Chapter 31 - Chapter 31: The Dragon of Dragons

Daenerys, Princess of Dragonstone, had entered the world under a shadow of death and loss. She had lost her eldest brother and father before she was even born. Born as the last princess of a crumbling dynasty, she endured the complications of her mother's labor, a perilous entry into life that foreshadowed the long path of suffering ahead. Her childhood was marked by thirteen years of wandering and hardship, until she was sold into slavery among the centaurs, stripped of her royal identity and thrown into a harsh world that valued strength and cunning over lineage.Yet, even in the cruel hands of fate, she found fleeting moments of fortune. Drogo, the old man of the centaurs, treated her with care, offering her a strange form of protection in a world that had otherwise known her only as prey. But the god of death was relentless. Her brother was murdered at the hands of her husband, and both her husband and her son were sacrificed to the dark whims of the alter ego of R'hllor, the Lord of Light, by witches who toyed with human lives as though they were threads in a tapestry.This, however, was only the first half of her bleak existence.During her years of hardship in Slaver's Bay, she had tied and untied chains alike, liberating some while subjugating others, a cruel symmetry of life's demands. After years of struggle and growth, she had fought her way back to Westeros, only to realize a bitter truth: she was not the Child of Prophecy. She was not the chosen one; she was a ladder, a step for someone else to climb, a tool in a game whose rules she had never written. Loyal followers had met tragic deaths; the survivors were not all allies, some hidden daggers in human form. Mormont, the man who loved her, had met his end, and the man she had loved most had betrayed her. Even the dragon, her companion and childlike charge, had become a pawn in the cruel Game of Thrones, an object to be claimed, bartered, or destroyed by the victor.(P.S.: Daenerys must die. Even if "A Song of Ice and Fire" had remained unfinished, her fate was sealed. She was a reformer of a corrupt world, but who among the revolutionaries ever survives the very system they seek to dismantle?)It seemed almost as if two of the most miserable people had collided, doubling their misfortunes. Yet, the transformed Dany no longer considered herself unlucky, except in the earliest days of her arrival in this world. Misfortune was a visitor she would not entertain—she would be the agent of change, not its victim. If others suffered, it would be because they encountered her, not because fate conspired against her.Her thoughts drifted. Lyneth is a daughter of House Hightower, isn't she? she pondered. The legendary "White Bull," Ser Gerold Hightower, was also from this house, wasn't he?"Yes," Jorah said quietly, confirming her suspicion. "Ser Gerold Hightower is Lineth's great-uncle."Dany frowned. "House Hightower… wouldn't she bring shame upon the family by behaving like that?"Jorah's voice was bitter, heavy with self-reproach. "I have already brought shame upon my family. I am a man without honor.""Has she returned to her parents' home?" Dany asked."It is said she has become Prince Traeger's favorite concubine. Even his wife regards her with caution," Jorah replied, struggling to speak as if each word were a bitter kernel stuck in his throat.Dany could not let him suffer in silence. "Have you searched for her again? Did you try to return to Lys after coming back from the Norn?"The anguish in Jorah's eyes deepened. The man, so tall and steadfast, seemed ready to collapse under the weight of his own memories."The Trade Prince is wealthy and powerful," he said slowly, his voice trembling. "I was on my way to Lys, but he intercepted me. He…""He wants to kill you?" Dany asked cautiously, sensing the danger."It was not exactly a threat. He spoke to clarify the situation, to prevent unnecessary struggle and public embarrassment. But if I had not taken the initiative to leave, I would have vanished without a trace in the western lands of Essos," Jorah said, his tone grim."I was never afraid of his words," he added with quiet pride. "I only ensured that Lynesse was not coerced into leaving by herself."Dany's mind worked quickly. Those two adulterers had likely been involved behind his back. Still, she did not judge him for protecting the woman he had once loved."Do you still love her?" she asked, her tone casual yet probing."Love? Love!" Jorah barked, a mix of anguish and exasperation in his voice. "It is a mixture of love and hate. Princess, forgive me—I am weary.""Wait," Dany interrupted, seeking clarity. "Do you feel anything for me that surpasses duty, something beyond the realm of king and subject?"Dany, unlike her original self, would not use him as a backup. Her heart had been hardened by betrayal and loss; she would not entangle it again for convenience.They spoke cautiously, sometimes gathering close in conversation, sometimes stepping back, respecting the spaces they could not cross. Without Jorah, without the familiar bonds of Westeros, Dany had relied entirely on the centaurs, integrating herself fully into their ranks, learning their ways, observing the land as one of its own.Jorah's expression was a mixture of embarrassment and joy. "From the moment I saw you, I felt a resemblance, Daenerys," he said, with the subtle sincerity of a man who had loved fiercely and lost.But for Dany, this was irrelevant. "I am nothing like her. Even with Drogo gone, I will marry no other man," she said flatly. Drogo was a stranger to her, yet his death offered a convenient shield against suitors.Jorah bowed deeply, understanding her refusal, and withdrew with heavy steps. The Kingsguard, after all, renounce inheritance, marriage, and children. Their sole honor is service to their king or queen.The next morning, at dawn, Dany mounted her small silver horse, a modified wicker backpack slung over her shoulders. Three dragons stretched their serpentine necks around her waist, hissing intermittently. The hooves of the horses echoed against the stone pavement, a crisp sound through the morning mist, giving the city an ethereal, dreamlike quality."Khaleesi," two centaurs called from the gate, emerging to escort her. "Are you leaving the city?""Yes," Dany replied, determination in her voice. "The plains beyond are wider. It is time to tame the dragons." She instructed the horsemen to remove the gate, a simple barrier of tree trunks lashed together like a raft.Though the dragons could already fly, Dany's expectations were exacting. Thinking of dragons in stories and TV shows, often clumsy and awkward, she worried about their weaknesses. They were slow to turn, fragile in the lower limbs, unstable on land, and vulnerable once grounded. Their wings were thin, scales insufficient against crossbow bolts. If forced into enemy formations, without momentum, they could easily be trapped or killed.She had spent the previous night melting Drogo's gold medallions, forging golden chains to restrain the dragons for training. Each leg was bound with a link less than ten centimeters long, weighing only a pound, yet enough to teach discipline."Come, Big Black," she said, lifting the largest dragon into the air. "Set an example for your brothers."The dragon flapped fiercely but flew less than ten meters before collapsing. Hissing in protest, it glared at Dany. Without hesitation, she moved to the white dragon, repeating the process. It spun awkwardly, spat a thin stream of fire, and struggled against her grip.Dany bent down, helping the dragons regain balance, training their limbs to support weight on land. She realized that dragons possessed an innate sense of space but lacked stability upon landing. Their wings, while powerful in flight, served as front limbs on land, making walking difficult.After morning exercises, she left the chains on and carried the dragons with her while foraging. The centaurs accompanied her, seeking small prey. Dahei, the black dragon, lunged at a palm-sized scorpion, burning it in a flash of flame. Dany scolded gently, stroking his head, connecting with him as if telepathically.When a venomous scorpion struck, Dahei's mouth was pierced. Dany feared poisoning, recalling that the sting could paralyze horses. Yet he showed no ill effects, his scales hot under her touch. Dragon physiology, Jorah had explained, was unmatched: fire beneath their skin, muscles and bones stronger than steel, blood hotter than lava.For a long while, the black dragon showed no signs of distress. Dany exhaled, relief washing over her. These creatures, her children, were slowly learning to survive, adapt, and obey.She could only hope that one day, they would soar as true dragons of dragons, untouchable and fierce, yet under her command, disciplined and strong.(End of Chapter)---