Saviour of Dragon’s | CHAPTER TWELVE
Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist
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This had to be some cruel joke, a jape by the gods letting you know that try as you might, normalcy was not something you would achieve in this lifetime.
“I-I don’t know what came over me, I suppose I heard the egg hatching from the hall…” You trailed off when a small purr came from below you, the pearlescent dragon which got you into this mess curling softly into the crook of your neck. When Rhaenyra had seen you she ordered for you to be taken to her bedchambers, Daemon already awake and pacing before you walked in.
“Seven hells, Y/n, put the damn thing down!” Daemon shouted, and out of reflex you obeyed, setting the creature on the floor. The dragonling was not inclined to accept, hooking its small claws onto your nightgown and half flying, half scaling your body to be back in your arms.
“I-I can’t — ” You stumbled over your words, petting over the rough scales of the dragon. It stunk up the chambers, the smell of fire and brimstone making you dizzy. When Rhaenyra reentered she was with a dragonkeeper, her hair slightly askew and hand protectively over her bump. That’s what led you to now, explaining to your father and good-mother how you got into this predicament in the first place.
“Then it is a good thing you did, Y/n. Aegon and Viserys could have been injured, you have done well.” Rhaenyra calmed you down, still wary of getting too close to you with the hatchling in your arms.
“I do not know why it will not leave my hold.” You whimpered, watching the dragonkeeper approach, thick materials gloving his hands and arms. You pried the small creature's wings off of you, attempting to hand it to the dragonkeeper. It whined, before its hackles raised and golden flames shot out at the dragonkeeper. The keeper hissed, withdrawing his hands although they were covered.
“Henujagon ziry.” Leave it. Daemon commanded, the dragonkeeper retreating to the edge of the room.
“There is something…wrong with me.” You breathed, looking between Daemon and Rhaenyra.
“There is nothing wrong with you, sweet girl. You have fire in your veins, perhaps stronger than any of us, these beasts know it well.” Rhaenyra said, cautiously approaching. Daemon grabbed her arm softly, shaking his head, but Rhaenyra took herself out of his grasp.
“This world has not seen one like you since the days of Old Valyria. We must protect your bond with them, for just as Jacaerys is the future of the House Targaryen you, Y/n, are the future of our dragon’s.” Rhaenyra finally reached you, her hand gentle on your damp cheeks.
“Let us return you to your chambers, the hatchling may sleep with you tonight, hm?” She nodded, and you slowly nodded with her, both of you walking in silence back to your room. You sweat in your sleep that night, you know you did because your bedding was damp when you awoke and the incessant heat of the pearl dragonling still clung to your skin like a sheet. It was curled into your side, purring peacefully while you expertly removed yourself from your bed without disturbing it. You got yourself ready alone that day, tying your hair up and soaking for a long while before putting on a simple day dress of purple silk. You secured a satchel across your body, putting a few Old Valyrian tomes in it. You had taken the tomes months ago from the dusty library on Dragonstone but you hadn’t had the time to read them properly, and you supposed being attached at the hip to a hatchling was the perfect moment. You scooped the dragon into your arms cautiously, leaving your room with the calmed dragon perched on your shoulder. The servants you passed avoided eye contact all the way up until you were outside, in the grassy fields just below the Dragonmont whistling for your three dragons to make themselves known. Their familiar chirps broke the silence, all three floating down with chuffs of joy at your presence.
“Hello my beauties.” You hummed, eager to meet them. Morghul reared back when she saw the dragonling on your shoulder, curious eyes narrowed.
“Rāpirī, Morghul. Issa iā raqiros.” Be calm, Morghul. She is a friend. You swayed, brushing a hand over her snout. You had confirmed the hatchling was a she-dragon after consulting your Valyrian texts, realizing that she possessed the female anatomy. You had also found a fitting name for her in that time, one which you were sure her future rider would not mind.
“Zirȳla brōzi iksis Nūmio, issa naejot sagon aōha mandia.” Her name is Pearl, she is to be your sister. You took Nūmio off of your shoulder and threw her up in the air, catching all three of your dragons' attention. She yelped, circling above you for a few moments before Rhaelys joined her, nimble wings taking her to the clear skies. You watched them dance together, amethyst scales and opalescent wings swimming the clouds in tandem. Soon Morghul and Veraxes followed, leaving you to rest in the grass below as they chased each other's tails through rays of sun. You took out the tomes, flipping through faded pages until one caught your eye.
“The harnessing of blood…” You breathed, fingers grazing over the ancient words which practically read themselves to you. As you continued to turn page after page you came to a horrifically wonderful realization. Here, within these forgotten books, were perfectly preserved capsules of Old Valyrian magic. Blood magic, fire magic — everything. You looked through the second tome, and when you skimmed to the end of the book you saw something curious, a signature hidden within the last page’s corner.
‘Learn well, sister of dragon’s. You are the second saviour — Daenys Targaryen.’
You read it perhaps a dozen more times. How…?
This was not possible, if you remembered correctly Daenys Targaryen died generations before Aegon the Conqueror, she was — oh. Oh. Daenys the Dreamer, predictor of the Doom, the saviour of House Targaryen. You looked into the sky, searching the pale heavens for any sign from the Gods that you were losing your senses before your eyes returned to the page and the message was still there. Had Daenys predicted you were to be here all those years ago? Then you remembered your dream, the one you had during your early months at Dragonstone, but the woman in your dream couldn't have been Daenys. You cursed, wishing that this world had photographs instead of unreliable paintings.
“Y/n!” You turned at your name, seeing Rhaena descending from the direction of Dragonstone. You closed the books, putting them back in your satchel and getting up to greet your half-sister.
“Is it true?” She breathed, her smile bright and eyes alight with curiosity.
“Is what true?” You played coy.
“Seven hells Y/n, you know what!” She shoved you, though there was no real strength behind it. You gestured to the sky, Rhaena’s eyes lifting to watch as Nūmio pierced through a veil of clouds being chased by Veraxes before they disappeared again.
“Is it bonded with you?” She asked.
“I don’t know, I don’t believe so. I’d like to think she knows her true rider is still in the womb.” You chuckled and Rhaena grabbed your hands, squeezing them within her own.
“This is a good omen, sister. First you bond with three dragons and now you have hatched one!” She squealed, and you were amazed at how she could be so pleased by your good fortune when she had none of her own.
“I suppose it is, though might I say it was an accident.” You insisted.
“Whatever caused it you have a way with them, we can all see it. Come, Jace and Luke are waiting for us.” She began to walk and you picked up your skirts to join her.
“Why?” You inquired, walking slightly faster so that Nūmio might not notice your absence.
“For lunch, ‘tis nearly past noon!” She laughed, silver locs blowing elegantly behind her.
“I had not realized I had been gone for so long.” You mumbled, only now aware of the hunger which gnawed at the back of your mind.
“Of course you hadn’t, you had them to keep you company. Anyone would forget about lunch.” Rhaena said. You looked down at your satchel, the weight of the tomes heavy on your hip and in your mind as you entered Rhaena’s chambers for lunch.
“Oh look, the Dragoness finally blesses us with her presence.” Jacaerys teased, leaning back in his chair. You rolled your eyes, taking a seat and picking up a slice of cheese from the spread on the table.
“You vecome, mm-Prish.” You bowed, words muffled through cheese.
“It is true.” Rhaena announced, and Lucerys laughed in disbelief.
“I cannot believe you, Y/n.” Lucerys shook his head.
“Neither can I most days, I am an amazement for all including myself.” You japed, sitting down.
“Four dragons to your name and still you refuse to allow the realm to know.” Jacaerys scoffed, leaning towards you from across the table. You took the tea Rhaena had poured for you, taking a sip before you responded.
“They will find out one day, ‘tis better to have the element of surprise. Besides, don’t you want to be there to see the look on the court's faces when they realize that the dragons follow me?” You suggested, imagining the way the reigning Queen might pale and her sons may faint.
“You have a good point. I would delight in our Uncle Aemond’s envy.” Lucerys snickered before his arm was slapped gently by Rhaena.
“He is already envious enough that he lost an eye for it. Do not imagine to provoke the poor man.” Rhaena sighed but Jacaerys laughed.
“Provoke? He is provoked every time he wakes from sleep.” He chuckled and you couldn't help but allow a rush of air from your nose. It was times like this you wished Baela was still here, she would bask in the thought of your cousin losing his temper because of anything. After lunch you sequestered yourself in your chambers, reading the tomes from front to back and collecting a few things in front of your fireplace while doing so.
“Okay, let's see if Old Valyria was onto something.” You mumbled, setting out one of the tomes open beside you. You kneeled in front of the lit fireplace with what you could only describe as ingredients at your knees. A handful of your three dragons scales, the multi-colour collection shimmering in the light of the fire, a cauldron, a small sharp piece of Valyrian steel, a goblet, and your tome full of Valyrian incantations. The cauldron was boiling water, and when it bubbled to your liking you placed the scales in it, saying a few words in High Valyrian as you did so. You grabbed the piece of steel, taking a few deep breaths before you cut a rune into your palm, hissing as you squeezed your own blood into the pot and watched it swirl into the murky waters, turning the liquid into a deep crimson the longer you held your hand above it. You repeated the Valyrian phrases, opening your palm slowly before you let out a gasp. The rune on your hand was glowing red, not reflecting your blood in the light of the fire but glowing. You took the cauldron off the heat, pouring the liquid into the goblet you had prepared. You watched as the previously loose liquid came out thick, the syrupy mixture filling the goblet to the brim. You had no idea how it became like that, you were sure there was more water than blood when you began but you decided not to question it, you just saw your hand glow after all.
“Ñelly hen zaldrīzes. Ānogar hen morghūlilare. Ñelly hen morghūlilare. Ānogar hen zaldrīzes. Letagon zirȳ se mazverdagon zirȳ mēre, maghagon perzys se kustikāne naejot ñuha prūmia. Tepagon bisa naejot nyke, ñuha āeksio Arrax. Isse aōha brōzi, nyke dīnagon ñuha vējes isse aōha ondos.” Flesh of the Dragon. Blood of the Mortal. Flesh of the Mortal. Blood of the Dragon. Bind them and make them one, bring fire and strength to my heart. Give this to me, my lord Arrax. In your name, I place my fate in your hands. You declared before drinking from the goblet, the viscous drink tasting of iron and fire as it surprisingly did not burn your throat. You hummed as the warmth hit your belly, seeming to spread throughout your entire body from toes to fingers, lungs wrenching in a deep breath. A hot breath.
“Dracarys.” You breathed, holding out your hands to the fire. You felt a tingling in your lungs which shot through your arms and to your fingers and then out of your fingers. Molten flames burst from your palms, adding to the fire with a vigour you’ve only seen from Morghul’s open maw. You would have screamed if a knight wasn't posted outside of your chambers. You had done it. You had practiced Ancient Valyrian magic and succeeded.
It was true, you decided when the flames receded, you would not achieve normalcy in this life. You were destined for greater things.
Far greater.
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