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Daenerys TargaryenKing GhidorahJorah MormontMissandei (ASoIaF)Grey WormBarristan SelmyTyrion LannisterJon SnowQuaithe (ASoIaF)The Others (ASoIaF)Samwell TarlyMaester AemonKinvara (Game of Thrones)Aegon Targaryen (Son of Elia)Jon ConningtonShireen Baratheon
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Not Canon CompliantCanon-Typical ViolenceGhidorah is still Dany's babbyintelligent GhidorahTelepathyTelepathic BondParent-Child RelationshipGame of Thrones Fix-ItThunder and LightningBAMF Daenerys TargaryenDaenerys Targaryen Deserves BetterDaenerys did nothing wrongMissandei Deserves Better (ASoIaF)Literally all the women in GoT deserve betterNot Beta ReadBAMF WomenWomen Being AwesomeA mix of the show and the booksDragon RidersSymbiotic RelationshipDaenerys Targaryen Is Not a Mad Queennot stark friendlyHope vs. DespairTargaryen RestorationDaenerys Targaryen-centricDragonsMinor Original Character(s)Character Death@D&D ruthless doesn't mean Mad™And doesn't mean you'll just randomly burn the shit out of civiliansNo RomanceImplied/Referenced Child AbuseImplied/Referenced Rape/Non-conImplied/Referenced IncestDaenerys Targaryen is Azor AhaiWhite Walkers (A Song of Ice and Fire)
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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 3: Beneath the stars
Summary:
It's kinda hilarious if you've read the books 'cause at one point Kings Landing does get a report of a three headed dragon which Varys mentions and Tywin just fobs it off.
Anyway I'm using this figurine of Ghidorah as a basic 'reference' for how he'll look in this fic since it's really frigging hard in the movie to get a clear shot of him since he's nearly always in the dark or surrounded by a hurricane
Also I really want that figurine he's so gorgeous 😭
Chapter Text
The ship was of medium size with orange sails, along with a competent crew per Jorah's promise.
Her khalasar, faithful to the last, stepped on board with only a few bouts of hesitation and muttering of ill omens. They were the first Dothraki to cross the poisoned water and as expected there was a lot of sea sickness despite the amount of ginger being chewed as they made their way around the coast. But they endured because of their faith in her.
Stopping at several of the ports along the way to Astapor allowed them to sell a lot of the possessions taken from Qarth, resupplying themselves and buying necessities while still keeping the majority of jewels and gold. Daenerys had changed from the flowy, airy fabrics of Qarth to a red dress of plain yet fine material with thickly weaved dark trousers and leather boots. The warm climate of Essos meant she could easily leave her arms bare but she was aware she had more travel to do hence the practical clothing choice. Around her neck was a golden chain with a silver tooth, much like a dragons fang. She stored her scant possessions in her personal cabin, mostly the books gifted to her upon her wedding day.
The crew of the ship were eager to curry favour and several times she'd heard the captain bragging in the ports they visited that he was chosen by the Dragon Queen to escort her along Essos. Same with all the marvelling over Ghidorah as the golden dragon remained close to Daenerys, curious about everything around him even if he snapped or snarled to anyone other than her who got too close.
The first day upon the ship he'd perched upon the prow, just above the figurehead with golden wings stretched out like a small sea eagle. He'd started out clumsy and unsure with learning to fly, Daenerys bouncing him up and down in her hands to try and help his lift off when they'd stopped at one of the ports. She felt a bit foolish running down the strip of beach with Ghidorah in her outstretched arms when he'd still been small enough but he managed to flail off in a lopsided flight, gliding down the beach nearly several yards. As he doggedly persisted he'd rapidly gained control over his wings. Now he was confidant enough to skim the water alongside the ship as it sailed, middle head seemingly steering while the other two snatched up fish from the sea to swallow them whole.
With such easy access to food Ghidorah grew substantially, now easily the size of a wolf with his shoulders at the level of her hips. He was large enough he'd started using his wings to aid him in walking upon the ground, when previously he'd been small enough to hop like a bird.
Jorah had told her they were only a few days from Astapor now after sailing around the south coast of Essos and Daenerys was still fairly disgusted by the idea of buying slave soldiers. But Jorah was persistent, stating how the Unsullied were considered the best warriors in the known world and how they wouldn't pillage and riot. It was one of the reasons why Astapor reportedly did not bother to keep their walls high to deter Dothraki hordes since the Dothraki themselves were wary of the Unsullied. Still, Daenerys was unsure with how to proceed with such a thing as she was determined to not end up as a slave owner. Jorah had just encouraged her to at the very least speak to the masters there to learn more of the Unsullied and Daenerys grudgingly agreed. She did need soldiers for her cause.
Now though they had a few days left until they arrived and Daenerys felt almost tense waiting for the ship to reach Astapor even if she loved the sea. She awoke during one of the nights, jolting awake in her cabin for no reason at her. She heard nothing but the sound of waves pushing against the ship. After lying among the blankets for an indeterminate amount of time she finally dragged herself out of bed, wrapping one of the sheep wool cloaks around herself to go out on deck. Outside the sky was deep black and showered with stars, the moon a gleaming coin above. The crew had dropped anchor for the night so there was none to bother her.
Ghidorah, who'd claimed the crows nest as his impromptu nest for their trip, noticed her despite the late hour and glided down to her in a rush of cool night air. Daenerys settled down at the main deck just before the prow, back against the wooden railing and legs stretched out before her with her cloak pulled close. She welcomed her child, Ghidorah crawling down next to her until long necks resting over her thighs. She stroked at his scales, the texture like smooth pebbles against her palm and looking almost silver in the night. Each head had ten horns, five on either side which were getting small ridges like a ram. There were also clusters of tiny spikes along his jaw, still round and fairly harmless. His fangs and the talons of his feet were sharp but small.
The muscles on his wings were getting more defined, growing stronger each day the more he flew. While there was the main arm there were also three more fingers jutting from either side of his waist, with the golden membrane of his wings stretching along each finger until ending at the base of his tails. His back was studded with small spikes. Interestingly enough his left and right neck only had one row of the spikes while the middle head had two rows bracketing the vertebrae. There was also two rows running down either tail while the spikes on the club-like ends of his tails grew thicker. The scales of the undersides of his throats and chest were wide, almost like plates of forged armour.
But they were still soft, not the nigh impenetrable armour of fully grown dragons. It would be easy for him to get hurt. He was the last dragon in the world as she was. A lonely creature, just like herself.
"I remember Doreah told me a story she'd heard from a Qartheen trader about their tales of where dragons came from," Daenerys said, tipping back her head to gaze up at the night sky and the gleaming moon, "That once there used to be two moons in the sky. But at some point one of the moons got too close to the sun and it cracked from the heat which caused thousands upon thousands of dragons to emerge. They drank the sun's fire which is where they got their fiery breath. And that one day the last moon will touch the sun and more dragons will emerge."
She wondered about Doreah, if the traitor had gone mad in the darkness of the vault or died from lack of air. Daenerys found herself not particularity caring; Doreah betrayed her and murdered Irri and aided in the abduction of her child. She deserved to die afraid.
Daenerys looked down at the dragon in her lap. Ghidorah's necks were as flexible as any snakes, his left and right entwined while the middle coiled around like a serpent until his head was resting upon the coils. She rubbed at the soft skin around his still growing horns.
"Aegon and his sisters, Rhaenys and Visenya, had the last dragons; Meraxes, Vhagar, and Balerion the Black Dread were the three they rode. Balerion was the biggest dragon the world had seen, who came grown from Valyria itself, and his flames helped forge the Iron Throne," her fingers scratched behind Ghidorah's stubby horns, her voice wistful as she remembered the tales Viserys told of her ancestors, "A dragons flame match their scales; Balerion's flames were as black as his hide and the flames of the dragons were so hot they melted castles and stone."
Ghidorah's eyes glowed in the night, his pupils round within the crimson iris as he watched her intently. His other two heads seemed asleep.
"The last dragon died over a hundred and fifty years ago. It was said to be a small and deformed thing," Daenerys said, "And when it died so did dragons until some people thought they were just tales. House Targaryen was the remains of Old Valyria, which has even more tales around it. Both as a people and for dragons and Valyria was seen as the greatest civilization to have exited. The towers still stand even after centuries and blades forged from the steel never dulls or breaks. All that was lost when when the Doom happened, us Targaryens only escaped because they had settled in Westeros at Dragonstone. The rest died when the mountains exploded into a fire so hot it burned even the dragons and with it was all our greatness of Valyria, all gone from a single day. Then the Century of Blood engulfed Essos while the Targaryens lived in Westeros and bided their time."
Daenerys would've felt foolish for explaining her history to Ghidorah but there was just too much knowing in his eyes. Dragons were always said to be more than beasts- it was why there was never any mention of the Targaryens using saddles or reins to control their mounts, or why Targaryen blood alone allowed them to bond with dragons. They were said to be as intelligent as humans and the way Ghidorah seemed so intent on her story made her certain it was true. He was a Targaryen like herself, a relic of the greatest civilization the world had ever seen and he deserved to know his history. They were the last two true heirs of Valyria, even after the world had tried so hard to kill them they still survived.
"No one travels to Old Valyria and those that do never come back or they come back wrong," Daenerys said quietly, remembering the books she'd read and stories she'd heard while in Pentos. The noise of the sea was placid, the noise of the waves lapping at the boat calming as she continued, "The Smoking Sea surroundings it, still burning from the Doom and is said to be filled with demons and krakens. Whole fleets have been lost to the sea and strange creatures live in Old Valyria. But I've still never heard stories of a dragon like you. Of breathing lightning, not fire. Of so many heads."
Ghidorah blinked slowly, the soft golden scales on his eyelids all but glowing in the clear light of the moon. She wished she could've seen the dragons of old; Viserys had drawn his best memories of the dragon skulls held in the Red Keep before the Iron Throne that he'd seen as a boy, with the ancient bones as black and gleaming as polished obsidian. Viserys had also said Balerion's skull had teeth that were the same length of a sword.
Daenerys stroked his head, her other hand patting between the small spikes along his spine, "When I was born a storm so vicious it smashed my father's fleet to splinters raged around Dragonstone and my mother, Rhaella, died soon after I came into this world. The Usurper sent assassins after us, an infant and a child, like how they murdered Aegon and Rhaenys. They stabbed a little girl half a hundred times and smashed a tiny babe against the stone wall to the point his skull was like a stood upon berry. That man who caused that, Robert Baratheon, is dead but his children sit on the throne they stole from my family. They'll try to kill us soon, if they haven't plotted again already."
She still remembered fleeing so often in her younger years, usually only hours before the assassins arrived. She also remembered more recently the vintner, who tried to poison her before Jorah's intervention. Tried to kill her and her unborn baby. The Usurper and his family, and all those who supported him, were deceitful murderers. It didn't matter if he died, his whole house supported rebelling against her family and murdering children and continued to try and finish her and her brother even after they fled East. They'd rewarded a man who violated the most sacred of oaths to stab his king in the back, they reward the men who murdered a little girl and killed a defenceless baby. Daenerys would make them all suffer when she returned to Westeros. With fire and blood she would deal out retribution.
"Why do the Gods make kings and queens, if not to protect the ones who can't protect themselves?" Daenerys said, fingers trembling slightly as she stroked Ghidorah's golden scales, "I will show no mercy upon those who claimed their crowns on the death of babies and children. I will raze their cities and kill their soldiers for what they've done."
Daenerys blinked rapidly, tears burning her violet eyes. They left shining trails down her cheeks, the wetness gleaming as silver as her hair in the night.
A forked tongue flicked across the skin of her, licking away the tears. The two heads which had seemed asleep were now looking up at her, the centre most one having stretched up to her face. Daenerys felt a smile appear on her face, pushing aside her grief and rage. Her child was with her and she was stronger than ever. She must not look back, must not give in to despair. She needed to be strong.
"I am blood of the dragon," she said, though to herself or to Ghidorah or both she was unsure, "I am Daenerys Stormborn, Princess of Dragonstone, of the blood and seed of Aegon the Conqueror. None knew dragons for nearly two hundred years until you hatched for me. Stags, lions, direwolves- dragons devour them all."
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