would widen with wonder if she had the chance to tell them about Raeva and Naebor. Mayhaps she could even introduce the two to her brothers. But even if she could leave this dreary place, why would the two dragonlings even bother following her, would they not simply part ways, never to see the other again?
She would rather die than have that be true, they had grown dear to her and she had hoped that they had held a similar sentiment of her. She did not wish to live through the dejection of being cast away by her dearest friends again, she would not bear to feel such dejection again.
She wondered how they were, if they had paid any mind or were even aware of her absence, had her mother already spread the news? Or was she thankful to be forever spared the headache her daughter had given her.
Daenerys shook away such thoughts, impossible, her mother loved her, her father had told her that she nearly set the keep alight when Daenerys was only missing for a day, what could weeks of Daenerys’s absence have done to Rhaenyra.
She shivered at the thought.
She wondered how her mother would feel if she were to ever find her, how quickly would her relief be stomped out if she were to hear what her sweet daughter had done, the blood that had so soon stained her hands.
Would she forsake her, would she wish that she had stayed gone?
She only did it to protect herself, she would not have done it otherwise.
The water grazing the side of her face caused her to flinch and sit upright. She grimaced in confusion as she saw how far the water had risen, taking up half of the small amount of land Daenerys could settle upon.
The sound of flapping wings alerted her, it was Naebor, returning earlier than usual, but without a leg of meat in his claws.
He did not land before Daenerys, instead he continued to fly over the water as he urged her to grant him her attention. He gestured behind him, squawking for her to follow.
Raeva seemed to understand, moving away from Daenerys and taking off behind Naebor.
Daenerys remained confused, glancing over towards Naebor, who gave her a nod of assurance.
Standing up she looked down at her worn overdress, it had taken so long for it to dry. Taking it off she left it on the ground furthest away from the water.
She gulped as she looked down at the water, she had only floated in it, too scared to swim across it and get lost. Bunching the skirt of her greyed night gown in her hands she stepped into the water, grimacing as its cold stung her skin.
So quickly she had begun to shudder as she submerged her entire body into the water, looking up at Naebor angrily “Bisa sȳrkta sagon syt nykeā sȳz drīve,” this better be for a good reason, she warned.
The often swift Naebor was kind enough to fly slowly as he waited for her to follow him, knowing that he did not need to be that far for her to lose sight of him within the cave.
He guided her to their nest, a mess of bones, twigs and dragon dung. She was averse to none of that, for she was too eager to get out of the waters burning cold. Her arms wrapping around herself as she stood awkwardly in their nest, frowning as she felt the water pushing at her feet.
Naebor squawked for her to follow him, leading her towards a small but big enough crevice in the wall.
She knelt down in front of the hole, looking through it. Her heart fluttered as she saw it, the glow of the outside, a place she had spent too long away from. A shuddered sigh left her lips as she felt the warm comforting embrace of relief, of hope.
It was a steep climb towards the blinding glow, but it was not a difficult one for her to make.
Naebor and Raeva frantically urged her to go through, to get out, to leave, to finally be free. Had she a tail, Naebor would have dragged her by it through the tunnel.
Looking about the walls of the tunnel, she searched for a point of leverage. Wiping her hands onto the dry stone that framed the tunnel before gripping a round stone within it and pulling herself through.
She moved with desperation, for as much as she thought she deserved naught but death for her doings, there was still a part of her strong enough to take hold and tell her to survive, to live.
The glow began to fade, revealing to her a silhouette she had not seen in a long time, as its edges sharpened she knew it to be Dragonstone, the castle she had long abhorred.
This very moment it looked like the fortress of the heavens, emerging from the stormy clouds.
A lopsided grin was plastered on her face as she continued to climb, the encouraging sounds of Raeva and Naebor’s roars fueling her. She set aside her exhaustion as she felt her muscle begin to burn, knowing she could rest all she wished once she had made it outside.
As she stared up at the heavens again, she frowned for a shadow seemed to eclipse them. A low growl rumbled from its chest as its bright red eyes stared back at her, narrowing with rage at her trespass. Its locked jaw came open dropping the sheeps carcass its feets before crawling its way into the cave, its size seemed to fill the tunnel, and its darkness smited any light that tried to seep through.
Daenerys saw nothing for a moment, she could only hear a rumbling breath and the frantic cries of Naebor and Raeva behind her.
Suddenly, the cave was illuminated red, as fire channelled through from the shadows gullet.
Daenerys let go of the stone she had been holding onto and slid down the bumpy tunnel, the fire searing off the hairs on her face.
She tumbled out of the tunnel, stopping at the shore. Raeva rushed to her side, croaking in worry.
Naebor turned to look towards the tunnel, ready to voice reason, but he was not even granted the chance as the shadow came rushing through, its roars a rasp as it swiftly creeped towards Daenerys, wisps of bright red flame flowing from the corners of its mouth, eager to lash at her flesh.
Daenerys’s eyes were wide with fear as she saw it, illuminated by the red flames and blue glow of the water behind her. A pitch black beast with eyes a bright blood red, the web of its wings a dark shade of crimson and head adorned with a crown of sharp horns that protruded from its face, two curling up from the corners of its jaw.
It was twice the width of Naebor and its wings were not even spread.
She scrambled back and into the water, diving deep into its depths, narrowly missing the flames that chased after her. She stayed beneath the water for as long as she knew she could, swimming towards where she thought was her haven.
Her tightly sealed lips fell agape, her scream deafened in the water as she felt sharp teeth dig into her leg. Turning to look behind her she was horrified to see that the shadow had followed her into the water, never had she heard of a dragon capable of doing such a thing.
It did not taunt her as it kept its jaws locked tightly around her leg, it maintained a steely look of determination, a determination she had only ever seen in her mothers eyes.
Water had begun to fill her lungs and terror began to weigh on her heart as she saw the blood that clouded the water from her foot.
She pointlessly kicked at the dragon, trying to pry it away, but it would not let go.
Its eyes were locked at her neck, it knew how easy this would have been had its teeth been clamped around her neck.
Her tears disappeared into the water as she fought to survive, incapable of swimming up to the surface with him keeping her down by her wounded foot.
Suddenly its jaw fell open, its pained roar muffled by the water.
Daenerys was swift to take her chance and swam up to the surface, nearly choking on the air she desperately tried to breathe in. Ahead of her, she saw her saviours, Naebor and Raeva biting at the shadows' tail, both unafraid of what it could do to them.
Turning around she rushed to swim back to shore, her blood trailing behind her as it clouded the water.
She could not find relief as she reached the shore. Still trembling with fear and the high of adrenaline, in disbelief of what had occurred.
She did not dare lift her leg up from the bloody water, too scared to see what had become of it, but she could not continue to let it bleed. Glancing over her shoulder she was relieved to find the cloth that she had used to hold her fathers dagger. Stretching across the wet ground, she pulled it by the tips of her fingers, and sat back up.
With shaky breaths, she slowly lifted her leg from the water. A shuddered whimper left her lips as she felt the cold ache that rushed up her leg.
The dragon's sharp teeth had dug deep into her leg, marring the flesh with bruises and bite marks but sparing the bone. The bleeding had not seized, continuing to ooze from the many holes that littered her leg.
She sobbed as she saw the blood coat her leg, she needed a hand, something to hold, or something to hold her. She wished that her mother was her, to hold her in her arms and whisper to her words of encouragement while the Maester expertly tended to her.
But there was no one.
Her teeth dug into her lower lip, muffling her groans as she wrapped the cloth around her leg. She knew she needed it to stop bleeding, but beyond that, she had not a clue on how to mend this horrific injury.
Her arms went rigid as her hands held either end of the cloth, knowing what she must do, but too terrified to go forth with it.
Daenerys was a child, she had not the stomach for this.
But child or not, it was what she had to do.
With a sharp tug, she tightened the cloth around her leg.
Her screams, stronger than any roar or boom of thunder were for the first time in the weeks she had spent in that cave, the only thing to echo within the cave.
Summary: Rhaenyra’s outburst had pushed away her eldest daughter, sending her off to wander, an action Daenerys has always claimed she was smart at doing. A curious thought lingered in everyone’s mind at her committal, what stupid thing must she have done that would leave her dead?
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Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Daenerys Velaryon (Strong! Oc)
Aemond had left the hall seeing that his mother had left a while ago, seemingly distraught, his brother after downing all the wine he could pass through his gullet and entertaining every lord's assumptions was dragged back to his chambers, at his Grandsires command he would venture. And his sister, she had vanished, scurrying off to her chambers mere moments after the committal.
He had heard all of the guesses the nobles had made as they wondered what had become of her. Each one seeming more terrible than the last, but none was worse than the one that Aegon endlessly entertained.
He had said that she had longed to have a dragon and in her attempts to claim one, she was spurned.
Aemond refused to believe such a thing to be true, she was more Valyrian than her brothers and even they had -by some miracle- claimed dragons of their own. And he knows Daenerys, he recalls who she was at least, she was not stupid, she had warned him before of the danger of attempting to claim a dragon such as Vhagar, or any dragon for that matter.
‘No dragon is worth a life.’
He closed his eye as he heard her voice, still remembering their last exchange, the last words she had kindly spoken to him, the last time he had felt the warm embrace of her kindness.
Why did it have to be her?
He stopped in his tracks as he heard the frantic and distressed whispers coming from his sister's room.
He looked inside through the small crack, gasping as he saw her sat beneath the window sill, rocking back and forth as she held her head in her hands. Her fingers digging into her skull.
Aemond burst inside his voice gentle as he called out for his sister “Helaena?”
“This cannot be, this cannot be true,” she muttered, her eyes agape as she stared ahead of herself in terror.
He followed her gaze but saw nothing but an empty floor before him. He again moved closer his hands in front of him as though approaching a frightened animal “Helaena, sister, what is wrong?” he asked, as he slowly knelt beside her.
“The Darkness called, the tides have roared…” she trailed off, shaking her head as she whined out “where is she? How can this be?” she asked no one in particular, her kind and soft face ailed by fear “she can’t be gone, the branch… the branch of red.”
His brows knitted together, realising who she was talking about in between her ramblings.
He moved to rest his hand on her arm but she flinched away “this can’t be, This can’t be!” she wailed, the often melodic sound of her voice torn apart by her sobs and cries.
He pursed his lips, ignoring the stray tear that passed through the jagged scar across his cheek “Helaena… I’m sorry.”
“She will rise thrice more, she will rise and break away, she must, she has to, she needs to,” she muttered quickly, trying to deny what had happened only hours ago.
“Aemond?”
He looked over his shoulder, seeing his uncommonly dishevelled mother, wet patches staining her cheeks, likely the tears she could not wipe away. Her hair a mess down her shoulders, her hands tucked beneath her sleeves as she clasped them in front of her, the once shining star on her chest now seemed dull.
Alicent looked from him to the crying Helaena, her heart breaking all over again beneath the pressure of guilt.
“I tried… I tried to comfort her,” he told his mother, looking over her form worriedly “mother? Are you well?”
“I could not find rest, but I am well now,” she explained with a tight smile on her dry lips, not meeting her red eyes “Get your rest Aemond, I shall look after Helaena.”
Helaena shuddered, curling into herself further as she continued to mumble.
Aemond was reluctant to obey his mother, wanting to stay in case either of them needed him, but he would not disobey.
He gave her a nod, placing a quick kiss to Helaenas forehead and another upon his mothers as he walked her way before leaving for his chambers.
As he locked the door, he thought he would enjoy it, the silence, the sounds of the heavy rain hitting the stone outside. But he could only feel her absence, even greater than ever before.
He had long realised he was fool to think that he could ever forget her. He had missed her, he had missed her so terribly, he should have never had to lose her to gain his dragon. It is because of them that he had lost her that night, and now, forever. He still remembers his excitement afterwards, how eager he was to show her that he had done it, that he had succeeded, and she could as well. Instead, those fools had to make a fuss over the trivial matter and forced her to choose.
He refused to weep, and instead he basked in his loathing for them, streams of tears slipping down his hot cheeks.
Two months ago…
Daenerys stepped out onto the familiar stoney field again, it had been a long time since she had been there. The sky was a hue of reds and purples as the sun began to peer up from beneath the horizon. Fiddling with the hilt of her fathers dagger strapped to her side clumsily with a piece of fabric, On a pleasant day she would have hopped about the chasms of steam, but today her heart was stricken with a dull sorrow and stinging betrayal.
Her mothers words rang uncomfortably within her mind, how hateful her voice had sounded towards father, how angry she was with Daenerys’s sorrow for him.
Daenerys could not control how long this grief had lasted, and how could she? Laenor was her beloved father, no amount of time was enough to grieve him correctly. It had been months but what had happened to him was still so clear in her mind.
Her hands clenched tightly around the dagger as she recalled his screams, halting in her tracks as she shivered in this humid atmosphere.
It had been months and she had yet to move on, why should she just because everyone else had?
‘Mourn all you wish but this grief will not slow me down.’
Daenerys huffed kicking a small stone in her path before lifting the blue skirt of her dress to climb the wall of boulders before her.
What had she expected? Daenerys did not know how to grieve, she did not know how long it should last, but she knew that a few months was not enough.
She slid down the hill of boulders, wincing as she felt the stones dig into her skin.
She supposed slowness was not something to be proud of, slowness leaves one vulnerable, slowness leaves one weak. She frowned as she recalled how slow she was to see the truth behind Aemonds guise, how blind she was to his cruelty, her slowness and foolishness led to her dear brothers and beloved cousins getting hurt. Her slowness had allowed for her fathers murderer to get away.
Her face began to redden with anger and shame, her stubbornness fighting against admitting the truth, that her mother was right.
She gripped the daggers handle tightly, reminding herself there was no excuse to spit on someone's memory.
She lifted her saddened gaze up from the ground, stilling in her tracks as she saw three familiar figures sat behind a boulder that overlooked the dragon caves ahead.
It was Ellis, Baldwin and Alwyn, who were oddly paying no mind to the caves. Ellis glanced over her shoulder and noticed Daenerys standing afar, her lips curled upwards excitedly, rising from the ground catching the boy's attention.
Ellis waved at her “AY! YOU!”
Daenerys tensed as she saw them, it had been a long while since she had last encountered them, she was surprised they still remembered her. She slyly hid her dagger in between the layers of cloth wrapped around her hips, pulling short strands of hair in front of her face, hoping that her dress was dirty enough for them not to suspect anything.
She was surprised by the happy look on Ellis’s face, whose face was often sour. Ellis ushered her towards the overlook “the dragons haven’t come out yet, wait with us!” she invited.
Daenerys pondered the offer, but supposed there was nothing wrong with it, a nice distraction would serve her well, she had missed seeing the free dragons take to the sky without a care to bind them to the world.
She leaned against the rock, missing how the boys seemed to lean down, trying to catch a better glance of her shrouded face.
Mouse shook away his curiosity, his voice unsure and nervous as he asked her “what’s brought you here?”
Daenerys shrugged in answer, trying to buy herself some time to come up with an acceptable answer.
Ellis laid down closely beside her “you’ve been missing quite a while.”
“I was busy, I couldn’t come around,” she answered, trying to seem indifferent to their questions as she stared at the dark caves.
“Doing what?” Mouse continued to pry.
Ellis smirked, gesturing for him to stop “That don’t matter, we’re all here for the dragons, not each other’s business aren’t we…” she grimaced as she searched her mind for a name she had yet to be given “Nameless are you?”
Daenerys quickly answered “Rys.”
Ellis fell silent, seemingly annoyed, a chilling look flashing across her face as she mouthed a quiet ‘are you?’ her eyes skimming over what she could see of Daenerys’s face, but they lingered a moment too long on her shrouded eyes “let’s wait.”
Daenerys slightly frowned at her expression before looking back towards the caves.
Ellis gestured for Mouse to lay down beside her, while Baldwin went to lay closely beside Daenerys, who squirmed at the proximity but would not complain.
“Where’s Lory? And Bertie?” she asked.
Ellis shrugged, a pointed look on her face as she leaned her cheek against her hand, paying no mind to the caves but at the side of Daenerys’s face as she spat “too scared to come.”
Daenerys could feel Ellis’s hot breath brushing her cheek, bowing her head further down as she stared up at the caves from beneath her lashes “they seem to be taking a while,” she pointed out, trying to cut through this unnerving silence.
“Lets busy ourselves while we wait shall we?” Ellis asked, a forced note of jovialness laced within her voice “Us girls, I ‘eard much gossip these past few moons.”
Daenerys’s brows shot up “Gossip?”
Ellis's playfulness seemed to fall away, seemingly outraged. “Gossip is not a privilege that only belongs to them highborns.”
Daenerys turned to look at her, frantically denying “I never said it did.”
Ellis upper lip twitched before turning to look back at the cave again.
Daenerys’s eyes lingered on Ellis’s face, alarmed by the frustration, the anger, and the excitement that wrinkled her freckled face. Warily following her gaze and turning her attention back towards the caves
“Anyhow, let me go on, so… a merchant came from Driftmark months ago, told us of the son of the sea snake's murder, a terrible tragedy,” she told the girl who had already long known about this. A happiness seemed to whelm Ellis as she spoke that news.
‘Serves you well, the gods were bound to make you pay for taking what was mine,’ Ellis thought to herself, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lip.
Daenerys squirmed at the mention, not catching the satisfied smirk sweeping Ellis’s face. Her hand resting upon the bump where her fathers dagger was, stroking it comfortingly, an apology to her father for staying silent.
Mouse chimed in “i ‘eard he had his throat slashed at the festival!”
Baldwin argued loudly from beside Daenerys, shouting in her ear “stupid who ever told ya that,” he chided before giving his own account of events “The father struck him down, I heard he was a man of despicable nature.”
Ellis observed Daenerys again, to her dismay Daenerys had begun to exact restraint upon herself “You know… I heard, he was attacked within the walls of his own home.”
Daenerys tensed as she felt Baldwin press up against her side, grimacing at the smell of his breath.
“That he was forced into a fire,” she told “and when he was found he looked like a burnt pig.”
“How terrible it must have been for his family, to find him like that,” Mouse credulously pointed out, watching Ellis’s every move intently.
“Indeed… can only imagine… his daughter musta been devastated,” Ellis agreed, not a note of sympathy in her voice.
Daenerys froze at the mention.
“Daughter?” Baldwin scoffed, staring giddily at the frightened expression that began to grow on Daenerys’s face “I ‘eard she looked nothin like em, might be a distant relative,'' he laughed “a worlds distance.”
They all laughed while Daenerys remained quiet, tears beginning to swell within her eyes. Her shaking hand rested upon the handle of her fathers dagger, her lips twisting in shame, she could do nothing but listen to them insult him.
Ellis gestured for them to be quiet, inching closer towards Daenerys, her hot breath burning the flustered skin of Daenerys’s cheek “poor girl… I wish you had visited…” Daenerys refused to look her way “I would have given my condolence, and my shoulder for your pretty purple eyes to cry on…”
Daenerys’s eyes went wide, quickly moving to step away from them all, but she was too slow.
Ellis’s hand wrapped around her locks of hair, her grip tight around the strands. She tugged her head back revealing to them all the treasure Daenerys so desperately tried to keep hidden “Daenerys!”
Daenerys squealed in shock of the action, feeling Baldwin's hands tightly grasp her shoulder and arm as she began to thrash, trying to twist away from Ellis’s tight grasp.
Unbeknownst to her, in the midst of her frantic struggle, her hand had grasped the handle of her dagger and pulled it from its makeshift sheath, pushing its sharp blade across the nape of Baldwin's neck and cheek.
The brutish boy choked on a cry of pain, throwing her to the ground behind him as he reached to clasp at his neck, blood spurting from between his clasped fingers.
Daenerys looked on in horror, his blood splattered across her face and bleeding into her blue dress. She had not realised it was she that had done this, even though the blood was still warm against the cold steel of the dagger in her hand. Scraping her white knuckles against the scratchy ground as she scrambled back.
Alwyn cried out in horror as he saw his brother trying to catch the spurts of blood beginning to shoot out from in between his fingers “BALDWIN!”
Ellis was in disbelief of the sight, she looked away from Baldwin and towards the startled Daenerys.
Her anger boiled beneath her skin as her vision went red “YOU BASTARD!”
She tackled Daenerys to the ground, straddling her hips as she tried to keep her down, trapping Daenerys’s armed hand beneath her knee “MOUSE, GET OVER HERE! HELP ME!” her left hand curled tightly around Daenerys’s neck.
Alwyn was too busy trying to help his brother, cutting off a strip of cloth from his shirt and holding it to the pale boy's lacerated neck. He was petrified into silence, too focused on stopping the bleeding to notice his brother's eyes beginning to blankly stare up at the red sky, succumbing to the calmness that began to wrap snugly around him.
Daenerys’s free hand clawed at the one gripping her neck, fighting to pull it away, whimpering as she saw the wild look in the girl's eyes.
Ellis was mad with rage, nobles had cost her the life of her father and now they have taken the life of her friend.
She had grown sick of Daenerys’s feeble struggling, muttering to herself as she tried to keep her restrained “I’ve waited for this too long- GAH! STOP FIGHTING!” striking her across the face with a her balled fist.
The panicked Daenerys screamed in pain, fighting the daze as she began using her legs, feebly trying to pull them out from beneath Ellis.
She did not know what to do first, wasting her energy doing everything she could to get away. Her throat went raw as she cried out for help, whimpering and sobbing as Ellis began slamming her against the ground.
Dark spots began to grow across her vision, frightened when she began to lose sight of Ellis and what she was going to do next. She kept thrashing and clawing, doing everything she could to bore this predator and be set free, but Ellis had long had a hunger that had yet to be sated.
She winced as she felt her muscles begin to burn at every movement, she found herself struggling to battle with the exhaustion that began to settle upon her limbs, Her right hand going numb beneath Ellis’s knee.
Daenerys shook her head pleading to the girl above her “Please let me go, Please!” she tried to wriggle away only to be pulled back by the frustrated Ellis.
Ellis slammed her down one more time, needing her body to go limp, but her mind awake. She wanted Daenerys awake for everything she was about to do, reaching behind her as she patted her side, blindly searching for something, for she was too busy relishing in the terror within the poor girl's eyes.
Daenerys’s squinting eyes tried to see what she was reaching for. Whimpering as she saw the glinting flash of a knife.
Her hand tightened around her fathers dagger, desperately screaming “GET OFF!” As both of her knees beat against Ellis’s back. Ellis grunted as she was pushed forward, her knee sliding off Daenerys’s hand as she moved to try and pin down her legs “ALWYN!” she frustratedly cried out to him, frowning as she saw him try to haul his limp brother towards the village.
Daenerys was still trapped in the fear that shrouded her furiously beating heart but her mind had recognised her heart's efforts and was swift in its decision. She pulled her right arm from the ground and reared it up behind her before lodging her dagger into Ellis’s shoulder.
Ellis cried out, falling back, startled by the weapon protruding from her shoulder.
Daenerys heaved in a deep breath as she regained her freedom, crawling back away as she watched on in disbelief of her own actions as Ellis tried to drag out the knife painlessly, mumbling curses.
Her gaze flitted over towards the crying Alwyn, clutching his brother to his chest as he tried to drag him away, her eyes meeting Baldwins empty ones. Sniffling as she shook her head, thinking to herself that she could not have done this. Even though the coppery taste of his blood touching her tongue as she wiped her face with the back of her hand said otherwise.
She scrambled to her feet and ran the opposite direction, to her terrible misfortune, her feet had guided her towards the dragon caves.
Ellis dragged the knife out of her shoulder, a loud groan of frustration and annoyance passing her thin lips as her teeth shined bare out into the world, like a wolf flashing its teeth menacingly, a promise to its prey.
The sobbing Alwyn had failed to realise that his brother had already passed on, hooking his arms beneath Baldwins limp ones, attempting to drag him back “Ellis help me!” he cried out.
Ellis was staring at Daenerys as she ran, her breaths laboured with her hot anger, her hand tightly wrapped around the new dagger in her hand.
“Let ‘er go! She's dead anyway!” he told, pointing to the dragon caves Daenerys ran into.
Ellis did not see the danger, she only saw opportunity, she could trap Daenerys inside and have her way. A chance to have her wishes finally come to fruition were enough for her to chase after Daenerys into the dark caves “GET BACK HERE CRAVEN! FACE YOUR DOING! PAY FOR IT! PAY FOR WHAT YOU’VE TAKEN, WHAT YOU’VE DONE, BASTARD! DAENERYS!”
Daenerys flinched as she heard her roars echo out, nearly tripping over her own feet. Her eyes searching the illuminated walls, hoping that there would be somewhere to hide, to wait this out. She could not possibly go further in, for she knew such an action would not end well for her.
Her mind was so clouded by the will to survive, that she had not bothered to observe the insides of the caves. Had she been able to stop and truly take it all in, she would have noticed the scratch marks on the cave's ceiling, and how the stones that protruded from the ground, looked oddly similar to bones.
“BASTARD!” Ellis’s voice boomed into the cave again.
Daenerys began to choke loudly on the sobs that hit the back of her throat ‘shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!’ she told herself ‘This is all your fault, why did you leave, why did you go?’
Daenerys forced that thought away, she had not the time to think of culpability she needed to survive.
‘All because of a fight over a father that’s not even yours, Bastard.’
She could hear a hundred voices speak those words, none of them her own, had she focused just enough she could make out who each of them had belonged to.
She thought it was the dizziness beginning to catch up with her, the fuelling fear slowly seeping away, no longer numbing the pulsing ache radiating from the back of her head.
Her eyes went wide as she entered a large cavernous area within the cave system, looking up at the various holes above, bright streams of the sun's warm morning light seeping through them. A dark mound covered jagged rocks and moss deep within its centre.
She winced as she felt the rough texture of the ground, frowning at the warmth that seeped through her ruined flats. As she stepped forward she tensed upon hearing something crack beneath her foot.
Looking down her eyes went agape, bones old and new were scattered across the ground, all of various shapes and sizes. They had not belonged to animals, nor had she imagined them belonging to humans, no… they looked far too similar to the dragon diagrams and skulls she had seen within the red keep.
These were dragon bones. As her eyes followed the trail of them she saw how they surrounded the dark mound at the centre, shuddering as she saw it rumble and shake.
She was in the cannibals home, welcoming herself into his territory.
Echos of shouts began to dance about the cavernous area, irking the sleeping dragon making him stir and groan in his sleep.
She had imagined him to be so much bigger but he seemed so frail, she supposed it was difficult to sate a hunger of such unique appetite.
She moved closely about the walls, eyes plastered to the ground as she minded her step, a new burst of fear beginning to course within her.
“BASTARD! COME! OUT! CEASE YOUR HIDING, THERE’S NO CASTLE TO KEEP YOU SAFE! FACE ME!”
Daenerys snapped to glance towards the tunnel she had come in from before looking at the stirring Cannibal, his snout dancing about as a familiar scent passed through its canals.
Daenerys began to move swiftly ‘don’t slow down, do not dare slow down.’
She stepped about the bones, accidentally kicking some as she moved towards another tunnel.
“DAENERYS! WHAT ARE YOU WITHOUT YOUR GUARDS, CRAVEN?!”
Her voice grew louder, for she had grown much closer.
The Cannibal had enough of this, groaning as he arose, dust and rock crumbling down from the ceiling as the foundations of the cave shook beneath his feet as he rested them on the ground. His green eyes were bright against his dark as coal skin, his mouth fell agape as he yawned revealing an array of yellowing and old teeth. He attempted to shake away the itching moss that had attached itself to his old skin, the shrivelled skin of his gullet swaying side to side as he moved.
Daenerys’s lips parted in disbelief of the sight before her.
The familiar fresh coppery scent of blood reached the cannibals senses, stilling its movements as he scanned his surroundings.
Daenerys knelt down behind a dragon's skull, whimpering fearfully as she heard his grumbles.
She slid down against the skull, realising how terrible a predicament she was in, which was all the fault of her foolishness again.
Mayhaps she could wait, mayhaps she could wait and flee when the right chance had offered itself. She had the patience to wait.
Soft, squeaking croaks caught her attention, interrupting her as she planned for a means of survival. The soft sound came from her left, crawling over to that side she peered to see the source, her eyes widening with worry as she saw a baby dragon, its small pink wing trapped beneath a cage of ribs.
It had curled into itself, hiding its small face as it whined beneath its free wing, awaiting its terrible fate.
Daenerys rested back behind the skull, closing her eyes as she heard him stir again, his wings encompassing the ceiling, covering the sources of light filtering through.
As the light within the cavern dimmed a stupid thought began to brew within Daenerys’s mind, for all she could hear now were the fearful whines of the poor dragon.
The sound had not escaped the Cannibals ears, his eyes darted about his surroundings as he searched, salivating as he waited for his hunger to finally be sated.
The cave was now dim enough, and Daenerys was sure he would not be able to see her. Despite every reasonable bit of her being telling her not to, she bolted from the ground towards the small dragon, falling to her knees beside it.
The dragon lifted its wing up from its head, a croak of surprise coming from the back of its throat as it jumped back, trying its best to squeak out a roar at Daenerys as she moved to lift the array of ribs from its wing.
She hushed the little beast, quietly pleading for it to be quiet as she tried to help.
It frantically tried to pull itself away from her, whining in embarrassment as it saw how pointless it's roars were.
She groaned, finally managing to lift and push away the bones from its wings.
The little dragon was surprised by the action, flapping its now freed but injured wing in the air before looking up at her curiously, Its ocean blue eyes meeting her lilac ones.
She tilted her head at the little dragon, her brows shooting up in surprise as it reflected her action.
The little dragon was soon overwhelmed by terror, her ocean blue eyes going wide as she glanced up at the shadow behind Daenerys before scurrying away into the small cave behind it, one not big enough for the cannibal to follow.
Daenerys gasped as she saw a shadow begin to grow from a figure above her, streams of light returning to the cavernous chamber. Slowly turning around to face the old beast behind her.
Her mouth fell ajar as she looked up, greeted by the sharp scowl that danced along the Cannibals mouth.
He was furious with her, she had entered his home, disturbed his slumber, and sent his meal scurrying away.
Daenerys gulped as she stared up at him, shrinking beneath his glowing green gaze cutting through its shadowed form. The light behind him frames him like a god of death, judging the worth of his victim.
As she heard him growl and huff at her a warning plume of smoke came through his snout she lifted her hand up “Lykiri Zaldrīzes!” she tried to assure.
The cannibal tilted his head at her, recognising those words, but seemingly enraged upon hearing them.
“Lykiri…” she repeated again in a shuddered mutter as she took cautious steps back as she saw his head rise above her
From the corners of his mouth, wisps of his green flame of legend danced about, an action he had assumed Daenerys would not have noticed… but she had.
She rushed back, quickly sliding into the small steep cave the little dragon had gone into, narrowly missing the flames that licked at the stone and passed through the tunnel.
As she slid down into its depths, she shielded her face as shards of sand and gravel scratched against her skin, tearing apart the heavy skirt of her dress.
The Cannibal roared out, trying all he could to shove his massive head into the small hole, biting and clawing at it. His actions did not serve to aid him but instead they had caused a cave in, large rocks coming down within the cave.
He grunted and growled, furious by the ease of their evading him. His attention was quickly again for a whiff of blood and lots of it hit his snout, the smell was faint before but now, it was so much stronger.
As he turned to find the source of the strong scent his eyes narrowed as he saw a girl holding to her chest a dagger as she looked up at the beast, gone was the fury in her eyes and instead all that existed was fear.
The ancient beast saw no child before him, he only saw a meal, big enough to sate him for the time being. As she bolted the opposite direction, rushing to leave the cave, both he and his flames were hot on her tracks.
Daenerys, whose eyes were screwed shut as she slid further down into the caves, waited for a sharp impact, only for the ground to disappear from beneath her as she fell down. As her eyes came open in shock, she gasped as she saw pools of glowing water.
She choked on the water that slipped past her lips, Her legs flailing, quickly moving to swim to the surface. Heaving in a deep breath as she looked at her surroundings.
The sound of crumbling alerted her and she glanced above her, her eyes widening as the glow of the water illuminated the approaching rocks.
She swam across the pool as swiftly as she could, panting as she narrowly avoided the downpour of stones. A wave arose from the disturbance to the normally calm waters, pushing Daenerys across the pool and upon solid stone.
She winced as the raw skin of her cheek scratched against the rough stone, shuddering as the cold latched onto her wet skin. She was spent, she had not even the strength to pull her legs out from the cold water.
She battled sleep's fuzzy embrace as her eyes began to flutter shut, for her mind still buzzed with a thousand thoughts.
Sleep had assured that she would not feel the dull pain pulsing from her muscles and the red marks blooming upon the skin of her cheek and neck, and no doubt her back as well. Sleep assured her that she would need not worry about the thoughts gnawing away at the edges of her mind, it’s distant voice urging her to succumb to a deserved rest.
