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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 9: Champion of Meereen
Chapter Text
Daenerys and Ghidorah had flown together every day since he agreed to let her ride him and upon his back it was so easy to spy the surrounding land of the hills and plains and twist of the rivers that let out to the sea. When they soared through the clouds the army of Unsullied and freemen looked like ants trekking across the great land. Daenerys quickly learned she needed to wear clothing with the inners of lambs wool as it grew cold the higher they flew. The clouds also covered her in droplets, making her hair shine like silver and Ghidorah's scales sparkle like polished coins.
Their connection grew stronger until she could sense the thread of his emotions even without touching him, like a slither of foreign feelings and thoughts at the back of her mind. Sometimes, when she was riding with her troops upon her striped one, she'd get flashes of Ghidorah out hunting for fish or after the wild horse herds that populated the Dothraki sea. She knew it was important she was seen by her army and freemen, and Ghidorah did not tolerate anyone other than her touch so she took her flights with him usually in the early morning or towards night once they made camp.
When they flew too high the air would become thin and strangely dry, making Daenerys light headed enough Ghidorah would have to descend. He exhibited no discomfort to the thin air and she got the impression he'd flown even higher before without ill. She wondered if Ghidorah would be capable of flying among the stars, if that was why the star fell for him when he was born.
It also showed her the strange curve of the world upon the horizon, as if the entire land and oceans were upon a ball. Rhaenys, out of Aegon and Visenya, was said to ride her dragon more often than her siblings combined and wished to explore the world once their campaign was completed but a scorpion bolt through Meraxes' eye ended such a thought but Daenerys could see the splendid ideal behind such a goal. Much like when she dreamed of being a sailor, flying around the sphere of the world to seek out all the lands- from the Green Hell of Sothoryos with its brindled men and basilisks far to the south, the always winter tundra beyond the Wall of Westeros, the Grey Waste and Shadow Lands far to the east, and then the mysterious Ulthos that is beyond both Sothoryos and even the Shadow Lands. Even the ruins of Old Valyria, that lay just south-west of Slavers Bay and where many feared to tread since the Doom. To complete a map showing the world within its entirety.
It was a distant longing even if she could feel Ghidorah's own interest in exploring the far lands but as it was she always had to return to her army, even if they looked so tiny and insignificant when flying up so high.
Dragonrider was something which swept through her army, especially when she used Ghidorah to fly to the back of her host to dismount near the blacksmiths to check upon the arms and weapons being forged or repaired. She also gifted one of Ghidorah's spare teeth to the blacksmith who'd made the fang daggers and necklace for herself, a gift from the Mother of Dragons.
Even if that last title wasn't quite correct, Daenerys guessed it was an easier way to roll off the tongue.
But she knew that information would spread and a part of Daenerys wondered if it would reach all the way to Westeros. That if the lions, stags and direwolves circling the throne would shiver to know there was a dragon rider who sought to feed upon them. If they would try to slay her again, like the wine merchant or if they would hide in their dens waiting for Daenerys and Ghidorah to dig them out.
Her zorse was her steed to mingle, mostly due to Ghidorah's aggression and bulk. As they slowly but steadily approached Meereen she also asked Missandei of her knowledge, the former slave speaking of how she had visited the great city at the behest of her dead Master. One thousand slaves died to plant the bricks of the Great Pyramid and now an army of freed slaves were descending upon Meereen and the Great Masters of Slavers Bay. She would strip them bare, until their silks and jewels were torn asunder to reveal their rotten insides, be it by tooth and claw or sword and steel.
Daenerys eyed the walls of Meereen, which towered over everything as she and her army steadily marched towards the gates. High above in the distance she could see the glint of gold from the great harpy statue situated at the top of the Great Pyramid, over eight hundred feet above. Her striped one snorted, shaking her white and black mane as Daenerys urged the zorse along next to the column of marching Unsullied.
The city was larger than Yunkai and Astapor combined, the great walls better maintained than Astapor and taller than Yunkai. Unlike the yellow and red bricks of the other slaver cities, the bricks which made up the great walls of Meereen were of all colours. This was the home of the Great Masters, with the harpy watching over them all.
"The harpy is a craven thing," Daario had snorted when they crested the far hills to spy the glint of the golden statue within the distance. "She has a woman's heart and a chicken's legs. Small wonder her sons hide behind their walls."
Barristan and Jorah stayed close as they made their way to the plains before the great gate, a soft breeze stirring the bells in Daenerys' hair. The gates were flanked by two great harpies carved from stone, etched from the jutting rock landscape itself much like the walls. Above the gates and past the elaborate carvings where several outlooks where she could see the citizens of Meereen were beginning to flock even as her army moved into formation behind her. There were also bronze harpy heads scattered through the walls- a means to pour boiling pitch to any siege army below.
When they were just out of range of any long bows, Daenerys dismounted in a smooth movement with one of her khalasar tugging her zorse away once she was firmly upon the sun baked ground. She looked up at the gathering crowd upon the wall- even from a distance it was easy to pick out the slaves in their dull rags and large black collars compared with the vibrant robes of the nobles and masters.
Her Queensguard and council gathered behind her as Daenerys eyed the colourful brick walls critically.
"No weakness in the landward walls?" she said, "Does that mean we might attack from the river or the sea?"
"We only have three ships, Khalessi," Jorah reminded her, "And we are without siege weaponry. The slavers saw to that when they burnt every tree within twenty leagues of here."
Daenerys scowled; they may have burnt the trees but the slavers still had the wood to crucify the 163 slave children to mark the miles to Meereen. It had been a direct insult to her, both as her age but also to her intent and her army of freed slaves. The children had already died by the time they reached them, most from dehydration and exposure but, as Daenerys insisted upon looking at them all when they were removed from their hitchings, some had been partially mauled by the wild animals. She did not know if those particular children had been dead before the scavengers came for them.
"You may not like my advice, Khalessi, but I say, let this city be. You cannot free every slave in the world. Your war is in Westeros." Jorah urged her.
She swore justice for those children and it was why she refused Jorah's advice without a second thought.
"I have not forgotten Westeros," Daenerys said, still remembering her dreams even as she continued with, "But if I let Meereen's walls defeat me so easily how will I ever take the great stone castles of Westeros? Much less the Iron Throne?"
"As Aegon did," Jorah said, "Through fire and blood. By the time we reach the Seven Kingdoms your dragon will be grown. And we will have the needed siege towers and trebuchets as well, all the things we lack here… but the way across the Lands of the Long Summer is long and gruelling, and there are dangers we cannot know waiting for us. You stopped at Astapor to buy an army, not to start a war. Save your spears and swords for the Seven Kingdoms, my queen. Leave Meereen to the Meereenese and march west for Pentos."
"Defeated?" the words tasted foul in her mouth and she felt an answering thrum of anger from high above.
"When cowards hide behind great walls it is they who are defeated, Khaleesi," Aggo said, giving the towering walls a sneering look.
Her other bloodriders concurred. "Blood of my blood," said Rakharo, "When cowards hide and burn the food and fodder, great khals must seek for braver foes. This is known. There will be foes for you to spill their guts and singe their flesh other where, to bring you more bells for your hair."
"Not to me." Daenerys considered Jorah's advice high among her council but to leave Meereen untouched was more than she could stomach. She could not forget the children on their posts, the birds tearing at their entrails, their skinny dead arms pointing up the coast road. Most had their very eyes plucked from their heads from the scavengers. Her tone was still cold as she asked, "Ser Jorah, you say we have no food left. If I march west how can I feed my freedmen?"
"You can't. I am sorry, Khaleesi. They must feed themselves or starve. Many and more will die along the march, yes. That will be hard but there is no way to save them. We need to put this scorched earth well behind us. It is as it is."
"No," she said. "I will not march my people off to die." My children. "Not when they put their faith and lives in my hands. There must be some way into this city."
Then the groan of the great gates opening echoed through the air, putting an end to their talking.
"Are they attacking?" Daenerys asked, watching the gates intently.
"A single rider," Jorah said, staying close by her side even as they watched a colourfully clad man appear forth upon the back of a white stallion, "A champion of Meereen. They want you to send your own champion up against him."
Hollering and cheers boomed forth from the crowd of spectators, Daenerys' own army remaining silent as the man galloped his stallion across the plain until his horse was prancing only feet from the Unsullied line. The man was colourful and brazen, his charger pawing at the ground. A great lance of fourteen feet was held in one hand as he spurred his stallion back and forth.
Her bloodriders were eager to accept the challenge upon behalf of their Khalessi to the point they nearly came to blows over their quarrel. Daenerys put a swift end to that; she was not about to risk her bloodriders, as they were in charge of her khalasar and small cavalry, along with being her best scouts.
Jorah was hardly impressed as the champion began his yelling and mocking of them, "Let him prance back and forth and screech himself hoarse. He does us no harm."
Barristan disagreed, "Wars are not won with spears and swords alone, Your Grace. Two armies may be equal but one may break and flee whilst the other stands. This champion builds courage in the hearts of his own and plants the seeds of doubt within our own."
"And if our champion were to lose, what sort of seed would that plant?"
"A man who lives in fear of loss wins no victories, ser," Barristan countered just as easily.
"Meereen will not open their gate if that fool falls," Jorah argued, "There is naught to risk."
"There is honour, i would say."
"I have heard enough," Daenerys' violet eyes flicked to the spectators, many of whom were screaming encouragements to the champion, and then up further to the blue sky above before she turned back to her Queensguard, "I have something to say to the people of Meereen. First, I will need this one to be quiet."
They could not wait beyond the plains for too long. When the Great Masters had withdrawn to their walls they had burned their crops and fields while poisoning their wells in their retreat. Less than a quarter of those in Daenerys' host was of soldiers and they had to take the city or starve. While the Unsullied may stand and die in such a way without protest she did not care for it and refused to let those who followed her suffer in such a way. Already her camp was being erected beyond the hills before Meereen in preparation for a siege but Daenerys knew they would only last two weeks at the absolute most before starvation set in. Much like when crossing the Red Waste, she must be strong for her people so they could draw their own strength from her.
"His name is Oznak zo Pahl," Brown Ben Plumm remarked, from where he was standing next to Daario, "His uncle is of the Great Masters, one of the richest men in Meereen. If that means anything, Your Grace. He is of the master's stock."
Said man dismounted his white charger even as they watched, before urinating in her direction much to the hollered approval of the watchers.
"Shall I cut it off for you and stuff it in his mouth, Your Grace?" Daario offered, his teeth a flash among his blue beard as he spun a sword lazily in one hand.
"No," she said, scowling heavily. She couldn't linger much further or appear weak but she couldn't risk Daario either- he controlled the Stormcrows, many of whom had followed the slain captains. If he died there was a risk they would turn upon her and she could not have such discord in her army.
"Allow me this honour, Mother of Dragons," Grey Worm spoke to her in Valyrian, "I will not disappoint you."
Daenerys' voice was calm as she rebuked him, "You are the commander of the Unsullied. I cannot risk you."
"Send me, Your Grace," Barristan then offered, "I have won more single combats than any man alive."
"Which is why you must remain by my side," Daenerys said.
"Then send me," Jorah stepped forward, eyes earnest, "I've been by your side longer than any of them, Khaleesi. Let me stand for you today as well."
"You are my most trusted advisor, my most valued general, and my dearest friend," Daenerys said gently, "I will not gamble with your life."
Her gaze flitted over them in turn; Brown Ben Plumm and Strong Belwas were two she could risk, especially Strong Belwas as he was not a commander, did not lead troops or give her council. He was of her Queensguard but that was all he was. The pit fighter would be the best one to place her bet upon, and if he did fall in combat taking the life of a former slave would grant the champion no prestige. And if he won, then they would see the nephew of the richest Great Master in the city die to a former slave's blade. Even now Strong Belwas was in the middle of eating a sausage, seemingly oblivious to all else and a part of her was curious as to what kind of protector the hulking eunuch truly was.
But another idea settled within Daenerys mind, slithering around her mind like a snake. She felt an answering thrum of approval and so turned to her Queensguard to say, "And I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the Mother of Dragons. My child shall fight for me."
Missandei's face remained neutral as was Grey Worm's. The rest were not as composed. Strong Belwas, Daario, Brown Pen Plumm and her bloodriders looked curious and intrigued at her declaration, while Barristan and Jorah were far more skeptical.
"Khalessi, perhaps that is not-" Jorah began.
"I have made my choice," Daenerys said in a voice that brooked no argument. Across the plains the champion of Meereen had gotten back onto his charger, the horse snorting and the man still shouting out crude insults towards her.
Above, the dark shape that appeared to be little more than a bird to any unfamiliar abruptly folded its spiky wings and dived faster than any loosened arrow. The crowd, so fixated upon the prancing, mocking champion and Daenerys and her host, didn't notice the golden dragon until it was too late; cheers turned to screams even as Ghidorah flared out his wings in a great swoop but by then he was already upon the Meereenese champion like a hawk upon a rabbit.
The jaws of Ghidorah's left and right heads snapped shut on Oznak zo Pahl arms, the fangs sinking through armour deep into flesh. With a great flap of his wings, Ghidorah bore the screaming man aloft as the white horse ran until the dragon alighted upon the ground next to Daenerys. She moved out of the way to avoid being knocked over by his wings, the rest of her Queensguard scuttling backwards to avoid the golden dragon's tails as he landed in a gust of air and dust.
Ghidorah kept his wings partially flared out and Daenerys forward until she was slightly to his right side. Long fangs tightened, blood splattering onto the dry earth below even as Ghidorah's middle head reared back like a snake about to strike, teeth bared. She thought she could hear Daario laughing behind them but Daenerys ignored it, even as blood began to seep across the ground towards her feet. The man caught in Ghidorah's grip was shrieking and Daenerys both heard and saw his forearms splinter underneath her child's unyielding grip.
Lips curling Daenerys stood proud, violet eyes burning as she called, "Jelmazmar!"
Eyes flaring crimson, Ghidorah's middle head inhaled sharply before vomiting forth a great stream of lightning upon the man in his grip. The screams turned nothing as the champion's flesh was burned black in a nigh instant, colourful armour glowing red before his whole body seemed to burst into ash, leaving only his severed arms behind, still left in Ghidorah's other mouths. Now it was Daenerys' people screaming, even as Ghidorah snapped his jaw shut as Oznak zo Pahl was now ash and charred bits of armour and bone scattered across the ground before the golden dragon. His left and right head swallowed down the disembodied arms, long necks bobbing like birds swallowing worms.
And so was the end of the Meereenese champion.
Let them look upon the ash of their slain champion, killed by the dragons who have come for them, Daenerys thought viciously. Arrows landed harmless upon the baked earth several feet from Daenerys and her child, Ghidorah making a harsh, hacking noise at the action that could only be seen as mocking.
She stepped forward, gently touching Ghidorah's shoulder and with an easy movement he shifted so his middle neck was resting upon the ground, the right arched up so she could duck underneath until she was straddling his neck, the backs of her thighs and shins resting against his scales. Already a single neck was nearly as wide as her zorse's back and she gripped the spikes at his neck as Ghidorah reared up upon his hind legs, great golden wings stretched out and blood dripping from his left and right head as he hissed.
Remembering her lessons with Ser Barristan, Daenerys pitched her voice to be heard to those watching her at Meereen's wall among the ramparts as she called out to them in High Valyrian.
"I am Daenerys Stormborn and this is my child, Ghidorah. Your Masters may have told you lies about me or they may have told you nothing! It does not matter. I have nothing to say to them. I speak only to you!"
From this distance she couldn't see the details of those watching her upon the wall but she could see the slaves in their drab clothing, weathered from the sun and elements unlike their sheltered and lavished masters. Her throat was beginning to ache but Daenerys ignored it to continue, "First, I went to Astapor. Those who were slaves in Astapor now stand behind me, free."
She gestured out with a hand towards the Unsullied, Ghidorah mimicking her movement with a great leathery wing as he let out a warbling screech to emphasise her words. The Unsullied beat their spears against their shields for a brief, rancorous moment before falling silent.
"Next, I went to Yunkai. Those who were slaves in Yunkai now stand behind me, free!"
This time her gesture was longer, to where the freemen were waiting upon the hills before Meereen and at her words shrieked and hollered even as Ghidorah called. His great spiked tails flicked back and forth, stirring up dust.
"Now I have come to Meereen," Daenerys shouted, looking back up at the silent masses watching her from the wall, "I am not your enemy. Your enemy is beside you! Your enemy steals and murders your children! Your enemy has nothing for you but chains and suffering and commands. I do not bring you commands! I bring you a choice. And I bring your enemies and masters what they deserve and that is fire and blood!"
This time, when the Meereenese archers loosened another volley of arrows at her and her child in a spiteful gesture, Ghidorah spat out a gout of lightning that destroy the projectiles mid-air much to the screaming approval of the freemen watching. Her violent eyes burned, matching Ghidorah's crimson stare as their glares raked across the masters watching them and even the slaves, who Daenerys noticed were now whispering among themselves. Some of the Great Masters had even left during her speech, scurrying back to their nests like vermin. She would dig them out yet.
At her mental request Ghidorah turned away, long tails sweeping through the ash pile that had been Oznak zo Pahl. The Unsullied formation parted like the sea as Ghidorah moved forward upon all fours until she could easily speak to her council and Queensguard without yelling; Daario still looked absolutely delighted by what he'd witnessed, as did her kos. Jorah was not as much.
"A victory without meaning," Ser Jorah cautioned her, taking care to avoid getting within reach of Ghidorah even as her child started to lick the blood from his jaws with his fellow heads. "We will not win Meereen by killing its defenders one at a time."
"No," Daenerys agreed, still sitting easily upon Ghidorah's neck as her hands rubbed at his golden scales, "but I'm pleased we killed this one. Now, it is time we retired to my pavilion to draw forth our plans to make this city fall."
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