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Published:2020-04-25Updated:2026-04-06Words:409,591Chapters:71/?Comments:5,539Kudos:6,021Bookmarks:1,661Hits:467,442
The Stormborn and the Stormbringer
SkilledWarriorKiwi
Chapter 57: Subdue
Summary:
🎄 merry xmas!
Chapter Text
It took over a month before Daenerys was satisfied with the state of Qarth to leave it in the hands of the new council.
Quaithe had swiftly passed on the message and before the week had finished ships bearing the Targaryen sigil came to the Qarth port. They spilled forth into the claimed city, and Daenerys was pleased with Missandei's choices. The scribe had not accompanied the ships but the captain came bearing a letter sealed with the wax imprint of a butterfly.
In the week leading up to the ships however, Daenerys refused any offer of hospitality and simply slept in the remains of the Hall of a Thousand Thrones and under Ghidorah's close watch. She did not trust any Sorrowful Man to not try killing her while she only had her son and Blackfyre for protection.
With the arrival of the Stalwart Shields and numerous freemen Daenerys felt comfortable enough to take lodgings in one of the nearby mansion whose latticework ceiling was home to a thousand gaily colored birds that fled when Ghidorah followed her to coil around the building, even as she disappeared inside to discuss events with Tal Toraq, leader of the Stalwart Shields, and those sent by Missandei. Leaders, ones who had been freed and understood the toil of wrangling a conquered slaver city. That had been with her in Meereen, and had watched the blood be spilled, grow dry, and then spilled again. Merchants, commanders, soldiers, accountants, a family of bakers and nearly a dozen scribes, of the group there was much diversity as all limbs of the tree must be pruned. They had come prepared, with Tal Toraq and the Stalwart Shields as their guard.
With greetings to Daenerys, and the representatives of the Pureborn, Brotherhood, Thirteen and Guild, she extended her pleasure in their quick and safe arrival and then listened as they explained their plans. Each group would have their own personal guard of Stalwart Shields for their protection and Tal Toraq settled in the building adjacent to her so he could keep a close eye upon his soldiers and swiftly deal with any trouble that may rise. Daenerys was suspicious of how much hospitality Qarth was offering but kept her worries private, only sharing it with the leader of the Stalwart Shields who readily agreed. The Summer Islander was no stranger to tricks and poisoned smiles and was keeping himself vigilant, even with a food taster that Daenerys insisted upon for him. She could live off her travel rations in her saddlebags for long enough, it was mediocre but easily bearable.
To Daenerys's slight surprise with the arrival of ships a red priestess had departed to meet her. The woman had skin the colour of squid ink and a shaven skull, tattoos of flames adorning her high cheekbones and billowing robes of crimson and embroidered with flames of orange and yellow. Despite the sharp contrast in physical appearance, Daenerys noted that Una had the same sharp old eyes that Kinvara possessed which did not match her youthful features.
Una greeted Daenerys closely, as if they were kin, and the woman's hands had been warm and soft as she kissed the ring upon Daenerys finger. Then she curtseyed with as much grace as any highborn lady to Ghidorah, who approved of the respectful act. Una also bore a message from Benerro, the high priest of R'hllor at the Red Temple in the free city of Volantis. The parchment was scorched at the edges, and the ink was a gleaming glossy black.
Speaking of her coming, hailing her as Azor Ahai reborn, the One who was Promised. That the darkness of the coming Long Night shall flee before her, that her coming was an ancient prophecy called into being. That her triumph over darkness will bring a summer that will never end and death itself will bend its knee, and all those who die fighting in her cause shall be reborn.
Daenerys had heard much the same from Kinvara, so the contents of the letter were not overly surprising. She had gotten word from Volantis before saying much the same.
Yet the sign off upon the letter made Daenerys uneasy.
R'hllor who gave us breath, we thank you. R'hllor who gave us day, we thank you. We will be ready for your glorious arrival, beloved wife of R'hllor and will give you loving tribute when you arrive to Volantis. Your children eagerly await. Your faithful servant, Benerro of the Flame of Truth and Light of Wisdom.
The seal at the bottom was of a heart painted in the colour of blood, encased in twisting flames of yellow and orange.
It was a warm welcome, calling her to Volantis with open arms. Yet she knew of the red priests methods and she still found the idea of being beloved of a god to be more disquieting than anything else. Yet she could not deny the might the red faith possessed within Essos; Volantis was its heart, but it had spread far and wide across the great land and with ever more fervour with every passing year. She knew it had even reached Westeros, though Stannis Baratheon seemed fire-mad. It was still easy for her to remember her time in Pentos, as Illyrio's guest, when the sky would grow dark she would hear the red priests chanting.
Volantis was a place ripe with the red faith, in the passing months she knew the tensions between the slaves and masters of the city were reaching boiling point. Having their slaves preach that the Breaker of Chains was favoured by their god would no doubt irritate the slave masters to the greatest point. She could only hope the slaves protected themselves, even as they fought off their chains. She would come to them, she would. But first, she must settle Qarth so they would not have to fear attacks from the rear as they focused on the front. She could not let the twisting vines of slavery ensnare them.
Daenerys had learned hash lessons in Meereen and her march through Dragon's Bay, and she applied those lessons in the coming days as she collaborated with her people.
After the third incident involving poisoned drink Daenerys lost her patience and dragged forth all the Pureborn to enact the trials as she had once done so to the Great Masters of Meereen. Every single one of them was summarily executed baring one; an old man who hadn't his wits about him and spent most of his day tended to by slaves who he constantly mistook for his children and grandchildren. He was spared, while every other Pureborn were dragged into the remnants of the Hall of a Thousand Thrones and killed. The dust left over from Ghidorah's breath joined the shattered remains of the ancient thrones.
Daenerys took note how the Thirteen, the Tourmaline Brotherhood, and the Ancient Guild of Spicers were extremely eager to curry favour with her after that incident and brought her daily reports and bragging of how they were helping the newly freed slaves. Long had they fought and pressed against the Pureborn, who nominally ruled Qarth for centuries. After their utter destruction it was left for the three grand groups to divvy up the city and grasp for any power they could. Daenerys also annihilating the Pureborn was a severe enough warning to the remaining three to step wisely and warily around her; no more poison followed but Daenerys still permitted Una to keep a close eye upon her food and drink.
At the least, the maegi's ability to sense any tampered food made her feel secure and after those incidents the woman was a persistent presence at her side. Daenerys did not overly mind the escort even if she was still wary of the red faith. They were volatile just like the flames they worshiped, prone to burning everything around them if the mood took to them, but she was a dragon and found comfort in fire.
And also the flaming heart reminded her of Aethaer, the Valyrian God of Creation and Goddess of Destruction. The first flame, white and flickering and filled with every colour. Perhaps Viserys had been right- he had always been of the opinion the Seven were facets of a single god, divided into pieces so that man might understand. Even if Aethaer was not R'hllor, perhaps they were close enough of one another it did not even matter. After all, how could a mortal claim to know the mind of a god? It would be akin to an ant trying to comprehend a dragon, unknowable and impossible.
The following day Daenerys met with the Tourmaline Brotherhood and discussed their shipping lines and ports. The Brotherhood controlled over eight hundred ships and Qarth was ever a traders city, and she took enough of her people to force deeper negotiations. She knew Qarth had supplied the slavery alliance who assaulted Meereen so she knew those smiling liars would just as eagerly slide a dagger across her throat as speak to her. Ghidorah's relentless presence within the city kept the niceties, as he still dwelled within the broken Hall of a Thousand Thrones or would follow her in the air when she reached the districts.
Luckily enough after the death of the Pureborn the remaining slave masters of Qarth realized they preferred to be less rich through releasing their slaves and alive to spend their gold rather than rich and dead.
Daenerys did make it extremely clear to each and every one she spoke to after the executions, that if she left Qarth and her people ceased sending her letters and updates or she found of them rebuking her as Yunkai had done with her generosity, then there would be nothing. No mercy, no lenience, nothing but death. She would kill Qarth as she had done to the other cities, would raze them to a skeleton-clogged city filled with only ghosts as she had New Ghis.
She had known she had to take the cities Ghidorah had destroyed as her own the moment she had heard of the incidences, and now they were certainly enough weight that none saw her words as idle threats.
Each night she retired back to the manor next to the broken Hall of a Thousand Thrones, either resting in the garden or sitting up in the lofty balcony before heading to bed. It was a far cry from the Great Pyramid of Meereen, and heavy flowering vines covered one wall of the estate so the air always smelled sweet, and when she looked down to the silver street below there was a elaborate fountain wrought in the shape of a griffin.
When she wasn't twisting some sense of decency from the Qartheen, she was exploring the great markets winding throughout the veins of the city. It reminded Daenerys of when she first arrived in Qarth, Ghidorah small enough he could be carried in her arms but now when she was in one of the sprawling markets she could see his golden figure within the broken Hall of a Thousand Thrones. The ground floor of her mansion was filled with offerings from people attempting to curry favour, but she still enjoyed walking down to one of the nearest markets that thrived throughout the city and explore the various exotics wares.
Several of the Stalwart Shields accompanied her, as did Una in her crimson robes with threads of gold. The maegi seemed content to mostly observe, hands folded across her front even as the heated sun gleamed off her shaven scalp.
When Daenerys stopped at a stall with one of the Jogos Nhai, greeting the man warmly and passing along her thanks again for the gift she had received back in Qarth upon her first arrival. Her striped one, her favoured steed, which she was still quite fond of. The man seemed quite pleased with her words, even as she moved on through the market.
"Wine, for the silver queen?" one woman offered her. "Tis from the Jade Sea, Yi Ti itself. Sake, they call it. Warm and dry, it is quite a fascinating taste and not much like the ones here."
Una immediately sidled forward, taking the small glass from the woman's tattooed hand. A brief pause before the maegi nodded, passing the glass to Daenerys who accepted.
The wine not like any wine she had tasted before; slightly sweet, fruity and with a subtle floral flavour. She passed the glass back with a smile, but did not buy a flask despite the offer.
The next was a sprawling table and Daenerys recognized many of the games spread out upon it, including a cyvasse set. The pieces were made of obsidian and gold, with the rabble, sparemen and crossbowmen inlaid with jade and beryl and tourmaline, the light and heavy horses of amber and opal and amethyst, the elephant studded with rubies and sapphires, the king laden with emeralds. And the dragon, studded with white diamonds that glittered with all the colours of the rainbow, and carved with three heads and twin tails. Each piece was as tall as her little finger.
Daenerys was sorely tempted to buy the set, but practicality wore out; they would most likely not survive being in Ghidorah's saddle and she could buy a set when she returned to Meereen.
In the coming weeks, Daenerys took to the markets as a means to see the people of the city when she was not wrangling the Qartheen nobility and merchant princes in their lavish estates surrounded by elaborate fountains and gilded marble statues. There were some instants of turmoil, mostly a Sorrowful Man who tried to sneak into her manse only to be eaten alive by Ghidorah. The Tourmaline Brotherhood were quick to grab one of their own and name him the one who hired the assassin, and Daenerys had the sobbing man and his wife dragged before her within the broken shell of the Hall of a Thousand Thrones and executed.
Then she went to where the ancient guild of assassins were located, telling the mysterious hole in the door if any other assassins came creeping in the night she'd rip down their stone towers and feed their broken bodies to her son and leave their company as nothing more than a myth. There were no further incidents, but she was unsure if it was due to lack of payment from the slavers or the assassins raising her contract too high or them heeding her warning. Either way she was left alone and that was good enough for her.
At the end of that week as evening fell Daenerys was sitting upon the delicate silver balcony, overlooking the city and clad in her gleaming black armour. Beyond there was the sparkle of the blue sea of the straits of Qarth, even as the sun began to dip down to kiss the horizon in a blaze of red. The month was at its end and she felt confident to leave Meereen in the coming days. The Qartheen had listened to her threats, there were no shackles or collars in Qarth and the freedmen were slowly being taught what freedom meant by their fellows. The ruling class of Qarth were wise to her promises and had not taken pains to provoke the dragon, and the Enthroned were still empty.
She wondered how long the Pureborn had ruled Qarth. And how it only took her a single day to rid the city of them. One bloody, violent instance. Though the same could be said for dragons, all it took was a single Dance and they were no more. Gone, lost through the ages, until she birthed Ghidorah upon that bone-charred pyre in what seemed like a lifetime ago.
She looked at the wall of her conquered estate, and the black banner with its crimson three headed dragon from where it was pinned to the wall.
House Targaryen will end with me.
The thought made her feel so alone and sad.
And furthermore, her failure at the Citadel meant Ghidorah was alone. Her child was uncaring of that but still, Daenerys lamented over her failure to save the hatchlings. A gift, the last piece of Valyria's legacy, and it went up in fire and blood along with the rest of the Citadel.
The Valyrian dagger was in her hand, the one taken from the wilds of the peninsula. Almost simple but still the blade was as bright and sharp as the day it was born.
Blood, blood, blood. The core of Valyria's power. Was it blood that kept the Valyrian steel so keen?
Or dragon's blood. Mixed with the smelting process.
Daenerys stared at the blade and then at the gauntlet of her Valyrian steel armour. That seemed right to her, that it was dragon's blood as part of the secret to creating Valyrian steel. Kinvara and Quaithe had used it to force a vision, Ghidorah's black blood to be tossed into the flames. It would explain why the art of forging Valyrian steel was lost when the dragonlords fell, especially since the Targaryens had been a lowborn family. It would be an experiment for another time, seeing if her idea was correct. For all she knew the forge would just exploded if introduced dragon's blood, as the fire within the Citadel had done with Lernaea's blood.
If there was further proof of blood's potency it was in the mutations of the dragon priests, scaled and horned and tailed. She wondered if any had wings- Mirri Maz Duur had mocked Daenerys with such a thing, that Rhaego had a twisted form of tail and wings.
But those were secrets she would never know, lost the same instant the Citadel died and Daenerys refused to ever go back to Valyria. She had seen its grotesque magnificence and knew it would be easy.
It would be so very easy. That was what frightened Daenerys, how so very easy it would be. To focus upon bloodmagic and its strength. Its awful, wild strength.
But she had seen the consequences; Old Valyria was proof of bloodmagic gone awry. It was an awful power, wild and strong like a raging inferno, yet one slip and it would raze the land and kill all those in its way.
Magic, her blood was thick with it and her history, even her own life had magic coiled around it like vines upon a tree. But she would never forget how it could harm as easily as help. Her husband had been killed, her child murdered within her, and her womb scarred and barren from bloodmagic and a vindictive maegi. Daenerys had learned.
It is not enough to kill a horse. By itself, the blood is nothing. You do not have the words to make a spell, nor the wisdom to find them. Do you think bloodmagic is a game for children? You call me maegi as if it were a curse, but all it means is wise. You are a child, with a child's ignorance. Whatever you mean to do, it will not work.
Mirri Maz Duur and her hateful words and actions. But she taught Daenerys a harsh and terrible lesson, one she had not forgotten and never will. One that led her to burn the witch alive at her husband's pyre and walk into the flames. One shown to her again through Old Valyria and the mines filled with a million skeletons and lingering nightmares and monsters and shades who spoke in voices of the dead. Of the dragon priests, of Lernaea. Fire and blood.
Bloodmagic was volatile and Daenerys mistrusted it simply due to the fact it would be far too easy for her to succumb to it- especially with Ghidorah's indifference to it. She had slaughtered so many, but there was a difference between battle and sacrifice. Even her executions had a cold purpose and were not to nurture a god's will. The red priests would want such a thing, Daenerys knew, for Volantis was Valyria's daughter and R'hllor and Aethaer were too alike and she did not trust in the indifference of gods.
With a sigh Daenerys stood and made her way back into her rooms, beginning the task of removing her armour. She could have called forth her guards or even Una who she knew was never too far, but focusing on slowly extracting the gleaming steel from her form helped her focus on matters besides fire and blood.
At least only temporarily, as she had a feeling Volantis would be by far the most volatile with the red priests eagerly awaiting her. As Daenerys removed her armour, slowly peeling off the firewyrm skin, her thoughts shifted from Volantis to Lys and Tyrosh. All would need to be subdued and even more others like the Dothraki, before she could think of setting her eyes upon Westeros. And who knew the state of the Seven Kingdoms by the time she reached the western edge of Essos? For all she knew that Aegon Targaryen would have taken the Iron Throne or already he could be dead and his bones rotting away somewhere for all she knew.
The vision she had in the Valyrian mines left her unsure, for she did not know if it was another trick or a hallucination or something else all together. Of the pale haired youth with the cut on his arm and confused, hesitant manner.
Yet still, as Daenerys folded up the firewyrm skin and slipped into bed, the silk sheets cool against her naked skin, she knew that even if something was a trick or phantom it could still harm. Her fingers brushed the scars upon her jaw that the shade had cut into her flesh; a beast of shadow and gleaming eyes and it had nearly killed her.
She hoped that the demon roads were not as rife with monsters such as that, but she knew the gods were not kind. But neither were they cruel, Daenerys felt. They were something else beyond petty human squabbles and she would be a fool if she tried to understand them fully and their methods. Even if it was said she was the favoured of one she still had no inclination of tempting nor provoking the gods.
But she had felt almost at ease in the shrines and before their altars. As Daenerys settled down to sleep she thought of the cyvasse set and the delicate intricate pieces. Even after leaving Valyria she knew what the Fourteen still looked like, Meleys with her draconic beauty, Arrax with his frilled form and warm topaz eyes, Balerion with his glossy black form curled within slumber. Aethaer, and the strange other-worldliness of the god's form with a head of flame and smoky body. Child of the cosmos.
There was now the desire to keep the idols of Old Valyria, of the Fourteen, close to her. She would not demand their worship as she continued her campaign across Essos, but Daenerys still felt a personal connection to the gods of yore even if all other dragonlords, even House Targaryen itself, had forgotten them as nothing more than mere names. They would be for her, and her alone. Coveted in a dragon's horde and perhaps she would have more dragon dreams that could aid her in the coming Long Night and the battle against the Great Other and its undying children.
For while she would be wary of bloodmagic, wary of its power and the ease it would come to her and how it had harmed her before, she still knew of its strength and what had been told to her in the flame before. Daenerys was not beholden nor chained by her past, but only a fool would ignore it and lessons learnt within.
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