Main Content
Archive of Our OwnArchive of Our OwnHi, TheBrimmedHat!PostLog Out
FandomsBrowseSearchAboutWork Search
tip: "uchiha sasuke/uzumaki naruto" angst kudos>10
Actions
Entire Work ← Previous Chapter Next Chapter → Chapter Index Edit Bookmark Mark for Later Comments Hide Creator's Style Share Download
Work Header
Rating:
Teen And Up Audiences
Archive Warnings:
Graphic Depictions Of ViolenceMajor Character Death
Category:
Gen
Fandoms:
Game of Thrones (TV)Godzilla - All Media TypesA Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. MartinA Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Characters:
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
Additional Tags:
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)
Language:
English
Collections:
✨An Assortment of DAMN Good Fics✨, Earth Shakers - World Makers, Shady GoT Faves (Including Crossovers), JNW1'S favourite ASOIAF/GoT fics
Stats:
Published:2020-04-25Updated:2026-04-06Words:409,591Chapters:71/?Comments:5,537Kudos:6,020Bookmarks:1,659Hits:467,009
The Stormborn and the Stormbringer
SkilledWarriorKiwi
Chapter 26: Bones of steel
Chapter Text
The sun was hot and the wind was sweet when they awoke.
Daenerys was tucked within Ghidorah's neck, coiled around her like a serpent with her face pressed against the scaly skin of his brow. A wing was tucked over them, making the sunlight gold when she opened her eyes.
And Blackfyre was clutched in her hands, blood crusted upon the hilt that was clenched in her grip. Her wounded palm was now barely an ache, even when she clenched her fist. When Daenerys raised her face from its golden pillow, the ruby set within the hilt shimmered in dozens of glittering facets like crystal shards. She felt rested, safe tucked underneath her child's great wings in a way she couldn't remember. Her eyes felt gritty and she clutched Blackfyre tighter against her like a child with a favoured toy.
She had it. She had the founding sword of House Targaryen. It was not some wild dream and Daenerys hugged the sword against her chest. Fleeing from Pentos had seemed like a fever dream at the time, naught but focused on pulling those bolts from her child with the taste of flesh and blood in her mouth before she succumbed to sleep next to Ghidorah's side. But now she was awake and aware and she had Blackfyre and her child by her side.
Ghidorah's head stirred beneath her, great scaled sides flexing as he huffed out a breath. She tapped on his side and the great wing lifted away as she swayed to her feet, two of Ghidorah's heads yawning in unison as the left remained resting. The right had remained alert, her child's heads sleeping in shifts to prevent any chance of ambush. She got to her feet, feeling the bones in her spine click as she stretched. However when she looked up at the sky she was confused then surprised by the placement of the sun; they had slept an entire day, straight through the night and now it was late morning for the next day. They'd been more tired than she anticipated but now they felt both well rested.
It was another day of siege and death at Meereen as well, if Strickland's words could be trusted. Daenerys did not know if a sellsword's words could but the masters had been plotting beneath her long enough that she could believe in that threat alone. She could only have faith that Missandei, Barristan and Grey Worm were still protecting the city in her absence, for she had learned much on her flight across Essos. And gained more.
Daenerys raised Blackfyre, the black blade shimmering like viscous pitch as she turned it to and fro as the chains around her waist clinked. She was slight enough she needed to hold the sword two-handed but for its length and elaborate crossguard it was light and easy to wield. That was due of Valyrian steel, lighter and brighter and always honed to an edge. Other Houses had Valyrian steel swords and they were much coveted, even lost and stolen over the years.
Ghidorah watched her as she took some clumsy swings, trying to remember all the times she'd watched Viserys practice with his own sword when she'd been a child. She had not been allowed to train along with her brother. When she'd gotten older and Viserys more bitter she made the mistake of saying Queen Visenya was a woman yet an accomplished warrior as well who stood next to Aegon the Conqueror as an equal warrior. Viserys had screamed at her and twisted his fist in her hair until she cried, yelling about how he wouldn't return to Westeros as a king who needed his little sister as a guard.
After a moment she gingerly put down the sword before going to the tiny creek. She washed the blood off her chin and face, the water lukewarm against her skin. She didn't bother trying to wash the blood from her hair, the creek too small to submerge herself. It was a tangled enough mess she'd probably have to cut the bells free but Daenerys didn't bother. She felt wild, lurking in the shade of the giant forest with a conqueror's sword and dragon watching her so she might as well look the part. As she splashed a handful of water against her brow her thoughts shifted to Meereen, to her loyal kos and khalasar, to Missandei and Grey Worm and Ser Barristan, to Daario and Strong Belwas. They would be waiting for her, she knew. Or did they fear her dead? What if she returned to Meereen to find it razed to the ground, the bodies of her companions nothing but burnt ashes left from the masters?
Off in the distance within the Qohor forest she heard a dull roar of a great elk even as the leaves and lush grass whispered in the wind. Ghidorah yawned again, stretching out his great wings and briefly blotting out the sun.
"I am the blood of dragons," Daenerys whispered to her reflection within the stream.
She filled up the waterskin as best as she was able, mud staining the side from the shallowness of the creek. Then she went to Ghidorah, intending on cleaning his wounded eye. To her relief when she checked the scaly cheek of his left head she couldn't see any fresh blood flowing from his shut eye, instead the blackened stains were as dried as the blood tangled in her hair. Nonetheless she knelt next to his head and splashed the water over Ghidorah's face, her child keeping his eye shut as she gently scrubbed at his scales with her fingers to wash away the blood. Through their bond she could sense his injury was like her hand, lacking the pulsating pain of the previous day.
However when she gently coaxed Ghidorah into opening his eye so she could clean out his wound, she froze with the waterskin lifted when his pebbly eyelid opened to reveal his eye; a thick translucent membrane encased his eye, like the fluid-filled skin of a blister. Ghidorah could see what she saw and his other two heads curled over to peer down at the odd covering bound across his eye. Gingerly Daenerys pressed against his eyelids, careful not to touch the eye but instead pushing at the skin. There was no pain but Ghidorah seemed as curious as she was.
"This is...peculiar..." Daenerys squinted at the fluid filled membrane before gently, very gently, pinching it between her thumb and forefinger. It was thin and squishy and, feeling Ghidorah's consent, she pulled the membrane free of his eye. Watery thick fluid burst free to splatter the ground as the membrane hung limply from her fingers, as delicate as the skin of a jellyfish.
And Ghidorah blinked at her, the eye which had been punctured through with the crossbow bolt now hale and perfect as if he'd never been shot. She stared, as did his other heads as he blinked. His pupil contracted into a small dark dot in the sunlight but she knew he could see her easily as if he'd never been injured. Daenerys looked down at the membrane dangling from her fingers and, even as she watched, it seemed to flake into nothing in her hand like melting frost.
Ghidorah rose up, inspecting his eye closely as his left head swiveled around to prove that he could indeed see again. When Daenerys checked the injury in his shoulder it had another of the odd membranes clinging to it and, when she tugged it free, the flesh underneath was an unblemished.
He had healed from his injures, as if they had never happened. Daenerys did not understand, for all her reading about her family and dragons none had described this healing ability. About wounds returning pristine. If months had passed, perhaps, but only a night had passed over head and now Ghidorah was healed as if he had naught been struck.
Daenerys stroked at Ghidorah's snout, all six eyes focusing on her before his middle and right head snuffled at the left. The healing was an inexplicable to him as well but nonetheless welcomed.
Perhaps it was another secret the Targaryens did not share, Daenerys decided. Like taming dragons or hatching eggs or how a dragons blood were as black as their bones. Usually something told from word of mouth until the House was destroyed. That must be it. Dragons only died if they were from grievous wounds; torn off wings, brains punctured, skull smashed in. Perhaps if the likes of Sunfyre had not been so injured he could have regained use of his wings, healed them as her child did so. Or perhaps it was due to Ghidorah's three heads and storm calling? He was beyond what she'd read of her ancestors dragons but then so little could she trust? If only Aemon had lived longer, she could have asked. Asked him if he'd known about such abilities. Instead the time they had was for sharing personal history and Aemon warning her of the lurking menace to the west beyond the Wall. She did not have time to ask him all he knew as he was taken from her so soon.
She pressed her forehead against Ghidorah's bony snout, his huffs drying the droplets clinging to her skin. The truth of her House was closed to her but her child had healed and that she could cherish. And now understand, that it took the Dance to kill the dragons. They could heal all else, if the bolt which struck Meraxes had been an inch shorter then she could have survived as Ghidorah did. Dragons were magic and that was unknown to many.
Ghidorah was also greatly pleased with this new knowledge. He twisted his heads around to study the left and the healed eye. Now it would be even harder for him to be slain when they headed to battle.
Because, as Daenerys pulled away from her child, she knew that was where they were heading. Stowing away the waterskin Daenerys retrieved Blackfyre, the rubies sending tiny shards of ruddy light dancing across the grass. Ghidorah rose up to his scaly feet, stretching out his wings again as forked tongues flickered. He could sense his mother's thoughts and the fire filling her bones, a burning which had grown from embers ever since she beaten Meereen and had the Great Masters punished, when learned of the Sons of the Harpy, more and more news of her people being murdered in the streets, of those trusting her as their mother dying from blades in the dark of cowards, of watching Aemon dying before her and seeing his body burn, of the Golden Company and Strickland's condescending smile and his bait of her nephew waiting for her across the Narrow Sea. And Blackfyre, the legacy of House Targaryen, forged in blood and fire like all of the dragons and Targaryens.
I am Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, she thought, running a hand down the flat of the blade and watching the darkness shimmer and ripple within its radiance, Of the blood of Daenys the Dreamer, Aegon the Conqueror, Maegor the Cruel. Of Jaehaerys the Wise and Alysanne the Good Queen, of Aegon the Usurper and Aegon the Dragonsbane. Of Daeron the Good and Aerion the Monstrous. Of Aegon the Unlikely and Maester Aemon, who left me too soon. And my valiant brother Rhaegar, the last dragon, before I claimed the title even more.
Perhaps this Aegon the Sixth was true. That he was indeed Rhaegar's and Elia's son, saved upon the eve of their family's death years ago and now was battling his way through the Stormlands to King's Landing to drag the lions from their dens to slaughter them for their crimes. Or he was a Blackfyre, told all his life the opposite for the Golden Company to use for their own ends or a lie of his own making to provoke Daenerys into letting her guard down. Perhaps she would never know the truth but Strickland had been correct that Daenerys could legitimize this cloth dragon across the Narrow Sea. Her blood was in no doubt, nor her dragon. If she accepted him then the Seven Kingdoms would be forced to do so as well.
Aemon had told her that a Targaryen alone in the world was a terrible thing and with the godswife Mirri Maz Duur cursing her, Daenerys would never carry a babe within her. Ghidorah would only ever be her only child. Khal Drogo was more likely to return from the grave than her womb was to quicken again to bear children. When she perished, either through war or accident or age, House Targaryen would die along with her until they simply became stories.
If she chose to legitimize this Aegon, either by marriage or naming him her successor, then the name would live on. None would doubt him if she did embrace him and her House would have a future after they carved the path through fire and blood. The Iron Throne must have realized that, if the invasion was known by them as it must be. They would seek to kill this other dragon laying waste to their lands.
But that would be a choice for the future, for her to ponder and worry and fuss upon. Years for it even, since she was in Meereen while this Aegon was in the Stormlands which was a world away. The chance either of them would be killed on the opposite ends of the earth before they ever met was high as they were both fighting enemies who wished nothing more than their bodies to be broken in the dirt and their House crushed to ashes.
Her people came first, the ones who'd chosen her in Essos, who followed her across the Red Sea, then from Astapor and Yunkai until Meereen. She refused to abandon those who put their faith in her and she was no cringing child to go fleeing from a harpy. She was the blood of dragons.
Like their dragons, the Targaryens answered to neither gods nor men.
Daenerys had spent too long thinking about the opinions of those she hated. Placating the ones who murdered her loyal subjects, pleading with the slavers to oh so sweetly stop killing her people would they? She had kept herself lax and stupid upon her throne and in doing so allowed her enemies to regain their strength. They thought her some delicate, brainless infant playing at war and her people were paying the price for her weakness.
She had been acting as Aenys, the weak willed son of Aegon the Conqueror and Rhaenys, who nearly lost the Iron Throne after only five years of rule and a single generation. So convinced in the smallfolks love for him, Aenys did nothing when four rebellions rose and the lords of the Seven Kingdoms were forced to intervene as the king dithered upon his throne and did naught to offer aid. Who did nothing when the lords protested his inability to rule or protest them and even more so when the Faith began to complain and mutter. When he wed his son and daughter, the Faith labeled him King Abomination and armed themselves, a king who sat and did nothing while the Faith Militant rose and murdered his people, slaughtered them in the streets and roads with impunity. A weak king, easily influenced and swaying in every direction like a reed in the wind. Died only five years after gaining the crown and when he perished Maegor brought fire and blood to the Faith Militant.
Cruel Maegor was indeed, beheading the Grand Maester who protested Maegor taking the throne over Aenys heir and then setting alight the Sept of Remembrance, Stonebridge and Great Fork with Balerion's fire. Maegor passed the laws forbidding the Faith to carry arms and burned those who disagreed or protested. He even threatened to burn the Starry Sept, only the quick ascension of a new High Septon who accepted Maegor prevented it all from burning. Cruel he was but due to his weak willed brother Maegor was a necessity in keeping House Targaryen upon the Iron Throne. Aenys did too little and Maegor did too much.
Fire and Blood, thought Daenerys. The words of House Targaryen. She had known them all her life.
The only family of dragonlords who survived the Doom of Valyria, which drowned an island and set the sea around it smoking for centuries after. House Targaryen ruled as the Kings of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms, and the Great House of the crownlands for nearly three hundred years. A House which survived a catastrophic civil war which drove the dragons extinct and later a rebellion that sent the last of them scattering across the Narrow Sea. And yet Daenerys survived, survived her brother and the Dothraki and the masters and all the knives in the dark.
But those were lessons she had forgotten. She had failed to understand what while she wished to be a queen not a khal she could not hope to give her subjects a better life after their freedom from chains, not while their past masters lived in wealth next door to them. Missandei's words about how the slavers would never see the freed slaves as people surged to her mind, the Naathi scribe insistent they only looked to them as runaway property, like one would regard a horse which had bolted from the stable. Never as people but instead stock to hurry back home the instant they were given the chance.
Now Daenerys understood her bitterness, she had not wanted to admit that upon the Great Pyramid that she'd hated it in Meereen. That she'd been forced to smile and have audiences with people she'd sooner flay, sooner see their rotted corpses struck up upon markets like they did the children than help their problems. That she'd been listening to the grievances of slave owners just as intently as their freed slaves, as if they were in anyway the same. It had been peace but now Daenerys could understand it was in fact defeat.
Because she had favoured the masters. She had rationalized it at the time as something otherwise, when she met with the Green Grace, when she allowed the Wise Masters to keep their homes and wealth and railing at nothing when the Sons of the Harpy murdered her people. Killing over a hundred and half were nothing compared to generations of their cruelty but she had left them with their rank, their prestige, their lives. Like she'd done at Yunkai.
At the Yellow City that was when the freed slaves began to call her Mhysa. Mother, because she was to care for them as a mother would. To protect them as a dragon would her clutch.
Instead Daenerys had sat down and supped with the ones murdering her children, dithering over the opinions of the slavers who smiled to her face even as they killed her people. She should have killed the Harpy, torn her wings off and thrown her broken body into the dirt to fill with graveworms. She had been foolish enough to think she could cultivate new growth while the rot remained. She could not protect her people while she permitted their enemies to live beside them. While she had no intention of being a butcher queen, she wanted her subjects to feel safe approaching her and asking for her help as any queen should do so. But she'd forgotten that while her people, the ones true and loyal, needed to feel protected by her, her enemies also needed to fear her.
I am the mother of dragons, daughter of dragons, bride of dragons. Why do the gods make kings and queens if not to protect the ones who can't protect themselves? Yet I have spurned the faith placed in me by the freedmen, by those who call me mother. I have been a sheep, a lout, useless and lax and letting the Harpy slay my people while I sit and smile and play niceties with their murderers. I am Daenerys Stormborn and mother of Ghidorah the Stormbringer and my patience is at an end.
Looking skyward Daenerys' violet eyes searched the placement of the sun; they were nearly halfway back to Meereen, if the current time of their flight from Meereen to Braavos could be trusted. If they conserved their strength and took several stops to make sure they were at full strength when they reached the city then it would be nightfall when they arrived.
If her recalling the phases of the moon was correct, then it would be a moonless night as well.
The perfect time to strike, especially from the sky where her enemies would be blind.
With Ghidorah's storms then their cover would be true, a blanket of shadow. A fitting end for the Harpy's armies who had slain her people in the darkness of night and now assailed her city and people when she'd let them live before. Aegon the Conqueror had the advantage of Balerion, a dragon who's scales and wings were as black as coal with his only colouring being his great scarlet eyes. Otherwise the Black Dread would be as the shadows and Daenerys had to wonder if Aegon had used him as such. Ghidorah was gold but the clouds that followed them to Braavos had been thick and grumbling with lightning.
She had given the masters a chance to live in her new world and they had rejected her, spiting her and killing her people in response to her offered hand. Now they would die in their old one. Her mercy was at an end. For a queen who could not protect her people deserved no such title and she would finally punish those who had long refused her generosity for a second chance. They call her the mother of monsters, and now she shall show them who the mother of monsters is.
With steady movements Daenerys slid Blackfyre back around her waist, the sword sitting snug between the links of Valyrian steel. Then she turned to face her child, finding him already watching her intently with all three heads. His scarlet eyes were watchful and bright but she could sense an eager bubble of emotions rising within him.
"Fire and blood," Daenerys told her child. Their House words. Now and forever.
All three of Ghidorah's jaws open in lupine grins, sharp fangs glittering before he eagerly hunkered down for Daenerys to pull herself upon his scaled back. With a rippling noise Ghidorah unfurled his wings and swept them down with a powerful stroke that sent golden leaves swirling tthrough the air and the grass swaying and Daenerys gripped Ghidorah's back spines tightly as the wind began to whistle past her even as she cast her thoughts to the city of Meereen.
When the sun sets, the Harpy shall end.
Actions
↑ Top ← Previous Chapter Next Chapter → Edit Bookmark Comments (84)
Kudos
Lillian_Tuphan, 24Idiots, angelwritesalot, 13DeadRats, Soren_uwu, Sukeolin, posionivykissed, Slmn, PrincessCarolina03, Baumtraum, Lost_In_WLW_Thoughts, lastrada444, Little_mushroom99, TomatoPotato09, Fert_567, Ellin_wwj, Roxannaaaaaa, cinnamon_frog, wolfdragon3036, TheArkitech, ahuk00, SaffirtheGreat, Cerberus_paw, SebyWildest, EmpressOwl, AriesIsFloofy, Eliaco_6731, 1995chouchoux_de_la_street, PhantomPeach14, ArchdemonSolomon, Karakurtaryen, Redqueen175, naya1822, X1peT0tec, mysty1346, w098458, WHat_In_carNation, Ididnotdie, Rarba, Read1_12, Nikd15, I_AM_NOOB, Mm1221, Eclipzee, Cheyenna_banana808, Iris_Hope_Flower, Hthehumam, Kuramatcha, LettuceNotLemons, Thedarkknight12, and 2501 more users as well as 3469 guests left kudos on this work!
Comments
Post Comment
Comment as TheBrimmedHat
Plain text with limited HTML ?
Comment
10000 characters left
Footer
Customize
Default
Low Vision Default
Reversi
Snow Blue
About the Archive
Site Map
Diversity Statement
Terms of Service
Content Policy
Privacy Policy
DMCA & TIDA Policies
Site Status
Contact Us
Policy Questions & Abuse Reports
Technical Support & Feedback
Development
otwarchive v1.2.0.0
Known Issues
GPL-2.0-or-later by the OTW