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Published:2020-04-25Updated:2026-04-06Words:409,591Chapters:71/?Comments:5,535Kudos:6,016Bookmarks:1,658Hits:466,752
The Stormborn and the Stormbringer
SkilledWarriorKiwi
Chapter 6: KNIGHTS
Chapter Text
"King Robert wanted her dead."
"Of course he wanted her dead. She's a Targaryen. The last Targaryen." Barristan's voice was calm, simply stating a fact.
"I suppose no one on the small council could speak sense to him."
"I didn't sit on the small council."
"No? Doesn't the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard traditionally-"
"Traditionally, yes, but I killed a dozen of Robert's friends during his rebellion. He didn't want advice on how to govern from a man who had fought for the Mad King. Can't say I minded much. I always hated the politics."
"Aye, I imagine I would, too. Hours spent jabbering about backstabbings and betrayals the world over."
Barristan gave a low hum of acknowledgement to Jorah's comment. He'd grown in Westeros, knew how vicious Kings Landing could be with their 'game'. Daenerys hadn't yet mastered the lighter touch of politics but she was honing her skills each day. With the addition of the old knight, Daenerys had requested he verse her in more political arts of address and courtly skills. Though Barristan was no great lord he had still spent decades in Kings Landing and shared his experiences without hesitation.
Still, Jorah was wary of the man. He been with them not even a week and already Daenerys was welcoming him directly to her side. The only thing that had stopped Jorah from protesting his queen's decision was the knowledge of Ser Barristan's honour, which was well known among Westeros Houses. He doubted Barristan would harm Daenerys but he was still quite the unknown to Jorah. Whenever Daenerys invited the old knight for their evening talks Jorah would insist on standing guard outside her tent along with one of her bloodriders.
Daenerys had welcomed the knight with open arms and Jorah reminded himself it was her decision. Even if she was still a young girl, naught even in her twentieth year, she was his queen and he needed to respect that. Even if it was difficult at times, having spent many months being one of the few by her side when she'd been apart of Khal Drogo's khalasar and their shared Westerosi roots giving them a connection neither else had.
As the two knights conversed the sky was clear and the sun was shining high above the army as they marched. Jorah and Barristan were riding their horses apace along the plains next to the long river, even as the Unsullied followed the worn dirt road. Daenerys was upon the back of her zorse, white hair glinting gold as she cantered through the lines of Unsullied with her three bloodriders close behind her. The rest of her little khalasar were walking with the stock horses and wagons, some of the children playing around the green bushes and laughing, high excited voices easily heard over the rhythmic pace of armoured boots. Daenerys had insisted the pace for her army to be conservative, wanting to come to the next slaver city of Yunkai fully rested which Jorah had accepted without question. She was growing shrewd to the ways of war and she would need all the experience she could get before she marched to Westeros.
But she was learning, and quickly too. Added in the logistics of leading an army, or more importantly feeding an army and he knew Daenerys was being worked to the bit though the fire in her violet eyes never once waned. The ships gifted to her proved invaluable and many of the freedmen who chose to follow her would take their own flocks. Even now at the back of the Unsullied there was scores of sheep and goats being herded along, most of their meat being salted and preserved when slaughtered for army rations. There were also weaponsmiths, their wagons pulled by great draft horses to burden their smithing equipment. Daenerys had spent hours in her command tent with her council, learning everything needed for war.
Her khalasar had also grown; with the sacking of Astapor, over two hundred Dothraki traded to the masters had been freed and at Daenerys' command she assigned her bloodriders to train them as cavalry. Her original khalasar, those who chose her on the fields, were still kept closest to her and Jorah had seen the women teaching the children how to sew, creating flags and banners which showcased the crimson Targaryen dragon. Her bloodriders also painted their horses in streaks of crimson dye, black and red ribbons tied in their steeds mane and tails. Their Khalessi had grown strong.
Above, the sharp call of her dragon rang through the air and Jorah's horse shifted uneasily. He patted the dark shoulder, seeing the muscles twitch beneath fine hair. Barristan also shifted uncomfortably next to him, gaze darting up to the blue sky where they could see the golden dragon's form as it slowly followed Daenerys above.
Jorah ignored his anxiety over the strange trilling cry of the dragon, instead glancing over towards Daenerys and her zorse, "She'll have to wade through that political muck if she wants to rule the Seven Kingdoms."
Both Jorah and Barristan dismounted, leading their horses to the edge of the river where the thirsty animals immediately started drinking. In the march they could see the golden-eyed scribe who Daenerys had taken as a handmaiden riding her own horse at a low walk next to one of the supply wagons where Strong Belwas was walking with and eating a sizeable portion of horse jerky. The pit fighter clearly had no complaints about such a meal. Also a benefit of the Unsullied, as they did not make demands for better rations. Many a march had gone to pot over fighting for food.
"She'll have good men around her to advise her, men with experience," Barristan replied.
"What men do you have in mind?"
"Forgive me, Ser Jorah, for what I'm about to say, but your reputation in Westeros has suffered over the years."
Jorah gave a grunt, stoking his horse's neck, "It suffered for a reason. I sold men into slavery."
"I don't know if your presence by her side will help our cause when we go home." There was a pointed note in the old knight's tone.
"Our cause? Forgive me, Ser Barristan, but I was busy defending the Khaleesi against King Robert's assassins while you were still bowing to the man," Jorah's voice got a bite into it at the end.
Barristan wasn't put off by Jorah's words, "We both want her to rule. Am I wrong?"
"You only joined us a few days ago. I can't speak to your intentions."
"If we're truly her loyal servants, we will do whatever needs to be done, no matter the cost, no matter our pride."
"You're not Lord Commander here. You're just another exile. And I take my orders from the queen," Jorah growled, tugging on his horse's reins to pull it away from the river.
"As you say-"
Both men tensed as the dragon suddenly descended down to the river bank several feet from them, thick buffets of air stirring up dirt and dust as the three headed dragon flared out its wings. The ground grumbled as it landed, claws clawing long furrows into the dirt before it tucked its great leathery wings against its sides. It was bigger than a horse now when resting on all fours, even if Jorah had noticed the dragon had the odd habit of standing up on its hind legs like an eagle.
He nearly wanted to make a snarky comment over the way Barristan took a step back when the creature landed but Jorah also felt the instinctive urge to brace himself as the dragon's right head swiveled around to stare at them, even as the other two heads began to drink from the river. Its long barbed tails flicked back and forth, the spiked tips the size of a flanged mace.The smooth plates upon the undersides of its throats shifted and flexed as it drank.
"Dragons won the throne before, defeated the North without even a single battle," Barristan said, watching the dragon closely as its one head glared back with glittering crimson eyes, "Many would say a Targaryen having a three headed dragon is a sign from the Gods."
Jorah made no comment; Daenerys was of much the same, claiming Ghidorah's hatching for her being a sign she was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms. Jorah didn't put much stock in Gods but he couldn't shake off the feeling that the golden dragon was hardly a benevolent gift. Then again Aegon the Conqueror did not win the Kingdoms through gentle words and calm reasoning, he burnt his enemies to ash upon Balerion's back and with his sister-wives at his side.
And Ghidorah, when fully grown, would most likely be capable of such a thing. He could still remember the reek of the Good Master's skin as his flesh blackened under the lightning breath of the golden dragon, unleashed without hesitation upon the words of Daenerys. He was unsure of what to think if Ghidorah ever reached the size of the old Targaryen dragons; already it was far larger than the Last Dragon, which had been barely more than the size of a chicken.
"Dragons have only ever obeyed those of Old Valyria," Jorah said instead, "Until the Doom occurred they had no equal."
The golden dragon finished its drinking, muzzles dripping water as all three of its heads turned to look at the two knights. Its teeth were the length of daggers while the ribbed horns curling back from the crown of each skull was as thick as a rams. Still, Jorah always found the most disquieting thing about the dragon to be its eyes. Daenerys did not care, fussing over the creature as if it were her own child, but Jorah had to set his jaw to not recoil as the golden dragon approached them on all fours.
The horses shied away, flicking their tails and whinnying nervously at the dragon's approach. The right head already had its muzzled wrinkled, while the middle was arched back like snake. The left meanwhile had its head cocked to the side, watching Barristan closely as a forked tongue flicked out like a curious snake. The thick muscles along the arms of its wings shifted underneath its golden scales, making the sunlight sparkle off them like diamonds as it stopped short of a foot from them. Its breath smelled of blood.
"Ser dragon," Barristan finally said, keeping a firm grip on his horse's reins.
Jorah said nothing, knowing far better than to draw his sword to his Khalessi's dragon regardless of how much it was eyeing him like a dog would a mutton chop.
Then they heard Daenerys' sweet voice call out, easily heard over the rhythmic footsteps of the army upon the march. The dragon's snarling dropped as its right head twisted around to spot Daenerys perched upon her zorse at the top of a small knoll and looking over at them. The three headed dragon reared up on its hind legs, calling back with a bird-like trill before Jorah had to shield his eyes as the dragon abruptly unfurled its wings and took to the air in a swirl of dust. The dragon quickly flapped over to Daenerys, landing down next to her to which she immediately started stoking its head.
Jorah scrubbed at his brow before swinging himself back up onto his horse, suddenly feeling cold and clammy despite the heat.
"Our queen has a heavy journey ahead of her," Barristan murmured, still watching Daenerys and her dragon.
"And I intend to be with her every step of the way," Jorah replied, before spurring his horse back over to the march.
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