She awoke to the sound of dragons.
The first thing the girl felt was a cold breeze running over her bare head. Dany's silver-gold hair, her pride, the locks her sun-and-stars loved so well, had burned away. Even her poor eyebrows were singed off. The bed of coals she lay on still smoldered slightly. Of her sandsilk trousers and painted leather vest, little need be said. Such rags as still clung to her quickly crumbled into ash when the khalessi rose from what should have been her funeral pyre.
High above, the sun was warm, revealing the dark hills, bushes bristling with cruel needles, and stunted inky black saplings, the only tree to be found in these parts, the kind with blue leaves. Little living dwelt in these parts, she was sure, and of Drogo's khalasar she saw no sign.
The only sound was the sound of dragons.
Three they were, the living creatures who somehow cracked the stone eggs she clutched for comfort. Just now, they nibbled on Drogo's charred flesh. Dany had not the heart to stop them. What else was there to eat in this bleak, forgotten corner of the world?
Soon enough, hunger of her own rumbled in her belly, but the flesh of her husband, even Jorah, her stalwart protector...she considered a moment and thought better of it.
No, I am a queen, she thought. Nothing could reduce her to that; better to starve.
For lack of anything better to do, Dany looked around. The sun had a partner in the sky, she noticed, red with a long tail. Could it be her beloved riding through the Nightands? That must be it. A khal as great as Drogo would pass into the afterlife in a burning blaze, letting all the world witness his final glory. She would weep for him, or Rhaego, their son, but the flesh about her eyes was stiff and dry and would not shed a tear.
When the hatchlings ate their fill, they returned to her, cooing like babes.
"I suppose I am your mother, aren't I?" she said, laughing. It was good to laugh, though no one was around to hear. They climbed her legs, crawled and rolled like kittens, and the big one, well, the bigger one, managed a fluttering jump to her shoulder. Ouch! Those claws could pinch, even from a newborn!
That one, black slashed with scarlet, she named Drogon, after her sun-and-stars. The green one with the big bronze eyes would be Rhaegal, after the brother she never knew, and the pale one, cream with golden ridges, would be Viserrion. Though her brother was a fool, Viserys was her brother still, and she loved him once. If not for him, she wouldn't even know who she was.
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The red blade that burned across the sky seemed to point, though in what direction, Daenerys knew not. She followed the trail, naked, her bare feet suffering with every footfall.
Dany was completely, utterly alone, with only her dragons, one under each arm, and another perched on her shoulder. Any of Drogo's khalasar who yet lived would laugh at the sight, she did not doubt. The way the comet pointed might've been north or south, east or west, but mostly, it was down, down from this high and lonely place, though the valley beyond was just as lonely, she seemed to remember. The false emperor, the sorcerer who sent the cloud of poison smoke, suffered no guests at his doorstep. Drogo's khalasar rode through the eerie emptiness to their doom. Only she survived to tell of it, if she survived.
She would survive! She must! If nothing else, she would warn the Orange Emperor of the sorcerer's poison smoke. None could approach his stronghold and live. Save her.
That, Dany thought on for a space. On dragonback, she could return and burn that malefactor in his tower of many tiers. With dragons, you could do anything. With dragons, she could win back her father's kingdom, or carve out a new one for herself.
The urgent need concentrated her mind. She must have food, water, shelter. With dragons, she could make a fire, at least, but they had to eat too, and were too small to hunt. Her feet were bloody and blistered as she walked down, down, down, but there was a sweetness in the pain, like learning to ride. At first, the Dothraki saddle with the high stirrups left her bottom covered in sores and her thighs terribly chafed, but Dany grew stronger. All of this would make her stronger. Drogo and all his men would be avenged. Rhaego and Jorah and everyone would be avenged! This, Daenerys Targaryen swore to the sky, the sun and moon, and the red comet, if it be Drogo's spirit for true.
"Who are you?" a voice whispered on the wind, stunning her to stillness.
"Who's there?" she called back, picking up a sharp-looking stone by her heel. There was no way Dany would be taken without a fight!
"A friend," the wind whispered back.
Dany did not see or hear, but she felt a presence behind her. Spinning on the balls of her feet, she turned and raised the rock in threat.
A woman in a red lacquer mask looked back, meeting her eyes and taking no notice of the rock. The girl dropped it after realizing the absurdity of her position.
"I have no friends," Dany said to her. The stiff, dry skin about her eyes had loosened, and she began to weep bitter tears. "Everyone I've ever known and loved is dead."
"Not everyone," the woman said, not unkindly. "I know you, but I wonder if you know yourself. I ask again, who are you?"
Dany drew herself up, attempting to look dignified despite her nakedness. "Daenerys Targaryen, who is, who was, khalessi to the great Khal Drogo. I am the last of my house, who ruled the Seven Kingdoms, far to the west, for three hundred years. I am the blood of Old Valyria."
The woman's eyes, as much as Dany could make them out, crinkled in amusement behind the mask. "Mayhaps. I am Quaithe of the Shadow. My camels await you in the valley beyond. It is long leagues to my house in Asshai. There is much I have to teach you, my lady."
"Teach me?" Dany asked in puzzlement. She would raise an eyebrow if she had one. "What would you teach me?"
Somehow, she could tell Quaithe was smiling. "Who you really are." The woman, Quaithe, shimmered into nothingness right before her eyes. Her last act was pointing down, down to the valley. With no better options, Daenerys continued down to the shadowed lands in the distance.
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