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Rating:
Explicit
Archive Warning:
Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Categories:
F/MMulti
Fandoms:
Game of Thrones (TV)House of the Dragon (TV)A Song of Ice and Fire & Related FandomsA Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Relationships:
Arya Stark & Daemon TargaryenArya Stark/ ?Arya Stark/Daemon TargaryenArya Stark/Aemond "One-Eye" TargaryenAegon II Targaryen/Arya StarkArya Stark & Laena VelaryonDaemon Targaryen/Rhaenyra TargaryenAemond "One-Eye" Targaryen & Arya StarkAegon II Targaryen & Arya Stark
Characters:
Arya StarkDrogon | Daenerys Targaryen's DragonDaemon TargaryenAemond "One-Eye" TargaryenAegon II TargaryenLaena Velaryon (Daughter of Corlys)Baela TargaryenRhaena Targaryen (Daughter of Daemon)Rhaenys Targaryen VelaryonRhaenyra Targaryen
Additional Tags:
Arya Stark-centricTime TravelAlternate Universe - Canon DivergenceBAMF Arya StarkCanon-Typical ViolenceWarg Arya StarkTime Travel Fix-ItFamily DynamicsDragon Rider Arya StarkAegon II Targaryen is Not a RapistThreesome - F/M/MDigital Art
Language:
English
Stats:
Published:2024-09-01Updated:2026-06-17Words:520,544Chapters:90/?Comments:1,601Kudos:2,362Bookmarks:446Hits:94,300
A Song Told Through Time
wicked17writer
Chapter 2: Daemon, part 1
Summary:
Daemon POV
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Chapter 2
~Daemon, part 1~
"There are reports of a dragon rider in Braavos." Daemon told his wife as they broke their fast together.
"Who?" She asked as she passed him the dish of butter.
"That's the thing, they say the rider is not Targaryen." This was chief amongst the reasons he'd found the Braavosi dragon rider concerning. He wanted to investigate the claims in person, but they had just confirmed that Laena was pregnant again and so he hoped the intrigue of the matter would lead to an easy agreement regarding his departure.
"They say the dragon is Balerion reborn and his rider a mad child," He paused to lick at a smudge of butter on his thumb, "A girl of no more than three and ten."
"A bastard?" Laena purposed with raised eyebrows. He made a noise of agreement as he bit into a warm scone. That was exactly what he was thinking, but that didn't explain the dragon. He knew all the known dragons in existence. And the one described was not only an anomaly, but an impossibility.
"The dragon is described as being larger than Caraxes but smaller than Vhagar." His wife smirked at that and a wry smile pulled at his own lips. The difference in size between their two dragons was in itself amusing but also it left the actual estimated size of this new dragon unhelpfully undefined. It was akin to describing a hill as being bigger than a pebble but smaller than a mountain. All that could be determined for certain was that, supposedly, this new dragon was not a hatching. Which, would really be the only explanation to make sense, and thus the intrigue.
"They say its scales are as black as night, slashed with streaks of vivid blood red. That its scarlet red wings, horns, and red as coals eyes make it look like a demon." His wife gave a little chuckle.
"That's quite a description."
He gave her one of his rakish smiles. "Interesting, yes?"
"Mmm." She agreed with a nod as she took a bite of her egg. Once finished chewing she asked, "And what do they say of the rider? A young girl you said?"
He paused to take a drink, and think of how he wanted to phrase his next words. "They say she just arrived on dragon back one day, no saddle mind you. Apparently, she claimed she was just looking for work."
"Work?" Laena repeated. He nodded in confirmation.
"The mad girl is said to have joined a mummer's troupe," He paused enjoying the way Laena's eye widened. "And she's worked her dragon into the show."
"What!?" Laena exclaimed with a laugh and instantly he was filled with contempt. To him the idea was not laughable, but infuriating. Insulting even. His wife continued with a chuckle, "Wha-she's got her dragon preforming tricks for amusement?"
Daemon frowned; he'd been expecting more distain as he himself felt at this news. Dragons were not for the purpose of spectacle. To make a fool of one was to make a fool of them all, and that would not stand. He told his wife plainly, "I would like to meet this girl and her dragon."
The light of laughter died in his wife's eyes, her hand dropping to her still flat stomach. "You wish to go to Braavos?"
"Today." He informed her coldly.
"Today!" His wife repeated shrilly. Then she said his name in that chastising tone he so hated, like he was an audacious little boy and Laena, fifteen years his junior, his scolding mother. "Daemon."
Her condemnation had the opposite effect and strengthened his resolve. "I won't be gone longer than a moon at most, likely less."
He met Laena's glare with determination. Afterall, he was not asking for permission.
.
.
.
It took him less than a week to fly from Pentos to Braavos on dragon back. Taking care to land with Caraxes far outside the city to avoid detection, he was both pleased and annoyed to learn he'd arrived just in time for Braavos's famous Unmasking celebration. The anniversary of the Uncloaking of Uthero which was celebrated every year in a ten-day festival revelry.
It seemed like fate as it was the perfect time to arrive unnoticed as people flooded the city from all over and wore masks until midnight on the tenth day of the celebration when the Titan of Braavos would roar and all celebrants and revelers would remove their masks as one.
It worked to his advantage to have time to move around without being recognized, to observe this girl without her knowing. However, the tradeoff was it was very crowded and in addition to the ever-oppressive heat, that only he and other Westerosi found offensive, it was not a comfortable stay.
Still, Braavos itself was lovely in its own way. As a merchant city-state famed for its canals it was the wealthiest and most powerful of the Free Cities, and thus he was able to find appropriate luxury accommodations which helped eased the frustration of rubbing elbows with the endless crowds of people.
With a black demon mask to hide his face and streams of people to move through he was certain he'd avoided detection from the unknown dragon rider, despite doing his best to shadow her undetected her for two days upon his arrival.
He now had a first-hand account of how apt the descriptor 'Mad' was for the young girl.
And a name, Arya.
He found the reports were true, this Arya girl did not have the Targaryen 'look', but she wasn't unattractive by any means. Nor was she a great beauty like his lady wife or Rhaenyra. Physically, he found her only moderately eye catching and for his tastes she was too small of frame. But she did possess a palpable wild nature that was appealing. And the bond between Mad girl and dragon was undeniable.
A bastard probably, but a true dragon rider, of that there was no doubt.
Upon arriving in the busy city, he'd thought it would be hard to locate the girl, a concern he quickly discovered was unfounded. For wherever the girl went, her dragon almost always followed.
The first time he'd spotted her she'd been atop her dragon flying away from the Drowned Town.
He soon learned through gossips in the market, that Arya had taken to delivering free firewood to the eldest part of the city. The Drowned Town. It was an area of town that had fallen into the lagoon and only the domes and towers of old buildings were visible above the surface. Apparently in the higher part of the half-submerged buildings some of the poorer people still lived and this Mad girl had ostensibly taken pity upon them. Regularly.
Seeing as no trees grew in Braavos except in the gardens of the extremely wealthy, firewood was very expensive as it had to be imported. Laments about the girl's soft heart and generous nature were overheard on every street where firewood was being sold for truly outrageous prices. As Arya's kindness hurt their profit margin, she was a constant topic of derision for these firewood swindlers.
He did not so much care about the loss of coin for a few greedy wood peddlers, it was the act of using a dragon as a packhorse which incensed him so. And to do so for free was just, bizarre.
The second time he saw her was later that same day. He came upon the scene near the waterfront of the Purple Harbor in the north of the city. And this time he engaged in a passing interaction as she all but held court with a group of children and young people.
Some adult milled about the edges of the group, mostly mother's holding babes in their arms, tired and looking relieved to have a moment's peace. He was surprised by the lack of other onlookers, he couldn't imagine that the girls 'dragon show' could have become old hat so quickly? Perhaps the lack of attendance was due to it being the middle of the day, when most others were working?
Despite knowing it would make him stand out, he stayed to watch, not even trying to disguise his interest.
Her dragon lazed in front of the Blue Lantern completely blocking the entrance to the fashionable mummer's playhouse. The girl stood in front of her dragon's stomach, at the center of her makeshift stage. The beasts' eyes were constantly surveying the non-threatening crowd as she spoke in a sickeningly cheerful voice, "Does everyone remember my dragon friend's name?"
"DROGON!" The young children shouted out eagerly.
"That's right!" The girl enthused, catering to her young audience. "Can you tell me how many eyes Drogon has?"
"TWO!"
She smiled approvingly, "Do you all remember how many feet Drogon has?"
A mix of two and four was shouted from the children. Arya put on a comically befuddled expression. "It sounds like we need to count again!"
A cheer rang out from the crowd as the girl turned to her dragon with an expectant expression. "Drogon, how many limbs do you have?"
It seemed to him that the dragon would have rolled his eyes if he could. But still he obeyed whatever scripted command the girl had taught him. Drogon shifted from his lounging position until he was stood up on his hind legs in front of the playhouse. With his wings fully outstretched the audience audibly awed at the sight. And what a sight it was.
Daemon was able to confirm now that the dragon was larger than his beloved Caraxes and possibly of size with his mother's former mount Meleys. He also catalogued a few scars from what looked liked spears in the dragon's flank and wings. It was utterly inconceivable that such a large and distinctive looking dragon, one that had perhaps seen battle, had gone so long unknown to him and the known world.
The girl continued with her insufferable play for the small-minded children.
"Let's count together, shall we?" She prompted with a saccharine grin as she pointed to the dragon's wing counting with the crowd, "One", Drogon obligingly wiggling the appendage to the delight of the squealing crowd. "Two" the girl continued as Drogon wiggled his other wing. "Three" he lifted up briefly shaking his left foot, "Four" he did the same for his right.
Daemon found the entire experience an obscene degradation.
"That's right four, Drogon had four limbs."
"BUT YOU SAID FEET!" A child shouted from the front row.
"Oh!" She overacted surprised, "I did, didn't I." She gave a little giggle and then bopped her head, "Silly me."
The children delighted in her false self-deprecation, "Well then, how many FEET does Drogon have?"
"TWO!" The crowd of children answered excitedly.
"And how many limbs all together?"
"FOUR!"
She gave a brainless grin as she ran over to her dragon's tail, pointing she asked, "What about this foot?"
"THAT'S HIS TAIL!" Various shouts of the same refrain erupted from the audience.
"Oh yeah," Arya lightly tapped her temple with her palm again, "Silly me!"
Pure joyful laughter bubbled out of the small children, chuckles from the older ones amused by Arya's overacting. As Drogon settled back into his earlier lazy pose the girl commanded the children to create a queue. To his horror she invited the children to pet the dragon. And to his pure shock Drogon allowed the contact with a look of boredom on his face.
After all the children had a chance to touch the dragon and were once again seated on the ground, the girl warned they were reaching the end of show. Again, she adopted the demeaning and falsely cheerful tone as she asked the crowd, "Does anyone know what Drogon likes to eat?"
Aghast at the entire scene and appalled that this slip of a girl had somehow turned what should be a noble creature into nothing more than a trained monkey, Daemon could not help himself. Before anyone could answer her patronizing question, he called out in a voice loud and clear, "Disrespectful children!"
Giggling broke out amongst the children in the crowd and perhaps a few gasps, but he only had eyes for the girl. She snorted a laugh and pointed in his general direction quipping, "Hey, that's my line."
Her response got a laugh out of her audience and he allowed a gratified smirk to pull at his lips. At least she wasn't as slow of mind as she appeared.
Arya turned back to the crowd saying, "A dragon eats whatever it wants, including but not limited to," she telegraphed a wink, "disrespectful children who don't help their parents with chores."
More laughter sounded, but he watched in fascination as something shifted in the girl that held this captive audience of small children in the palm of her hand.
Her demeanor lost its shiny façade. She stood a little straighter, her eyes a little colder as she continued in a more serious tone of voice, "He eats anyone who annoys me, anyone I ask him to."
She paused to stroke her dragon, giving her audience to adjust to the change in atmosphere. "Drogon is not a mindless monster. He does not kill for fun…nor do I."
She turned to look at her audience full on. Her arms clasped behind her back. "Your life is precious and you have the right to defend it." She paused, her eyes roving over the crowd perhaps to make sure they were listening and Daemon did the same, he was in awe of how the laughter had died and was replaced with rapt attention.
"If you have someone in your life who touches you in a way you do not want to be touched, who hurts you, or beats you…you can come find me and I will help you. If you cannot find me, and you have coin, you can go to the House of Black and White and they will help you."
Daemon straightened at that. He knew of the House of Black and White, everyone knew about the so called faceless men. Why the girl was promoting their services to a bunch of children was not only baffling but deeply concerning.
"I do these shows to remind you that the world is big and scary and beautiful and fun." The warmth bled back into her expression. "Remember children, no one has the right to hurt you without consequence. In this life or the next, everyone gets what they deserve." She turned to look up at Drogon's face at the same time he looked down at her, "Or at least they should."
The dragon curled its neck around the girl in a half hug, nuzzling its face into her stomach. She stroked its snout comfortingly before she seemed to shake off whatever momentary melancholy that had overcome her. Slipping back into her obnoxious performance persona she shot a mischief grin at the crowd, saying, "Anyway--"
Not bothering to finish the thought Arya climbed atop her dragon, once seated she called out, "DRACARYS!"
The crowd erupted in cheers and applause as the dragon shot out fire harmlessly over their heads. With a wave from the girl and a nod of the head from Drogon, Arya flew away leaving Daemon more curious about the 'Mad' dragon rider than before.
.
.
.
Author's note
I use reference photo's when writing, here are some of the one's I used for this chapter, in the future all reference photo's can be found at the end of the chapter
I am leaning more book visual when I picture Drogon in this story:
Notes:
Thanks for reading, I would love some feedback as this story is not fully mapped out.
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