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Published:2020-04-25Updated:2026-04-06Words:409,591Chapters:71/?Comments:5,535Kudos:6,014Bookmarks:1,655Hits:466,616
The Stormborn and the Stormbringer
SkilledWarriorKiwi
Chapter 2: The Undying King
Notes:
Ghidorah looks like his KoTM design so he can walk about on all fours instead of solely being bipedal like his traditional design
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The walk through the Red Waste was gruelling and Daenerys could feel her pale skin burn under the relentless sun.
Through it she kept the golden dragon balanced on her shoulder, his tiny claws digging into the leather. His twin tails were draped down her back, the barbed tips brushing against the exposed skin of the small of her back. He was heavy, which considering his current small size seemed out of proportion but she bore it without complaint.
Her fingers were bloodied, offering the dragon another piece of meat which he happily snapped up with his closest head. Then three little tongues licked over her skin until the blood was gone and the dragon settled down, draped across her shoulders like a scaly scarf. His middle head drooped down as if in sleep while the other two continued peering around curiously.
High above the falling star kept the blue sky painted with a streak of red. An omen, Irri had murmured to her, an omen of the dragon for the whole world to witness.
Her khalasar had been in awe when she'd stood, clothes burnt off and skin ashy but with a three headed dragon curled around her shoulders. The tiny wings had stretched out and his piercing shrieks had seemed to echo across the plains in a shrill chorus that made her shiver.
They had all bowed to her, even Ser Jorah, and to the golden dragon she'd brought into the world. They had put their faith in her, Daenerys Stormborn, and been repaid with witnessing the rebirth of dragons after nearly two centuries as she stepped from the pyre unscathed. There was barely thirty left for her khalasar but Daenerys was determined not to fail them. That she would keep her oath to protect them.
First though they needed to cross the Red Waste.
"Have you thought of a name yet, Khalessi?" Doreah asked, walking by her side.
Daenerys gave her handmaiden a brief look before gazing back to her dragon, at how his scales shimmered like coins in the sun. His heads yawned in sync before he crawled down her shoulder and she immediately held him like a mother would her infant. He was warm.
She thought of perhaps naming it after her three latest losses; her son Rhaego, her husband Drogo and even her brother Viserys. He had succumbed to the Targaryen madness but she could still remember when he hadn't been, when he'd been a true brother to her.
However as she cradled the golden dragon, watching him even as he watched her back with six glittering red eyes the size of pinheads, she had a strong, almost overwhelming idea of a name. Nothing to do with her past life. She had her lost loves and they would remain lost. Now it was her and her dragon, the two last of their kind. This name she had no idea why she thought of it and it seemed as if the word had been placed right in her mouth, bypassing her mind completely.
"Ghidorah," Daenerys announced, even as her khalasar came to a halt around her, "His name shall be Ghidorah."
Though they didn't have much time to consider it as her horse at the front of the convoy fell, collapsing in a heap on the ground. Quickly Daenerys turned to the packhorse next to her, untying the binds of the woven cage to quickly usher Ghidorah inside. The small creature trilled and shuffled in with a few awkward hops. Daenerys then hurried to the front to drop down to her knees next to the fallen mare, feeling her heart drop as Jorah caught her eye and shook his head. She knew that when horses fell like that they wouldn't rise again.
Still, she swallowed past the lump in her throat to stroke the horse's sweat soaked neck, "She was Drogo's first gift to me."
"I remember."
"I promised to protect them. Promised them their enemies would die screaming. How do I make starvation scream?" Daenerys got to her feet, knowing there was no hope for her silver and feeling frustration crawl through her.
Jorah joined her, expression sympathetic as he said, "A trick I never learned, I'm afraid."
She grimaced, squinting towards the horizon where all she could see was more of the sun-baked plains, "Does it ever end?"
"This is farther east than I've ever been. But, yes, Khaleesi, everything ends, even the Red Waste."
"Is there no other way?" it was more of a sigh. Her khalasar was determined but even she could see how they shuffled instead of walk, the ruthless weather bending even Dothraki to its whims.
"If we go south to the land of the Lhazareen, the Lamb Men will kill us and take your dragon. If we go west to the Dothraki Sea, the first khalasar we meet will kill us and take your dragon." Jorah said.
She whirled to face him, dirtied hair fanning out behind her as she snarled, "No one will take him from me."
As if hearing her angry words she heard a chorus of shrieks coming from the packhorse which started to snort nervously and toss its head. The nearest Dothraki stroked at its neck and murmured to the animal but she heard Ghidorah screech again. There was something about that noise that made her hair stand on end, as if she'd stepped through a pocket of cold air. The nervous looks from Doreah and Irri to Rakharo and Jorah showed that they shared that sentiment.
None shall touch Ghidorah. Daenerys vowed.
Stepping forward Jorah spoke lowly, "He is too weak to fight, as are your people. You must be their strength."
She inclined her head. This was another test. She had to prove she was strong enough to led, even in such conditions. They had put their trust in her and she must be sure to repay it by being worthy of their loyalty. For a long moment she stood there, thinking over potential plans of action. Her khalasar were exhausted and many without horses. She needed to do something.
She called for Rakharo, Kovarro and Aggo, her bloodriders. They come forward immediately.
"Take our remaining horses. You will ride east, you southeast, and you northeast," she said, looking at each in turn.
Rakharo dipped his head, "What do we seek, Khalessi?"
"Caravans and people. Rivers or lakes or the great salt sea. Find how far the Red Waste extends before us, and what lies on the other side." she said. They couldn't continue to travel as they were, especially blind at what lay at the end of the plains. For all they knew they could be walking right past a river.
Her bloodriders agreed, accepting her orders with dips of their heads before turning to the few horses they had. Daenerys took in a breath, trying to sooth the ragged flutter of her heart even as her lips remained cracked and dried. She wanted to slump down upon the ground but resisted the urge. She needed to be strong.
Once her bloodriders were saddled she couldn't help but catch Rakharo before he went on his quest, saying quietly to him, "Rakharo. You are my last hope, blood of my blood."
"I will not fail you, blood of my blood."
"You never have." she gave him a faint smile to which he returned before spurring off his horse in a clatter of hooves.
Daenerys watched her bloodriders until their forms vanished among the shimmering heat, feeling nervous and itchy. By then Ghidorah's calls rose back up and she fetched him from the woven cage even as her khalasar settled against the rocky outcrop to wait for the three riders to return. The golden dragon immediately clinging to her ragged clothes as his heads twined around her neck. She was a bit surprised at how affectionate the dragon was before reminding herself he was just a baby. And just like a human babe he craved his mother.
She also issued the command to cut up her silver for the meat. It hurt, to watch the first gift from Drogo be hacked up for lunch but she couldn't waste precious supplies upon sentimentality. Ghidorah ate as much as she gave him as she settled under the small lean-to her people set up against the rocks, Jorah by her side as she fed the dragon a handful of warm meat. Watching all three of his small heads rip and tear at the flesh fascinated her.
"Have you ever heard of a three headed dragon, Ser Jorah?" she asked softly, watching the three little forked tongues lick her hand clean of blood.
"None, Khalessi," Jorah said, resting next to her, "Not in any story from my travels across the world have I ever heard of such a creature. Not even a twin headed one. Snakes perhaps, even turtles. Showcases for fairs and the like. But not a dragon. Seems to be a sign, such as the comet. Three heads for the three heads of Targaryen."
Gently Daenerys scratched at the softer scales beneath Ghidorah's chin. It was interesting how his heads jockeyed for position, pushing each other aside to get scratched. The barbs on his tail flexed out like the claws of a cat.
"I know tales of ice dragons which apparently inhabit the Shivering Sea and the White Waste even if I never met one who saw one beyond sailor's stories," Jorah continued, "Of sea dragons or krakens. But unlike the Targaryen dragons they are more myths and tales than actual creatures."
"I am Daenerys of the House Targaryen," she said, staring intently at the golden dragon on her lap, "I am the first of my name. Just as Ghidorah is the first of his."
She kept Ghidorah in her lap, stroking down the soft scales along his back as he curled into a ball. Even tucked up she could see the translucent webbing of his wings, of the tiny veins threaded through the golden flesh.
Once he is grown I'll take back what is mine, she thought, feeling a shiver roll up her spine despite the heat, With fire and blood I will take it.
Ghidorah's middle head looked up at her, as if sensing her thoughts. The other two seemingly remained asleep and she wondered if his heads could think differently from one another. His eyes were red, glowing slightly with an unnatural light as the small creature looked at her. She tugged the dragon closer, his scales pressed against the exposed skin of her abdomen. He was her child now and she his mother. They were the last remains of the greatest House Westeros had ever seen. He was a three headed dragon and the draconic symbol for House Targaryen was three headed as well.
She had been born to rule the Seven Kingdoms and Ghidorah hatching for her proved that beyond a doubt. But she was his mother and she needed to protect him until he was big enough, strong enough, to aid her in her quest to reclaim her birthright.
"The Iron Throne is mine," she said softly, the tiny head watching her intently, "We shall take it just as the usurper took it from us."
For a long moment nothing happened before a little tongue flickered out of Ghidorah's mouth and Daenerys found herself smiling. For all she was told of the might of dragons she had no idea a hatchling would be so endearing.
She and the rest of her khalasar dozed in the heat, Daenerys nearly falling asleep with her golden dragon in her lap. Her lips felt parched and at Jorah's urging she sipped from the scant water they had left, even pouring some in her palm for Ghidorah to lap at. Then it was back to dozing in the sun.
"Khalessi."
The address barely seeped into her heat-soaked brain but Jorah getting to his feet in a rattle of armour stirred her fully. Following his gaze she could see a rider approaching, the shaggy mane horse of Rakharo's. Even from afar she could see how he was listing in the saddle and Daenerys scrambled to her feet. Ghidorah protested as she returned him to his cage but she could see blood on Rakharo and had to hurry.
Jorah barely managed to catch him before Rakharo hit the ground as he slumped from his horse. Daenerys was immediately at his side, Irri also hurrying over. She grimaced at the blood soaking Rakharo's back and shoulder where blades had sliced him. However he was coherent enough to try and greet her until she hushed him, telling him to save his strength.
"Do we have a healer here?" Daenerys asked, glancing around her khalasar, "Or anyone with some type of knowledge for tending wounds?"
Irri darted away, speaking in rapid Dothraki to the others grouped around them until a middle aged woman stepped forward. She was quite short, even smaller than Daenerys and Irri, with bushy auburn hair tied at the nape with nut-brown skin and large brown eyes. Her bare feet were caked in dust and sand and Daenerys could see the old scars of a collar marring her throat and wrists.
Speaking in Dothraki the woman said, "Khalessi, I have stitched many saddles, clothes and wounds better. I can help."
"What is your name?"
"Ishabi, Khalessi."
Daenerys stared at her before saying slowly, "You are one of the Lhazareen, are you not?"
Ishabi immediately went to her knees, "I swear to the Great Shepard and Stallion that I had no part in that witch's magic. I was taken in a raid many years before and was not one of that village."
She hesitated, knowing the last time she trusted someone she loved to a Lhazareen- it resulted in both her son and husband dying. However Rakharo was bleeding freely enough she knew she had to make a decision; if she did nothing then he would die regardless.
"No blood magic," she said, coldly and unyielding.
Ishabi immediately nodded, "I only need cloth, needle and thread Khalessi. I do not partake in such wicked arts."
"Get what you need from our supplies."
The woman got to her feet and hurried to the packhorses, some other members of the khalasar aiding her.
She spoke lowly to Irri, "Is what she said true?"
Her handmaiden nodded, "As much as I know- she has tended to many torn tents, saddles and throws. Dothraki will kill maegi if they find them among the slaves."
Daenerys spoke to Jorah then, "Keep close watch on her."
"Of course, Khaleesi."
Her paranoia seemed for naught however; Ishabi tended to Rakharo's wounds briskly and efficiently. A part of her balked at using their meagre water supplies to clean the wound but she knew it would fester otherwise so she granted Ishabi's request. The seamstress was hesitant, constantly asking Daenerys' permission to proceed with each and every step. Daenerys wandered if it had something to do with watching her kinsman being burned alive at the pyre. She pushed that away, keeping close watch as Ishabi laid Rakharo down and tended to his wounds. She even requested a small fire to boil some Dothraki alcohol they had to cleanse the needle before she started and flush the wounds clean of dirt and sand.
Rakharo was dizzy but he bore Ishabi's ministrations and pain without complaint as the rest of the khalasar watched. By the time Ishabi stitched the wounds shut and firmly bound the injuries with reasonably cleaned cloth Aggo had returned. He was empty handed but confirmed there was nothing for them in the direction he'd scouted. By then they'd known Rakharo had been attacked by a hostile khalasar so that direction was also not an option to them. Only pure luck and a strong horse saved Rakharo from falling for the Khal's sword.
"He shall heal in time but must rest," Ishabi declared, putting the bloodied bone needle away and smoothing down the cloth bandage before getting to her feet.
Jorah, who'd been within swords reach of Ishabi the whole time, stepped away with a short nod towards Daenerys even as Rakharo rolled his injured shoulder awkwardly with Irri still close by his side.
"You have pleased me, Ishabi," Daenerys said sincerely.
To her surprise the woman blushed, "You are my Khalessi now. I swore my life and service to you and your dragon. Freely."
Ah. Daenerys remembered when she announced that before Drogo's pyre, stating that she freed any slaves who remained. Many left but some stayed, they stayed and chose her. And those who stayed were rewarded with witnessing the birth of a dragon.
Her eyes briefly lingered on the woman's scarred wrists before Rakharo spoke, "Forgive me, Khalessi."
"Nonsense," she said sternly, "You did as ordered and now we are aware of a threat. There is nothing to forgive."
Rakharo looked like he was about to protest but Irri's glare stopped him. Either way neither of the two protested when he pulled the small knife from his back and, taking care not to jostle his injured arm, cut off his pony tail. Daenerys shut her eyes tiredly even as inwardly she reassured herself Rakharo would be able to prove himself in battle soon enough to grow his hair back out. Escaping a Khal and hostile khalasar was no easy feat but she knew better than to protest Rakharo's action.
Then Jorah's hand fell upon her shoulder, "Your last bloodrider approaches," the knight said.
Sucking in a breath Daenerys walked forward and was mostly resigned for bad news but blinked in confusion as Kovarro got close enough for her to know that he had swapped steed.
Kovarro grinned at her as he got close, horse tossing its mane and snorting.
"This isn't your horse." Daenerys said, stepping forward and looking over him carefully. No injuries and he was in obvious high spirits.
Dismounting Kovarro said, "It was given to me by the Thirteen. The Elders of Qarth."
"Qarth?"
"Three days to the east on the sea."
She felt a thrill of hope in her gut, asking tentatively, "Will they let us in?"
Kovarro pulled several full waterskins from the horse's back, saying, "They said they would be honoured to receive the Mother of Dragons."
Turning she spoke quietly to Jorah, "What do you know of this place?"
"Only that the desert around their walls is called the Garden of Bones. Every time the Qartheen shut their gates on a traveler the garden grows," Jorah said grimly.
Daenerys accepted one of the waterskins, nodding for Kovarro to hand out the supplies to the rest of the khalasar. She could also see more packs on the horse given to him. Irri cast her a worried look from where she was helping Rakharo to his feet but Daenerys already knew she only had one option left to her. They could not stay in the Red Waste and she couldn't risk waiting for another opportunity. They would die if she did that.
Squaring her shoulders Daenerys turned and issued orders for her people to pack up and prepare for their journey to Qarth.
"Dracarys."
Ghidorah stared at her.
"Dracarys."
The middle head wrinkled his snout even as the left and right started biting at the piece of meat, ignoring her commands. Quickly the two heads devoured the morsel while the middle continued staring at Daenerys, little crimson eyes glittering like jewels.
"Ah. A pity my ancestors never recorded their methods of dragon training," she lamented, leaning against the windowsill Ghidorah was perched on, "I'm unsure of how to start or even how old dragons are supposed to be before they can breathe fire."
Qarth was a beautiful city and Daenerys had been grateful to be given her own quarters and place to bath. Scrubbing the Red Waste filth from her skin left her feeling purified. She'd even take Ghidorah in with her, using a soft rag on the dragon until his scales shone like gold coins. He had been leery of the water so she remained in the bath while he perched on the lip as she washed him while Irri and Doreah scrubbed her down and cleansed her filthy hair before braiding it. Once cleaned she'd clad herself in a plain white dress left for her before taking Ghidorah to the window to try and teach him fire breathing. She knew Valyrian and was determined to teach her dragon commands in her mother tongue.
However she had no idea how to teach Ghidorah fire breathing. Perhaps she could get some flint?
The three day journey to Qarth had been grueling but none of her khalasar faltered. Bolstered by the supplied Kovarro brought they'd doggedly made their way east. When they'd arrived Qarth's stone walls towered over them and the gates had opened to let out nearly three dozen fully armoured guards. Daenerys had been sceptical at Jorah's comment about them being wary of a Dothraki horde- since her khalasar was mostly women, children and older warriors -but she bore it without complaint. Especially when the Thirteen introduced themselves.
They had been garbed in the finest silks and leathers and Daenerys had felt dirty and disgusting before them in her sand stained and torn clothing, despite Doreah's attempts to clean her up when they came within eyesight of Qarth's walls.
Her bloodriders had grouped behind her, ready to act but not yet drawn their weapons. Rakharo had insisted he could still fight, even with his healing shoulder. Daenerys had checked it at the end of their second day walk across the Red Waste and knew Ishabi had done well as the wound was already pinking. The additional supplies Kovarro had brought also aided Rakharo in regaining strength. Like most Dothraki Rakharo would fight well with both hands so she accepted his insistence of being fight worthy and she felt comforted with her three bloodriders and Jorah at her side.
Especially since the Spice King left her feeling like a fumbling child, her embarrassment only growing as she mispronounced the city's name. Days under the relentless sun had left her dry headed and exhausted but she tried to force herself through diplomacy. Difficult, as she'd gotten used to the Dothraki who were blunt and had no tolerance for a mincing of words so now trying to be subtle left her at a loss. Especially when they were going to reject her and Daenerys knew her people could not survive much longer, that if they were turned away her khalasar would die.
Fortunately one of the Thirteen, a man named Xaro Xhoan Daxos, took her under his responsibility. He even offered her private quarters in his estate, large enough for her small khalasar to also house in. She'd been grateful but wary though she wasn't foolish enough to think his curiosity about Ghidorah wasn't behind it. After all there was none left living who'd seen a dragon before her child.
Though she hadn't missed the fact they'd called her the 'mother of dragons'. It was fascinating that news traveled so quickly but she had one child, even if he had multiple heads. Still, she needed to be cooperative in the most part. At least until she could find someone who'd aid her in her quest to reclaim the Iron Throne. So for now she agreed to Xaro's terms and his generosity.
She also checked on her people before tending to her needs, though most were unused to the grandeur of the building they were in. Many of the fortified cities in Essos simply bribed the Dothraki to leave them alone and it worked for the most part. Her khalasar were grateful for the rest along with freely given food and water, and she checked with Rakharo but was reassured he was well on the way to recovery and could fight at a moments notice. Only then did she leave for her own private quarters at the top of the building, Irri and Doreah by her side while Jorah overlooked the khalasar for her.
There she'd bathed before taking Ghidorah from his cage to try and teach him fire breathing. It didn't exactly work and Ghidorah happily ate his meat raw.
Doreah tried to offer a hand to Ghidorah once he was finished but the dragon snarled and snapped at her, tiny fangs narrowly missing her fingers and making the handmaiden stumble back.
"He only loves his Khalessi," Irri said, not bothering to hide her smirk.
Daenerys went to her dragon, soothing Ghidorah and offering her hands instead. The golden dragon climbed up her arms without hesitation, tiny scaled muzzles nuzzling at her throat and chin. Taking care to support him she returned Ghidorah back to his cage, the dragon curling up inside and promptly falling asleep as she penned the cage shut.
Doreah looked a bit shaken from Ghidorah's angry rejection but quickly got distracted by the fine blue dress Xaro had left for Daenerys. She was unsure about wearing it, remembering the last time she'd been given such a gown it had resulted in her being married off like a broodmare. But after the advice from both Irri and Doreah she changed from the white to the blue. The fabric was soft against her skin, rather foreign to the roughly woven clothing of the Dothraki who forged clothes for durability than comfort or looks.
Then she was plunged into the politics of Qarth, invited to a garden gathering and promptly being swarmed by the nobles of the city. Daenerys face already hurt from smiling even if most of the topics bored her. Though travelling through the night markets sounded nice she found the constant flood of people irritating. For Dothraki none bothered a Khalessi without due course or through their Khal but Daenerys was constantly being stopped by strangers wanting to touch her hair or question her about Ghidorah.
She reminded herself Ghidorah was safely back in her rooms where Irri had elected to stay, along with a handful of her khalasar and Xaro's own guards. The rest of her khalasar were wandering around the gardens looking completely baffled by the Qarth nobles behaviour even if they clearly liked the food whereas Doreah was in her element. Even as she watched Rakharo a few paths over he grabbed a grilled fish and just stuffed it in his mouth from a passing server, ignoring the disgusted looks from the people around him. She even spotted Ishabi slowly eating her way through an entire bowl of exotic fruits which she was sharing with a few of the children from the khalasar, the small ground uncaring of the juices staining their lips and fingers.
There was also some sneaky stealing going on and Daenerys tolerated it as best she could until she spotted Kovarro and one of the older warriors, Malakho, having a heated debate while tapping their blades against a golden peacock at the edge of the garden. Jorah was also watching them and Daenerys excused herself as politely as she could and made her way over.
"What are they doing?" Daenerys hissed at Jorah.
Jorah shrugged, "Malakho says the statue is too heavy to carry. Kovarro says that Malakho is an idiot. They can pry out the gems, the rest is pure gold. Very soft. He can chop off as much as we can carry. Or melt it."
"We are his guests!" she snapped to them in Dothraki, "You can't pry it or chop it or melt it."
Both Malakho and Kovarro nodded, Kovarro saying, "Of course not, Khaleesi. We will wait until we leave."
"Not even when we leave."
"Why not?"
"Our host saved us from the Red Waste and you want to steal from him? I will hear no more," she gave them both stern looks and inwardly felt glad as they immediately accepted her orders and left the peacock alone. Though she noticed Kovarro snatch a golden goblet from one of the servers, tossing aside the wine as he inspected it.
She sighed, "My brother used to say the only thing the Dothraki knew how to do was steal things better men have built."
Jorah gave a huff, "It's not the only thing. They're quite good at killing the better men."
Daenerys faced him fully, a frown on her face, "That is not the queen I am going to be."
She wasn't ignorant to the tales of her family and their ruthlessness over the generations. Greatness and madness intertwined. She would punish and kill her enemies yes, but only those who deserve it.
Then a reedy voice interrupted them and Daenerys recognized the bald man garbed in purple robes from her greetings at the gates. One of the Thirteen.
He smiled, "Mother of Dragons. On behalf of the warlocks of Qarth, I welcome you."
She plastered on her most pleasant smile, despite being so wary of magic now. The rest of the discussion was confusion, especially as the man offered her a flawless emerald to stare in. At first she was unsure but she was left even more uneasy as another version of himself, a copy, appeared nearly ten feet away from him. The other guests also jolted at the display, verifying it wasn't occurring in her head.
"Should you grow tired of Xaro's baubles and trinkets, it would be an honour to host you at the House of the Undying," the man smiled thinly, dropping her hand as he continued with, "You are always welcome, Mother of Dragons."
Then, still smiling, he turned and walked away. Daenerys wasn't sure to think, still fairly caught off guard by such a blatant display of magic.
"My apologies," Xaro said, stepping to her side, "Pyat Pree is one of the Thirteen. It was customary for me to extend him an invitation. Customs die slow deaths in Qarth."
"What is the House of the Undying?" Daenerys asked. The name seemed oddly familiar, as if she'd heard it within a dream.
"It is where the warlocks go to squint at dusty books and drink shade of the evening. It turns their lips blue and their minds soft. So soft, they actually believe their parlour tricks are magic."
She could tell from Xaro's tone he obviously wasn't a friend towards magic thought found it a bit strange he dismissed it so easily considering Pyat Pree had shown them such magic. That had not been a trick, that odd double of himself. Things are indeed strange in this city.
Xaro then invited her to walk with him. She gently waved off her bloodriders when they went to follow and they obeyed her without hesitation. She felt gratified in their faith and permitted Xaro to lead her through the gardens to more halls, filled with lounging nobles sipping upon wine and exotic golden structures. The smell of flowers filled the air, the airy fabric of her dressed soft on her skin and the air warm.
"So tell me, how long has your manservant been in love with you?"
Daenerys hadn't expected that comment from the tall man, saying reflexively, "He's not my manservant and he's not in love with me." she paused before she continued more forcefully, "He's my adviser, my friend."
A soft laugh, "Unlikely. I can almost always tell what a man wants."
She chose to ignore the previous comment, "And what about what a woman wants?"
"Far more complicated," Xaro grinned slightly, the golden chains upon his waist clinking together with his strides, "Much more complicated. You, for example, what do you want?"
"To cross the Narrow Sea and take back the Iron Throne," Daenerys said flatly, violet eyes flashing.
"Why?"
She stopped and so did Xaro. She stared unblinkingly at him as she said, "Because I promised my khalasar I'd protect them and find them a safe home."
"You want to conquer the Seven Kingdoms for the Dothraki?" He seemed amused at the prospect.
Daenerys felt her lips curl, "I want them because they're mine by right. The Iron Throne is mine and I will take it."
"Ah, a conqueror."
"And how did you get all of this?" Daenerys rose an eyebrow, "Did someone give it to you?"
Xaro accepted her comment with a dip of his chin, "No. I come from nothing. I hit the docks like a piece of cargo, except someone normally cares what happens to cargo."
"So you wanted more than you had and you took it," Daenerys said tartly, "You're a conqueror, too. You're just less ambitious."
There was a bout of staring before she asked, in a less terse voice, "What do you want, Xaro Xhoan Daxos? At the gates of the city, you bled for me. Why?"
"I will show you why," Xaro said, gesturing for her to follow him.
They walked through the twisting halls of Qarth until they reached Xaro's estate and then climbed down some stairs, deeper and deeper until the walls were lined with torches to puncture through the darkness. They were deep under the earth but despite that Daenerys did not fear it.
They walked until they reached an end to one of the paths, where a massive vault filled the wall. It was ancient and seemed to shine with an odd light, as if slightly wet.
With a smooth movement Xaro unsheathed his sword and struck the door, the sharp chime bouncing through the passage. He did it again, the shower of sparks so bright in the dark before sheathing his sword. It had left not a mark upon the stone.
"The door and the vault is made of Valyrian stone," Xaro said, staring at the door, "The hardest steel does not make a mark. I offered the greatest locksmiths in Qarth their weight in gold if they could break into it. I made the same offer to the greatest thieves. They all went home empty handed."
Gently he touched the round amulet attached to a thick golden chain on his neck, "The only thing that can open this door is this key."
Daenerys was curious, glancing from Xaro to the massive door before asking, "And behind the door?" Xaro just let out a soft laugh and she boldly asked, "And it can all be mine?"
"All?" He seemed amused with the concept, "Let us say half. More than enough to buy horses, ships, armies…Enough to go home."
She knew he wouldn't offer such a thing freely, "All I have to do?"
"Marry me."
Daenerys couldn't contain her own laugh, "That was a romantic proposal."
"I've already married once for love but the gods stole her from me," Xaro told her, his voice completely serious, "I come from nothing. My mother and father never owned a pair of shoes. But marry me and I will give you the Seven Kingdoms and our children will be princes and princesses." He smirked slightly at her expression, "See? I have more ambition than you thought. The time is right, Daenerys Targaryen, First of Your Name. Robert Baratheon is dead."
The next hour seemed to pass in a rush. Xaro told her of the war engulfing Westeros, of the kings attacking one another, of the accusations against the Lannisters, of the Starks rebelling and the Baratheons attacking. The whole country was fighting one another.
Her intention was to leave immediately. With the kingdoms in such turmoil it would be ripe for her return, especially with the legitimacy of the current king being such an issue.
Jorah had protested when she'd stormed back into her quarters, Irri quickly leaving them be as Daenerys began to pack up Ghidorah despite his squawks. His barbed tails stuck out of the holes and she pulled down the leather flaps to secure him more. Truthfully she'd been angry at Jorah's intervention, remembering Xaro's words from before and ended up all but shouting as him even as Ghidorah growled from his cage.
But she had been truthful at saying Jorah was an advisor to her and despite her anger she'd made herself listen. She wanted her throne, wanted her birthright but Jorah was correct. There was also the fact Daenerys had no intention of selling herself in marriage again so despite the rage making her hands shake she eventually, painfully, agreed with Jorah's plan for a ship without the use of Qarth gold.
She also didn't address the way he spoke about her, instead just calmly informing him to locate said ship to which he left without complaint.
Then she let Ghidorah out of his cage, settling on the bed with her golden dragon in her lap. He grumbled and hissed before settling back down, obviously liking the sun shining in through the balcony. Irri crept back in once she was sure her Khalessi's rage was lessened and the woman kept her company even when Daenerys sent a request to meet with the King of Spice the following morning which was accepted. Of Doreah there was no sighting and Daenerys guessed the woman was still information gathering so she didn't let it worry her.
Before retiring fully for the evening she checked on her people and especially Rakharo. His shoulder was healing well and Xaro had even offered the medical aid of the city to help speed his injury along. There was also some more thievery which she scolded them over but on the whole they were settling in quite well.
Of course her meeting with the King of Spice the next morning didn't go well. First he was late and then he refused to call her anything other than 'little princess' and a part of Daenerys wanted to tear at his face with her bare fingers. His refusal of her was infuriating especially when she knew Ghidorah had hatched for her and her alone. They were so eager to see him but refused to accept she was his mother and he chose her.
Meeting with the other kings was just as worthless. The Silk King refusing due to being close with the Lannisters as one of his wealthiest business patrons. The Copper King meanwhile propositioned her, asking for sex in return for a single boat. She left in disgust after having to stop Kovarro from attacking the man outright for his insult. She stormed out of that estate, furious and insulted even as khalasar waited for her. Only a few remained at the estate, most wishing to follow their Khalessi and she had no complaints. Doreah was still gone but Irri once again offered to stay with Ghidorah.
When she left the Copper King Xaro was waiting for her, unperturbed by the looks her bloodriders were giving him. Their protectiveness gladdened her and she fell instep with Xaro as they made their way back to his estates.
Kovarro remained close to her back while the rest of her khalasar hung back further but still close enough in case something went wrong.
She wouldn't entertain marriage with Xaro, however. Earlier before Jorah left to search for a ship he'd warned her of the marriage customs of Qarth and that when wed a spouse could ask for anything from their other and they would have to do so. So while she could demand all of Xaro's wealth and he would have to accept he could also demand her dragon and she would have to comply. Which she would never do. Ghidorah was hers and she could kill anyone who tried to steal him from her.
Though when Daenerys pushed the doors open to their guest quarters the courtyard was littered with the dead bodies of Xaro's guards. Blood was splattered across the stone and dripping down the steps as the metallic stench flooded her nostrils.
Ghidorah.
She broke into a run, boots thudding on the stone as she sprinted across the gory courtyard and darted up the stairs. She heard Xaro shout something as he also was confronted with the slaughter but she ignored it. She heard Kovarro and the rest of her people following but when Daenerys skidding into the upper level she felt her heart catch in her throat; the handful of her khalasar who stayed behind were also slain, their bodies slumped up the stairs to her quarters. Then when she burst through the doors she came to a halt, staring at Irri's dead body lying on the ground just before the empty cage Ghidorah had been in.
"Where is he?"
Daenerys moved so quickly she nearly fell, Irri's body already cold and her heart clenched in grief at the marks around her friend's neck before fury engulfed her even as Kovarro skidded up onto the landing.
"Where is my child?!"
The results were bad.
Daenerys had been utterly furious at Irri's murder and that of her four khalasar who'd stayed to guard Ghidorah. She'd confronted Xaro in fury and he called for an immediate meeting of the Thirteen but that didn't curb her fury. Someone had snuck in, murdered her people and stole her child and she would unleash all her rage upon them,
Her people gathered around her, even the women and children gripping knives in preparation to fight off any more trespassers when she returned from overseeing Xaro's message being sent to the other rulers of Qarth. She had no patience for his apologies.
She had even less patience when he bluntly told her that Ghidorah meant 'nothing to him.'
Daenerys stopped in the middle of climbing the stairs back to her quarters, turning to face Xaro with a snarl, "Nothing? He is more valuable than anything in the world!"
Xaro protested, "Shall we look inside my vault and see what selling your dragon would buy me I cannot buy already? We will get it back."
She was sick of that, he was not one of her khalasar, "There is no we, so why would you help me get him back?"
His face became deadly serious, "I took you under my protection in front of the rulers of my city. A man is what others say he is and no more. If they say that Xaro Xhoan Daxos is a liar, my word is worth nothing. I cannot let this thing happen to you under my roof."
Her voice was cold, "But it did happen under your roof."
"Khaleesi, many times in my life, I have been-"
"I don't care where you've been," she snapped before turning and stalking back up the stairs.
Malakho quickly moved aside to let her pass before firmly planting himself back in place. If anyone tried to get pass, even Xaro, they would hear it.
Inside her people gathered, even Ishabi with a small dirk she'd clearly stolen off someone within the city. They murmured to her with bowed heads as she walked past to her bedchambers, feeling her limbs trembling with fury. Irri's body had been removed, already given to a pyre along with the other four of her people at her insistence. She swallowed back the blur of tears, failing when her gaze landed upon the empty cage.
Ghidorah, where are you?
He was just a baby, he relied upon her to protect him until he was grown and she'd failed it. She'd been so fixated upon returning to the Seven Kingdoms she'd ignored the very real threat of the people in Qarth. That they would covet the last dragon in the world for their own, just like they coveted her.
Brushing aside her tears she touched the empty cage, silently promising her child she would come for him. Even if she had to rip apart Qarth with her bare hands she would come.
Then there was a soft knock on her door and she heard Rakharo's voice asking entry.
"Come in, blood of my blood," she called softly.
Rakharo's expression was blank but Daenerys wasn't fooled. She had not been blind to the affection between him and Irri and her heart ached for her friend and understood what it felt like. But unlike Rakharo they had not yet caught the one responsible whereas she had the satisfaction.
"We agreed to keep watch through the night if it takes that long," Rakharo informed her, "We'll sleep in shifts until the meeting and none will come in."
She accepted that but moved away from the cage to gently touch Rakharo's injured shoulder, "I made sure Irri and the others are resting with their ancestors, their pyre were lit."
"Khalessi..."
"She died for me and I couldn't protect her," Daenerys said bitterly, "I will not let that go unpunished for those who did it."
Rakharo nodded before asking, "Has Doreah come back?"
She looked away, "No. She must be dead as well. Whoever attacked us waited until most of us was gone."
"Blood of my blood," Rakharo said, voiced pained, "The rest of your khalasar swore to you, Khalessi. We're ready to kill your enemies for this and butcher them like hogs. Just say so and we shall."
She grabbed Rakharo's hand, staring at him with violet eyes that burned, "I swear to you we will avenge Irri. Those who killed her will suffer until their last breath; I swore those that harmed any of you will die screaming and I swear we shall do that when we find those responsible for killing my people today."
Rakharo immediately accepted that and Daenerys felt a deep flush of hate for the ones who'd killed members of her khalasar, murdered her friend and stole her child. She would punish them for such a transgression.
Her murderous aspirations would have to wait however as Xaro shortly fetched her to take her to the meeting of the Thirteen with Kovarro accompanying her close, with Jorah still on his quest.
Eleven of the Thirteen died in said meeting.
Xaro Xhoan Daxos was a liar and Pyat Pree coveted her dragon, having stolen him away to the House of the Undying.
The copies slit the throat of the Eleven as they sat even while Pyat Pree insisted she was reunited with Ghidorah. Kovarro guarded her close as they bolted from the chambers, her bloodrider snarling about maegi as he defensively pushed her behind him. Pyat Pree halted them at the door, smiling that empty smile as he invited her yet again to the House of the Undying.
When Jorah stabbed the man in the back a pile of clothing as if he'd never been there and instead he was standing by the window with that smile.
Daenerys had never witnessed such blatant magic before and didn't protest as Kovarro and Jorah pulled her along, fleeing outside.
The whole thing had happened in such a short series of events Daenerys felt as if she was reeling but she forced calm upon her even if a part of her wanted to throw something. Qarth was turning into such turmoil she was unsure how to proceed beyond reclaiming Ghidorah.
Which when Jorah informed her he'd located the House of the Undying, she insisted he take her there. She completely refused his offer of the ship, as he'd located one with a good captain who could take her to Astapor as it currently awaited her at the docks of Qarth. She also rejected his notion that Ghidorah was not her child. She may not of carried him within her womb but she was his mother and he was her son and she would never abandon him.
Kovarro she knew would stand by her no matter what and Jorah gave in when he realized only death would stop her from hunting down Ghidorah. The strange warlock Pyat Pree had offered an invitation and Daenerys did not care that it was a trap. She would find her child or die trying.
Even so it took them nearly an hour of sneaking by the guards sent by Xaro to finally get out of the boundaries of the inner city until Jorah led them to a massive pillar of stone.
Though the sun was shining and the air was clear Daenerys felt the skin on her arms ripple with goosebumps. A few birds screeched in the distance but her gaze was locked upon the structure and the odd unnatural air to it.
"A house of ghosts, Khaleesi," Kovarro said quietly beside her as they climbed the steps to the tower and she knew she wasn't the only one being affected by the atmosphere, "It is known."
When they reached the base a deep stillness seemed to settle around them, with even the birds of the surrounding forest falling silent. Daenerys kept her gaze upon the House of the Undying, like one might with a predator.
"Where are the guards?" Kovarro asked, puzzled.
"The warlocks kill with sorcery, not steel." Jorah said.
"Let them try," Daenerys said before forging ahead.
It seemed as if the air itself was resisting her despite the complete lack of wind as she took the steps until she was right before the tower. Despite their unease Jorah and Kovarro were close at her side, Kovarro keeping a tight grip on his weapon. They circled the House of the Undying but there was a baffling lack of doors in the entire structure. The surrounding stone had odd carvings dug deep into the stone and they seemed to hurt Daenerys' eyes when she looked too closely.
She circled the pillar, neck titled back as she frantically walked around trying to find some way inside. She ignored Jorah's muttering at her back even as Kovarro waited before the stairs, concerned and wanting for Ghidorah and not in the mood for the strange warlock games of the unnatural structure. Her dragon would die without her.
Then something odd happened.
One moment she was walking around the base of the building, the sun beating down upon her and the wind rustling her hair, and the next she was in a dark cavern. The transition was so quick it literally happened in the blink of an eye.
Daenerys jolted back as if she'd been struck, looking around wildly as her heart hammered in her chest. The dark chamber she was in was round with a dozen shut doors surrounding her. In the middle of the room was an empty plinth.
Inspecting the room uncovered nothing so Daenerys took a torch from the wall and chose a door at random. As she did, she heard Ghidorah cry out for her.
It quickly became apparent that she was in a maze.
The House of the Undying was swallowed in darkness, her torch barely letting her see a few feet in front of her. Ghidorah's calls seemed to bounce around the stone corridors, shrill and searching. Daenerys pressed forward despite her anxiety, despite being alone in the blackness. Her child needed her.
When she reached the end of one corridor it opened up into another dark stone chamber. The room was empty except for a long table and a rotting human heart suspended above it. It pulsated with an awful light with each beat and Daenerys tightened her grip on the torch. There were strange shades seated at the table and she wondered if these were the Undying. She did not stray close to them, watching the heart cautiously. As she moved to the door on the opposite side of the room she could hear whispers stir around her, as if the shades were hissing words right into her ear.
The Golden King.
Three fires must you light...One for life and one for death and one to love...
Wings of Death.
Three mounts must you ride...One to bed and one to dread and one to love...
The One who is Many.
Three treasons will you know...Once for blood and once for gold and once for love...
King of the Void.
The storms shall swallow both man and Gods alike.
The heart shuddered and faded into the darkness as the shades melted away.
Ghidorah called again and Daenerys continued across the room even as the shadows thickened to the point her torch was barely visible, to pushing open the door with a squeal of rusted hinges.
The darkness opened up into a massive hall, most of the ceiling missing as a cold light flooded the area. Daenerys tentatively stepped passed a set of towering pillars, dropping her torch as she walked further into the grand hall. Through the broken ceiling and windows she could see a gigantic thunderstorm, long tongues of lightning lancing through the black clouds as the storm heaved and shifted like a living creature. She studied the broken ceiling before turning to the end of the hall where there was a twisted heap of metal with a stain glass window of a seven pointed star behind it.
Though she had never been to King's Landing or even seen it she instantly recognized the Iron Throne.
A massive seat forged from a thousand swords, over four times her own height with jagged, uneven steps of hammered blades until there was the seat forged of bent and burnt swords. It was asymmetrical and pointed, like a twisted thorn bush. Intentional she knew, as Aegon the Conqueror was said to have stated the throne was a seat of conquest and as such a king should never sit easy. Some of her ancestors had cut themselves upon the still sharp swords folded into the ancient throne.
The only sound were her footsteps on the stone floor and the occasional thunder from the storm above. Despite the weather's rage it was snow that fell up her not rain.
She reached out to touch the pommel of the ancient sword but then she heard Ghidorah's cry again. After a moment of dithering she pulled away from the throne of her ancestors, staring at the blackened metal before turning and going to the halls doors. The wood felt so real under her hands as she pushed them open and when she walked through she was suddenly in a field of snow.
Above the storm rumbled with thunder even as snow swirling around her. The hall had vanished and now at her back was a gigantic wall of ice. Much like the Iron Throne she recognized the Wall just from description alone.
Raising an arm Daenerys squinted through the storm, the snow nearly blinding her. In the distance she heard a scream of some great beast, something that made her skin crawl and she felt the urge to flee and hide. She tried to tell herself that this was simply an illusion, brought on by the magic of the maegi. Another scream sounded, this one deep and hoarse compared to the shriek of the first creature.
Straightening her spine Daenerys moved forward through the storm, snow whipping around her to tangle in her hair and tug at her clothes. The cold seeped into the bare skin of her arms and face but she pushed herself forward, eventually spotting the humped form a tent set in the middle of the icy plain. High above she glimpsed something gigantic among the storm clouds but was so blinded by the snow she couldn't see it clearly.
As soon as she stepped through the flag of the tent the storm stopped, soft light flooding through the material as it it were pitched under a sunny sky. Warmth suffused her limbs, snowflakes melting into rivulets of water to drip down her arms.
Drogo waited for her inside, seated on the bed with a squirming infant in his arms.
"Moon of my life." Drogo said to her, his voice achingly familiar.
Daenerys felt herself tremble as she eyed the babe held in his arms, with the same dark hair of his father but with her violet eyes. She swallowed back bile before saying hoarsely, "This is dark magic; like the magic that took you from me. Took you from me before I could even...Maybe I am dead and I just don't know it yet."
Drogo left out a huff, "Or maybe I refused to enter the Night Lands without you. Maybe I told the Great Stallion to go fuck himself and came back here to wait for you."
Despite the grief clawing at her throat she let out a soft laugh, "That sounds like something you'd do."
Despite knowing it was a magical trap the pull was so strong and Daenerys bent down to look more closely at Rhaego, her son, who she never got to meet. Those violet eyes so like her own. This close she could smell Drogo, exactly as she remembered, and the weight of his arm resting against her back as the other held their child close.
"Or maybe it is a dream. Your dream, my dream...I do not know. These are questions for wise men with skinny arms. You are the moon of my life. That is all I know, and all I need to know. And if this is a dream, I will kill the man who tries to wake me," Drogo said, hand shifting from her back to lightly touch her chin.
"Until the sun rises in the west and sets in the east..." Tears burned her eyes but she forced herself to continue, "Until the rivers run dry and the mountains blow in the wind like leaves."
It was as the witch had said and she knew this was a trap. As if through water she heard Ghidorah's cries and she forced herself away from her husband and son. They were a dream. As she pulled away an eerie stillness took over the two, Drogo's eyes now blank and empty like a child's toy. She couldn't bear to look at Rhaego, at seeing if his violet eyes would be like Viserys' in death, and instead pivoted on her heel and left despite the dagger of pain in her heart.
They were dead and she must forge ahead. She would not let magic blind her again.
When she pushed aside the tent flap she was in a circular room with a dozen doors and a single plinth in the centre, the very first room she'd been in. Ghidorah was chained there with iron collars attached to all three of his necks. He nearly filled up the stone surface with his sinuous length, tips of his twin tails hanging over the side but he noticeably perked up when he spotted her with all three heads immediately calling for her.
Daenerys nearly ran to the plinth, quickly running her fingers over Ghidorah's smooth scales as the dragon nuzzled at her hand. The collars around his necks were smooth with no apparent hinge or lock.
"He wants his mother," a low voice said, making Daenerys whirl around. It was the sallow faced man, Pyat Pree.
Ghidorah hissed threateningly behind her and Daenerys felt the hairs on her arms stand on end. The man's smile was hollow, much like his eyes.
"He wants to be with you. Do you want to be with him? When he was born a new age of our world began and so did the magic and rules of our current world," Pyat Pree said even as more copies of himself appeared, as if there were a dozen of him in the room. She didn't let her gaze drop from the first one as he continued, "You shall be here as his strength, forever. After all he is stronger in your presence. So you shall stay with him and stay with us. Winter...Summer, and winter again. A thousand seasons shall pass and we shall be with you, until that too comes to pass."
Metal cuffs were suddenly around her wrists, the iron cold and unyielding as the chains they were linked to pulled tight on either side of the room by another set of copies. Her arms were stretched out like a sacrifice.
Pyat Pree's eyes glinted with an unnatural light, "Welcome home, Daenerys Stormborn."
"This is not my home," she said coldly, staring him down with an unflinching violet glare, "My home is across the sea where my people are waiting for me."
His smile was insincere, "You'll be waiting a long time."
She strained against the cuffs but they seemed to be made from the same material binding Ghidorah. She stopped, knowing that she wouldn't be able to break them and instead looked over her shoulder. Ghidorah was already watching her with all three heads, his left most one letting out a soft, bird-like trill before flicking out a tongue. The right meanwhile shifted his gaze to Pyat Pree and hissed while the middle continued to stare levelly at her.
Daenerys felt something hot and fierce run through her body and she found herself uttering a word- much like when she named her dragon it was something she didn't think of.
"Jelmazmar."
All three heads shifted to stare at Pyat Pree before the middle one snapped his jaws, a strange light flickering over his fangs as he snarled.
Pyat Pree drew back even as Ghidorah bared all three sets of fangs before the middle one spat out a flurry of sparks much like someone striking a flint. The bafflement on the maegi's face at the dragon's antics didn't match Daenerys' certainty. Ghidorah was strong, he could do this.
Ghidorah reared up on his hind legs, barely the size of a toddler even with his wings partially outstretched for balance. His heads reared back like a snake about to strike as a bright glow gathered in all three of his throats, the barbs on his tail fully tense.
Then he spat out lances of lightning, no wider than her fingertips but the brilliant bright arcs zapping up Pyat Pree's arms and searing through his flesh. The maegi stumbled, his body spasming and contorting in uncontrolled motions before Ghidorah inhaled and breathed more lightning, each head shooting out a spike of the burning light in turn. The reek of burning skin and Pyat Pree's screeches filled the air but Daenerys stood patiently as Ghidorah continued to spit not fire, but storm at the maegi.
Eventually the man stumbled and collapsed, pale skin now blackened and burn with the edges of his robes glowing with embers while his body seized for several moments on the ground before coming still. Even so Daenerys could see several small forks of lightning darting across his still form, the muscles twitching.
The cuffs around her hands disintegrated into nothing, as did the chains binding her to the walls. As she turned back to her dragon the collars around his neck also slipped to the shadows to become nothing.
Daenerys held out her arms and Ghidorah immediately crawled into them. Daenerys pressed soft kisses against his heads, murmuring to him in gentle tones.
She and her child were reunited once again.
Stormborn.
Quick as a striking snake Kovarro hooked the curved end of his blade underneath Xaro's pendant, snatching it away before he could even stir.
The man instantly jerked awake at his chain breaking but froze as did Doreah, who had slumbered next to him among the silks, at the swords pointed at them both.
Daenerys stared at them both coldly, Ghidorah held tightly in her arms as the dragon hissed at the two with all three of his heads. Behind her the rest of her khalasar watched, Rakharo by her side with his expression blank. Xaro was tense, staring at Kovarro's blade and then at Daenerys but wasn't foolish enough to strike. Malakho had already grabbed both of the man's blades when they'd slunk into his bedchambers, the night sky lending them the perfect cover to slip into his palace.
Meanwhile Doreah started to plead with her, "Khaleesi, please. He said you'd never leave Qarth alive-"
She had no interest in listening to a traitor's lies, instead turning away with a blunt, "Come."
They were dragged from the bed, hands roughly tied behind their backs and then shoved along as they made their way into the depths of Xaro's estate until they came to the great vault. Ghidorah moved so he was balanced upon her shoulder, tails weaving from side to side as he hissed. One head kept a close watch behind them, where her khalasar were shoving along Xaro and Doreah, the middle stared ahead, while the right nuzzled against her brow.
Kovarro handed over the pendant and she opened the vault, the stone groaning slightly as the thick door swung open to reveal nothing but darkness.
"Empty," Daenerys murmured even as Ghidorah trilled again, his claws digging into her shoulder. She eyed the blackness for a moment before turning to face the two captives, a faint smile settling upon her features as she said, "Thank you, Xaro Xhoan Daxos. Thank you for teaching me this lesson."
She stepped away from the vault while giving her warriors brisk nods. With harsh shoves they pushed Xaro and Doreah into the vault, Daenerys ignoring Xaro's attempts at bargaining while simply staring at Doreah with cold eyes. She watched as Doreah started to scream and cry even as Jorah stepped forward to push the vault door shut, their pleads disappearing as the heavy stone sealed shut with them inside. Then Jorah pulled the amulet lock free, handing it back over to Daenerys who took it with slow movements. It had indeed been a lesson and not one she intended to forget.
For a long moment she stared at the sealed vault before turning and walking back along the corridor with her khalasar by her side and her child clinging to her shoulder.
Back in Xaro's lavish rooms the pillage was beginning in earnest, those who waited while their Khalessi dealt with the traitors already ransacking the room with great enthusiasm. Daenerys watched in amusement even as one grabbed a jewel encrusted goblet from the bedside and started prying the gems free with a dagger as Jorah took his place by her side.
"It's all a lie." Jorah said thoughtfully.
Daenerys nearly nodded before she reached over to pick up a golden bowl, tossed out the fruit before eyeing it critically and how it didn't shine as well as Ghidorah's scales. She handed it to Jorah, saying, "Looks real enough to me. Real enough to buy a ship perhaps?"
He looked it over with experienced eyes before allowing, "Aye, a small ship."
"Well guess we'll need to take more," she said with a smile, before turning away.
"Take all the gold and jewels!" she heard Jorah shout in Dothraki behind her, to the shouts and cheers of her people.
As she walked through the pillage she could see Malakho holding up a great golden peacock with Kovarro's help and even Ishabi pulling down one of the exotic pelts from the walls. Several of the children darted by, arms full with gold and precious jewels to which she smiled at the enthusiasm. She would see her destiny through yet.
"Khalessi," Rakharo's voice stopped her and her bloodrider came to her side.
"Irri will ride easy tonight, Khalessi, with the traitor's screams in her ears," he said lowly. His eyes were bright, as was his smile.
"She will, blood of my blood," Daenerys agreed, "I promised her that her enemies will die screaming and I will uphold that. For each and every one of you."
"Yes, you did. Here," he offered a hand and in his palm was a small bell. Made from pure silver looted from Xaro's own property no doubt.
She blinked, knowing full well the custom of the Dothraki to thread bells through their hair to signify their victories in battle, "Blood of my blood, I have won no victories-"
"You killed the maegi," Rakharo argued, "You killed the King of Qarth. You are worthy of the bell, Khalessi."
After a moment she accepted, taking the bell and carefully pulling several locks of her free-flowing hair just behind her ear across the shoulder Ghidorah wasn't perched upon. With patience movements she weaved a small braid which would hang down her front, fastening it with the twine of the bell. Once done she experimentally shook her head gently, the bell chiming softly.
She smiled at Rakharo, who returned the gesture before going back to his ransacking via grabbing one of the small statues of a lion to hack the soft pure gold into pieces. Daenerys fingered the end of the small braid, Ghidorah stretching over his nearest head to nose at it curiously before nuzzling against her jaw.
"Now let us be off," she said to her child, Ghidorah letting out a little chirp as if in agreement.
With that she left for the doors of the estate, hearing her people following behind and knowing there was the ship Jorah procured for them waiting for them at the port. They'd had the spoils of their victory and now and she was one step closer to reclaiming her birthright of the Iron Throne. They'd be gone long from the city of Qarth before anyone realized what she'd done with their so-called King.
The bell braided within her hair chimed with each step and Ghidorah snapped all of his jaws, sparks flittering across his fangs like stars.
Notes:
Jelmazmar = Storm/violent weather/storm season
I felt that would fit with Ghidorah's lightning breath
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