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Published:2020-04-25Updated:2026-04-06Words:409,591Chapters:71/?Comments:5,539Kudos:6,021Bookmarks:1,663Hits:467,571
The Stormborn and the Stormbringer
SkilledWarriorKiwi
Chapter 65: Home once
Summary:
Ramblings
Notes:
Hope you've all been having a great easter! 🐰
Chapter Text
The Dragonmont was a great volcano that was seen upon all corners of the isle. Pale grey steam coiled up from the dozens of vents pockmarking the black rock, and the peak was constantly smoldering. The air stank of brimstone and sulfur, with an ever-present undercurrent of the sea. The island itself was in jagged rocks, bushy fields with scrubby grass and knotted trees, with the earth frequently bent and twisted by spikes into hills and small peaks yet towering over it all was the Dragonmont, the volcano able to be seen no matter where one stood upon the isle.
The castle of Dragonstone was a small fortress situated at the face of the smoking mountain, with villages piled up beneath it. Farmers and fishermen mostly, with a respectable sized port dotted with taverns, inn, and whorehouses along the dockside streets. Several ships were moored at the stretched docks, and one of her vessels were bearing down upon it with her personalized herald snapping in the warm wind.
Ghidorah liked the warmth. He was entirely neutral towards cold and icy weather unless it was a thunderstorm which he adored beyond all else, but the heated air of the isle of Dragonstone was to his favour nonetheless. It meant he needed to beat his wings far less, the warm currents helping his immense weight stay airborne, while the sunlight shimmered across his golden scales as they circled the isle.
Daenerys had debated long and hard with how she wished to greet King Aegon, and eventually she and Missandei decided that she would fly upon Ghidorah instead of upon the ship yet she would fly without her Valyrian armour. She was the first dragonrider in generations, and she bore that title with pride but she did not wish to be armoured as if heading to war.
Blackfyre was another debate but after some thought she left it under lock and key like her armour, mostly out of wariness it could be stolen. She still had several daggers concealed upon her person, just in case.
She had been in steadfast communication with the newly crowned king of Westeros, when Missandei brought forth the information she was gathering with the response to their initial letter. With the turning news of King's Landing falling and the coronation. Of the dragons.
Daenerys had been overjoyed when she learned of the new hatchlings, writing nearly seventeen pages in response to the missive. Full of advice and her own experience in raising Ghidorah, along with inquiries and questions.
The king's response was just as long. They also traded paintings of their respective dragons, even if Ghidorah seemed fairly disinterested when she showed him the images of the three hatchlings. Daenerys appreciated it nonetheless.
Even if Ser Barristan encouraged caution in the exchanges; he did not believe Aegon was anything other than a pretender, vehement in the idea that Aegon, son of Princess Elia and Prince Rhaegar, had died in King's Landing. He was insistent that Aegon was a branch of the Blackfyres, vindicated by the fact he held the support of the Golden Company. A pretender, a mummers dragon. One using the name of a murdered infant to try and bolster his legitimacy.
Missandei then said if Aegon was a Blackfyre then he still held Targaryen blood, due to the origin being the Great Bastard Daemon Blackfyre who was son of King Aegon the Unworthy. Missandei then also pointed out of the king's dying verdict to legitimize all of this bastard children which resulted in the five bloody rebellions.
"The Blackfyre pretenders troubled the Targaryens for five generations until I slew the last, Maelys the Monstrous, upon the Stepstones," Ser Barristan had said.
"And your loyalty to our House has held true through many hardships," Daenerys said, speaking for the first since since the argument had begun. "Yet at this point I see no reason to brood over speculations. He has dragons and that is enough for me. I have no desire to seek out the Iron Throne. The Seven Kingdoms has seen enough violence and bloodshed, especially with the looming Long Night upon the horizon. I will not start such a war again."
Ser Barristan accepted her words even if she could tell the old knight was not happy. Still, he had refused her offer to release him from her service if he wished to return to Westeros. His life as a knight of the Seven Kingdoms was behind him now, and he would remain in her service until the Stranger took him.
Later when it was just the two of them Missandei mentioned she did not understand why the Blackfyres were considered illegitimate if King Aegon legitimized them upon his deathbed. Their rebellions were violent certainly, fueled by ambition for the Iron Throne most definitely, but as the Naathi mused aloud Daemon Blackfyre and his issue had a legitimate claim due to being given one by the ruling king at the time. The actions of King Aegon the Unworthy weren't exactly any to emulate, in Daenerys's opinion.
But it was another thing many of Daenerys's followers, those who were once slaves, did not care about or even understand. They did not follow Daenerys because she was the descendant of Targaryen kings from a place many have never heard of. They followed her because she broke their chains and gave them the freedom to chose, and many chose her. They had seen her fight the slavery alliance to protect them, to continue her campaign across Essos and give up her dreams of her homeland to protect them, to keep them safe from sliding back into chains. For Missandei, the legitimacy of King Aegon was of no interest and as the Naathi said he seemed to have just as much claim as any if he had the power to take the Iron Throne.
That had made Daenerys think back upon Ser Jorah's words about Aegon the Conqueror, about how he took Westeros because he could. That he made each of the kings kneel or die to him, until the land became the Seven Kingdoms. He may have blood of the dragonlords of Old Valyria but they had been a lesser House. Yet to Westeros they had dragons, the last dragons, and that made them the greatest in the world when Old Valyria was lost to the Doom.
Either way she held not desire to debate the legitimacy for the reign of King Aegon the Sixth- she would never know the truth if the missive was true, about the Spider's plot in protecting Elia's child or if it was simply just a fantasy to bolster support throughout the Kingdoms.
"He has dragons," Daenerys simply said. "And that is enough for me. At least for the time being. I will be able to observe his nature soon enough. As it is I will greet him with an open hand, not a clenched fist."
Through their missives she was surprised to learn of how Aegon had hatched the three eggs in the ruins of Summerhall. When he recounted the immense curtain of stars falling, so bright it was near daylight, she realized it had occurred the same time as the collapsing of the Citadel in Valyria. The surplus of magic of the construct collapsing, as well as the explosive death of the last of the sane draconic priests, seemed to have been the same type of sign as the comet with Drogo's pyre. While she still mourned the hatchlings she had lost, there was comfort in knowing the lost eggs in Westeros had reacted to the ancient Valyrian magic.
Especially as with the exchanging of paintings she felt strongly the dragon of deep rich purple scales had belonged to Maester Aemon's egg. It saddened her, that the man hadn't lived long enough for his egg to hatch, but also gladdened her that it was one of the three which hatched. From King Aegon's other missives he had recovered the other eggs that had been used in Aegon the Unlikely's failed ritual even if they did not hatch. Seven eggs, to honor the seven gods. The four that hadn't hatched were hot to the touch, instead of being unyielding stone as their like for centuries. Daenerys was rather glad the new king had the sense to not name any of his dragons after the gods of Old Valyria, when she was told of Dawn, Yndros and Wildfyre. That was not a brand of fire she was willing to provoke.
As her campaign swept to the further reaches of Essos, towards the western coast, there was the anticipation of meeting the king even if it was mostly due to her wishing to meet the dragons. There was also her interest in Dragonstone, but they were desires that buzzed at the back of her mind compared to the grueling task of maneuvering armies and establish new infrastructure through the months as they worked to rid Essos of slavery.
Liqera, the Dosh Khaleen who had chosen to following Daenerys from the burning of khals at Vaes Dothrak, had been the one to suggest spreading the news of Ghidorah's status as the Stallion That Mounts the World throughout the horde. She said that in doing so that meant any who wished to challenge Daenerys and her claim over the Dothraki, they would in turn have to confront Ghidorah as a living embodiment of their god. The khal of khals. It would also be another way to stop the in fighting, especially with Volantis being assimilated into her empire. Dothraki were well known to be haters of maegi, and the Red priests were fervent in their regard to her. Fights were inevitable, despite her attempts to keep the various different cultures in her armies from interacting when they were at odds with each other.
It did take part in her decision to leave the Dothraki- barring her personal khalasar and bloodriders -in Essos under Daario's eye as she visited Westeros. Only those who had been with her since the Red Waste seemed willing to brave the poisoned water, and she needed the rest of the horde to keep the freshly born slaver cities in check. She knew they would stray given the chance.
For the Red faith, she only had Una accompanying her while Kinvara had sought her permission to head north where one of her sisters were. Daenerys gave her blessings, especially as Kinvara would accompany the ships and supplies that were sent to the Watch as a sign of good faith. More of the R'hllor priests had gone with the ships, to help wade through the worsening sea storms and she wished them good fortune.
Part of the reason she must hasten good relations with Westeros, with the Others eyeing the land beyond the Wall. Even if she had to fend off inquiries as to her trothed status, especially when she received the more formal letters from the King's Hand, Jon Connington. This was a man Ser Barristan did not doubt and even confirmed the man's loyalty to Prince Rhaegar before the miserly end to Robert's Rebellion. The rumours held he had died to drunkenness, with his beloved silver prince dead, but instead he was safeguarding a secret babe. More tales Daenerys was unsure as to the truth but Ser Connington certainly existed, that much she knew.
Still, the man was very forward in inquiring if she were partial to marriage to King Aegon. In another time, another life, perhaps she would have thought upon it or even accepted it. But Westeros was not for her, she had made her choice in Volantis. She would visit, certainly, but never stay. It was as lost to her as Old Valyria was lost to Aenar so many centuries ago. It was something that nipped at her as the moon turned and King Aegon officially invited her to Westeros, to first meet her upon their ancestral hold of Dragonstone and then travel to King's Landing together. An invitation Daenerys accepted.
And so now she was circling Dragonstone upon Ghidorah's back, about to meet with the King of the Seven Kingdoms as Empress of Essos.
Daenerys could not remember her time upon Dragonstone as a babe; they had been forced to run, before the Usurper's brother could hunt them down with his rebuilt fleet. The garrison had been traitors, plotting to hand her and Viserys over and it was only due to the diligence of Ser Willem Darry and four others breaking into the nursery to spirit them away to safety in the middle of the night did they even survive.
The Targaryen fortress was of ill repute, a grim citadel upon the damp isle surrounded by salt and sea with a smouldering mountain at its back.
From their altitude high above the isle Daenerys could see the entirety of Dragonstone; The entire fortress seemed to be forged from dragons coiled upon one another of a dark glossy stone, much like the buildings of Old Valyria or even Xaro's vault from Qarth. Sconces in the shape of twisted dragon claws, great fanged maws holding doors, tails creating archways and bridges, huge wings covering the forms of smithies that had their chimneys smoldering even in the oddly quiet expanse of the castle. Great towers watched the sea in the forms of dragons upon their haunches, the rookery mouth was flanked by great twisted gargoyles in the form of a wyvern and hellhound. More gargoyles, carved in the shape of other fantastical creatures, were scattered about the castle.
The Stone Drum, Dragonstone's central keep, loomed over it all; named for the noise the ancient stone made when storms assailed the castle, it was fortified by two inner walls and black-iron gates with ever more gargoyles. Yet still it was short compared to the Great Pyramid of Meereen, even if she much favoured the carvings of dragons over that of the harpy. Within its highest floor would be the Chamber of the Painted Table, the ancient room of war and where Aegon and his sister-wives plotted their conquest of Westeros.
She recognized some of the other structures of the castle within the curtain wall by description alone; the immense kitchens which resembled a slumbering dragon with smoke billowing from its nostrils, that great hall that was a dragon sprawled out on its belly, maw open wide to show the heavy red doors caged between ancient stone fangs, she could see the top of Aegon's garden with tall dark trees rising high with lines of thick thorny hedges, with the garden lurking behind the tail of the Stone Drum. As Ghidorah tilted his wings she thought she could see King Aegon and his entourage down below, just exiting the ancient oaken doors of the Stone Drum, but Ghidorah's speed meant the glimpse was lost just as quick.
As Ghidorah flapped his wings, she saw the purple-and-black dragon perched upon the Sea Dragon Tower, upon the head while the tower's jaws lolled up to show the rookery within the fangs. The huge stone beast was carved with a placid expression matching the calm manner the wyrm looked up towards Ghidorah as the gigantic golden dragon flared out his wings with a noise like thunder. The dragon was small, barely any larger than a warhorse, and Ghidorah would be able to swallow it whole. Ghidorah snorted out a breath from all three heads, crimson forked tongues flicking as his mood shifted and roiled like clouds.
Ghidorah circled the Sea Dragon Tower once, twice, before a horn rang out from the port down below; her ship had finally docked, the people stepping onto the wharf, and she would have to rejoin her entourage. Part of her flight upon Ghidorah was due to the fact he was faster than any ship, and her own curiosity to see Dragonstone from dragonback. The last to do so would have been Princess Rhaena Targaryen, upon the pink-scaled Morning.
With another loop around the tower, Ghidorah then glided down over the castle and down to the docks. The broad expanse of beach near the sea-side village could bear his wingspan, as Daenerys did not wish to overstep in her first formal visit to Westeros by trying to find the ancient landing caverns of the Targaryen dragonriders. That could be a task for a later date.
His flight was languid and slow, even as the bellow of more horns sounded from the castle. The volcano continued to smolder above them all even as in the far distance of the isle Daenerys thought she could see two barbed shapes flying about.
The ground shuddered as Ghidorah landed, folded wings and feet gouging deep marks in the sand. To one side was multi coloured stone cliffs rising over them, to the other the endless expanse of the ocean. To their front was the squat village of the isle. There was some yelling and pointing from the village but none tried to draw close even as Ghidorah settled down upon his belly. With practiced movements Daenerys dismounted, chains rattling as she landed lightly upon the sand.
Daenerys was clad in practical riding clothes; a riding hood with a long coat of black taffeta with the inner fabric being crimson silk with the hood drawn up to keep her braided hair neat in the wind. Embroidered upon the back of the long cloak was her personal herald, the three-headed, two-tailed dragon edged in gold and spitting lightning. She wore riding breeches of dark lambskin leather, with gleaming black boots. Her doublet was just as dark but embroidered with flying dragons with ruby buttons and golden edging. Black and red, the colours of House Targaryen, and here she was standing upon her House's ancestral home with a dragon at her back.
The last time she was upon Dragonstone was as a babe, born in the worst storm in living memory. Tiny, squalling, helpless.
She could have been Princess of Dragonstone, if not for the bloody end of her family, yet if she had done so she never would have had her son. If her family hadn't been butchered, if her husband hadn't been poisoned, if Rhaego hadn't been murdered. All those sacrifices finally cracked open to herald Ghidorah, born in fire and blood while she was born amidst salt and sea.
Staring down at the sand, Daenerys slowly shifted into a crouch. She tugged a glove free, hand lingering a few inches above the ground before she touched the wet sand. She wondered if it was the same as Aenar or even Aegon the Conqueror, or if centuries of storm and the surf had gnawed at the island and changed the state and shape of the beach from each age to the next. She had heard it happen before, raging weather ripping away cliffs and stealing entire sand dunes away amidst storm and hail.
Ghidorah's breath was hot at her back, making her cloak flutter, as his long necks coiled about like snakes. Sunlight glinted off his golden form, chips of light dancing across the beach. Daenerys rubbed her fingers together, the sand grainy and damp. After a moment she shook off the swell of melancholia that threatened to choke her, a sharp ache in her abdomen, before she took in a deep breath of the salty air.
If I look back I am lost.
Straightening up, Daenerys briskly cleaned her hand of sand before slipping her glove back on and starting the short trek towards the docks where her entourage awaited. And from there, King Aegon and Dragonstone itself.
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