Chapter Text
Her room in Magister Illyrio's manse had never been home, and it will never be. It was not her home. Her home was a land she could not remember. A land that was stolen from her family before she was born. A land she could never return to. Her home was a house with a red door, a lemon tree close to her window. A door that was now closed forever.
She could never go home.
She did not possess a home.
Illyrio's manse was not her home and yet, now she wanted nothing more than to run back to the room given to her and, lock the door to lay alone beneath de silk sheets. To cower and hide beneath a place that would have been safe were she a child.
She wanted nothing more than to never leave. Dany would bear the uncertainty of never knowing when Illyrio would throw them out if only she could stay. If only she was not sold off.
Drogo is so rich, even his slaves wear golden collars; the words played in her mind again and again. She could not help it. She could not stop it. They put a golden collar around her neck and called her a Princess. But Drogo's slaves too wore golden collars. Was she a slave now?
I am; she admitted to herself. After all, Viserys was selling her to buy himself an army. But the Dothraki did not function that way, and she feared what would happen once her brother realized that.
Viserys was King of the Seven Kingdoms, yes. The rightful King. But he was so only in name and blood. He did not posses a throne, or a crown, nor armies and leal lords. He possessed nothing of value. Nothing, except her. Dany was the last valuable thing he had to sell. And now he had. He sold her off in exchange of a Dothraki army that could take back their home. He sold her to Khal Drogo, the Great Khal. Her brother was cruel, petty and hurt her most of the time, but she would rather wed him than Drogo. Drogo frightened her to her very core. She did not wish to marry him.
When they were back to Illyrio's manse, she excused herself saying she was tired. And she was. So very tired. Viserys and Illyrio allowed her to leave without a word. For that, she was grateful. Once the door of her room was closed behind her, she cried. She cried, and prayed to any god that could be listening so her brother changed his mind. Prayed that her brother would prefer to keep with the traditions of their ancestors and marry her himself. It was the only thing that could save her now.
Dany muffled her sobs against the soft pillow. She was alone in her room and the collar no longer decorated her neck, but she still felt the weight. Like it was still there.
It will always be there now, even if I cannot see it; she thought saddened.
It was pure exhaustion that forced her to close her red, teary eyes.
That night she dreamt. She dreamt of an enormous shadow covering her, black and crimson. A dragon that stood in front of her, over her, with his maw open and fire shinning behind his long fangs. But she did not fear. The dragon bathed Dany in fire, cleansing her. The flames danced over her, around her. Orange, red and yellow, and among them a pale flame. Silver and amethyst, it spoke with the voice of a woman.
"Save yourself the sorrow" it said.
A sharp pain crossed her body, when she looked down, her thighs were covered in blood. She felt a fear and pain that could not possibly be hers, but it was. She had never been so frightened and in so much pain. The fire burned her tears away. Three rocks laid before her, colourful and scaled. She touched them, they were burning too.
"From the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai" another flame said, and Dany knew that voice, but cannot place it.
The flames began to float in the sky, so far away from her that they were now nothing but stars. But stars did not move with such swiftness in the night sky, and the flames did. They were a group, galloping through the sky like horses would a clear. Like a khalasar would.
Mushrooms grew from the rocks she laid on, as if they were fertile soil. Pale white, like milk, with speckles, and blood red-ribbed undersides. But it was blood, it was truly blood. It slipped down the mushrooms to the rocks, bathing them red. Like wine over a pale marble, it turned the rocks of a crimson colour. Crimson, like the dragon's scales. Crimson like the three-headed dragon of her house's sigil.
"Save yourself the sorrow" the voice repeated, far away now.
Blood still poured from that place between her legs, it pooled around her. It hurt, more tears slipped down her cheeks, but this time there was no fire to burn them. No fire to numb the pain. Dany screamed, but no sound came from her mouth.
Where was the dragon? Why was it not there with her? She needed more flames. She was hurt. Could he not see that?
"Only death can pay for life" a voice echoed, it came from the sky, from the flames.
The voice froze her to the bones.
And then, the dragon was back. She was not alone anymore. There he was, in front of her again. She felt relief. His black and crimson scales covered in blood. Dany extended her hand without a single doubt and touched him. He was warm to the touch. When she retired her hand, it was covered in blood too. Sticky with it.
There was no more blood between her thighs, and the pool of it had been swallowed. That too, tinted the rock crimson red. Dany liked that colour.
She looked at her bare hands.
Her hands were bloody.
She feared they will always be covered in blood. Jut not her blood.
She felt less fear when she awoke the day after. As if the flames had gifted her some courage she did not possess before.
Doreah, one of Illyrio's slaves, was the one to wake her up. She had honey-blonde hair, eyes like the summer sky and a kind smile. She had to be nearly twenty name days old, having spent most of those years in a brothel in Lys. She was one of Illyrio's favourite slaves, and Viserys'. Dany knew her brother bedded the girl, and she had to be very good for he was exceptionally kind to her. He was not kind to Dany. Not since he sold their mother's crown.
"Good morrow, Princess" Doreah greeted with a smile "Did you sleep well?"
Did she? She was not truly sure of it. Her dream had been odd. Good at times, yet like a nightmare during some moments. And hard to understand. Yet she did, she did understand. Those mushrooms, she had seen them in a book when she was a child. In the house with the red door, Ser Willem showed her a book of herbs and plants once. Those mushrooms were poisonous.
Was that what her dream was about?
Did a part of her wish to poison someone?
Save yourself the sorrow.
The memory of those words send shivers down her spine.
"As well as expected" she answered softly.
Her fate was none of Doreah's fault.
She stood up from her bed, watching as Doreah filled the tub with hot water. Soon more slave girls entered Dany's room, all carrying buckets full of hot water. When the tub was full, the girls helped Dany out of her nightgown.
"Be careful, Princess, the water is hot" Doreah.
She did not mind. She enjoyed scalding hot baths, it made her feel clean. And now she needed to feel clean. Now more than ever before. Dany sighed contently when her skin came in contact with the burning water. It made her feel better. She submerged her head in the water, surrounding herself with silence for a few seconds. And for a moment, under the water, she did not have to worry about anything. She had no future wedding, no future husband, no future pain. There was only her holding her breath. But like all good things in her life, it was over swiftly. She had to return for air.
When she emerged, they were all looking at her. Doreah was the only one who's face showed concern.
"Please, leave me be" she asked the slaves "Just for a moment. I wish to be on my own"
They did leave, they allowed her some time alone. Dany mourned the fact that the water was not half as hot as the dragon's flame in her dream.
Save yourself the sorrow.
Dany sighed, what did that mean? What sorrow? The ones she had lived or the ones she will live? Both? No, if she could save herself the sorrow it must be something that was yet to occur. Was she dreading her future so very much so that her dreams reflected it?
And how was she supposed to save herself the sorrow, by poisoning her future husband? Could she do something like that? No. No, she could not. And it was merely a silly dream, with dragons and dragon eggs, not real in any way.
Once Dany was cleaned and dried, she was helped into a silk gown by Doreah. The lyseni girl was the one who would usually brush her hair and twist it into valyrian hairstyles. Lyseni people valued the valyrian blood over everything, and she had the blood of the dragon. She was the blood of the dragon. And dragons did not fear. She hoped her valyrian braids could give her courage. She looked at her reflection on the looking glass, sometimes she wondered if she looked like her mother. Like Queen Naerys or Queen Rhaenyra, like Queen Rhaenys or Queen Visenya. Which one did she resembled the most?
Dany had the typical Targaryen traits, the silver hair and violet eyes. The physical appearance of those of the blood of the dragon. Of women who had suffered the same fates she was about to suffer. Would have they stopped it if they could? Would she? Could she?
"Doreah, you grew up in a brothel, I hear" she looked at the older girl through the looking glass, somehow shyly "Illyrio said so. I heard him"
"I did" the girl nodded as she twisted Dany's hair into various braids "Do you wish to know something of it?"
"I heard once, in the market, that some prostitutes poison their clients" she hoped that was not too direct.
If Doreah suspected something about her intentions...well, Dany herself was not sure what her intentions were.
"Some do. I did not. But it is a hard thing to do, Princess, and does not happen often"
"What poison do they use? Tears of Lys?"
She heard of that one in the market, it was quick to act and impossible to detect. If she could get her hands on one like that, would she make use of it?
Doreah giggled as if her question was some kind of jest.
"No, no. That poison is far too expensive. They use others. I do not know their names, but I do know it is not something easy to find"
Dany sighed, of course it was not. How could she find a poison then? She should have known it was just a silly dream fruit of her imagination, not something that could come to pass.
It is best this way; Dany thought relived, yet sad and fearful as well. She could not poison anyone, let alone someone who was meant to be her husband. It was not who she was. She was weak, the blood of the dragon run thin in her veins.
When Doreah finished with her hair, Dany decided to take a walk through the gardens of Illyrio's manse. She would not spend much more time there. She was to be wed to a Khal of the Dothraki. The Dothraki were nomadic people who never stayed in once place. They had only one city, Vaes Dothrak, but they did not live there. She would never have a home again. So Dany strolled through the gardens, admiring the beauty that she would not see anymore after her marriage.
Dany walked alone, there was no one around. The courtyard was decorated by a marble pool larger than Dany's room there. The pool possessed a statue of a young man, lithe and handsome, in its center. Dany thought the statue was very beautiful, the artist who crafted it, had much talent in her eyes. The marble was painted to show the blonde her of the young man, at shoulder-lenght. He was poised for a duel, with a bravosi blade in hand. According to Magister Illyrio, the statue was of him when he was younger. He told her and Viserys that he used to be a sell-sword in his youth. Her brother did not believe it, but Dany had seen something akin to melancholy in Illyrio's eyes when he spoke of those times. The pool was surrounded by six beautiful cherry trees, and behind them spread the gardens behind the manse, even more extensive.
Dany took a deep breath, would she ever return to those gardens?
I will not. My husband will not allow it. Even if we ever do return to Pentos it will not be to this house; she thought sadly. Khal Drogo had his own manse in Pentos. If they were ever to return they would stay there. And what of her brother? Would she see him again? Viserys was to take the army Drogo would give him and conquer the Seven Kingdoms again. If he could. Of that she was not quite sure.
And if he did take back the Seven Kingdoms, would he left her behind in Essos? Would she have to live as a Dothraki for the rest of her life? She knew their customs dictated that if she outlived Drogo, she would have to join the widows of the Khals in Vaes Dothrak. She would become part of the dosh khaleen, and there she will live the rest of her days.
The mere thought made her want to cry. It was not the life she wished for. But did that matter? No, it did not. What she wanted was of no consequence. Her dreams and hopes for the future, her wishes and wants, were of no consequence. She was only a girl, and as such, she was nothing but her brother's possession.
Save yourself the sorrow.
Dany shook her head. How could she? There was no way out of the marriage. Not unless her brother changed his mind, and even then they would be in danger would the Khal decide he was offended and wanted what was promised to him.
Her.
She would never escape the sorrow, she never could before. Daenerys Targaryen was born in sorrow, her mother died giving life to her. She was raised in sorrow when the red door closed before her eyes, when Viserys and her had to wander the streets and beg for the scraps some wealthy merchant would be willing to give them.
Am I to die in sorrow as well?; she asked herself, fearing she knew the answer.
Dany shut her eyes, trying to force the tears back, trying to stop them from falling. She was not there to cry, but to enjoy the stroll. She had her room if what she wished to do was cry. She shook her head, wiping her tears with her clenched fists. She had to be strong. She was the blood of the dragon. Dragons did not weep.
With eyes still blurry, Dany saw a small circle of lilacs surrounded by a larger one of lavender. Circles upon circles of different flowers; bellflowers, forget-me-nots, daisies and others. It was a strange combination of flowers, of so many different colours. It was beautiful, the carefully planted and groomed circle of flowers. But something else caught her attention, something she had seen before. The mushrooms were there, growing from a cracked paving tile. Milk white and blood red, like in her dream.
Her breath stopped, or mayhaps it was her heart. She could not be sure.
The mushrooms from her dream. The poisonous mushrooms from her dream. She remembered so vividly, her dreams and the leather-bound book (soft as his old leather-like hands) that Ser Willem Darry showed her before growing truly too ill. Dany looked around nervously, but there was no one watching her. She was alone. She could take them. Yes, she could, but then what? Would she just poison Khal Drogo?
Save yourself the sorrow.
She heard the voice again, her eyes fixated on the mushrooms. They could be inoffensive, she could be wrong about the danger they posed. She could be remembering wrong. Taking a deep breath, Dany surrounded the mushrooms with her trembling hands and pulled them from the cracked tile. It was as if her body was acting on its own, driven by fear. The fear a man like Khal Drogo inspired on her.
She hid them between the skirts of her silk dress, and walked back to her room. No one was looking at her, no one cared. Then, why did it feel like a thousand eyes were watching her?
With a quick step, she entered her room and closed the door. Her hands were sweaty from nerves, she wiped them on the skirt of her dress after putting the mushrooms over a table.
What was she to do now? What had she done? What would happen when Illyrio noticed the mushrooms were gone?
She struggled for some air, breathing was becoming increasingly hard.
I must hide them; she told herself. Indeed she should, but where?; Am I to do this, truly?
Save yourself the sorrow.
Yes, she was.
Dany opened a drawer where she kept the few jewellery she did have. A couple of necklaces gifted to her by Magister Illyrio and other people and a silver bracelet. A gift of Illyrio, who said it matched her hair. That was it, Dany realized, the bracelet. It covered her whole wrist, and it had a big shiny stone encrusted in the middle. Dany pulled with all her might, and the stone was separated from the silver. Behind it left a small hole, but it was too small, not even one mushroom would fit.
Unless...
Quicky, she grabbed a mushroom and squeezed it in her hands. She tore the mushroom into pieces with her hands. When the pieces were smaller than her little finger, she tried to put them in the bracelet. Not even half of it fit, but she was able to fit some and put the stone back where it was. Sweat ran down her forehead from the effort and the nerves, from fear. She hid the rest of the mushrooms and put the bracelet back on the drawer. There was a rather large possibility that those pieces were not enough to kill Drogo, but maybe it could weaken him.
She told herself that was all she needed, for him to be weak and less frightening. She did not wish him dead, she only wished to save herself the sorrow.
The day of her wedding, Dany swore she could hear her heart beating. Swiftly and without a rest. She could hear it during the whole ceremony, it was the only thing she could hear.
Her wedding with Khal Drogo took place under the open sky, for the Dothraki believed that everything important in a man's life occured beneath the open sky. They were wed before thousands of Dothraki warriors, all members of Drogo's khalasar. None truly looked at Dany, not even her husband, but still she felt as if all eyes were on her. As if the stone of her bracelet fell and everyone could see the pieces of toxic mushroom. What would happen then? She could always lie and say it was something to give her luck and fertility, but Dany was not a good liar.
She smoothed the skirts of her wedding gown, it was purple and very beautiful. She wished she was to wear it in better circumstances. Happier circumstances. Her brother and Illyrio sat behind her and her new husband, something that offended Viserys greatly, but Illyrio explained him it was just a Dothraki custom. The bride and groom sat at the front, tasted the food first, and did everything before any other guests. Even her brother, who was the rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms. A rightful King, yes, but only in name and blood. And that was worth nothing against the armies of the Usurper.
Viserys did not believe the same, he believed everything Illyrio told him. He believed the smallfolk was toasting in his name, and waiting for the day he returned to Westerosi soil. To her, nothing sounded more fake than that.
Her wedding lasted since the morning till the night fall, like most Dothraki weddings. Dany was introduced to Drogo's bloodriders, but sadly none of them spoke the common tongue. Neither did Drogo. She could not understand them, so she only smiled at them. A fake smile, just as Viserys told her.
"You don't want to wake the dragon, do you?" he asked after she cried before the ceremony.
That forced her to stop crying.
She shook her head and gave him an answer that pleased him. It was the truth, for she did not wish to wake the dragon. Viserys always hurt her when she did. Dany did not wish for him to hurt her again. So she was as he wanted her to, a smiling bride. Still, anyone who looked close enough could see her trembling hands and teary eyes. They could see the fear all over her face.
"Sister" Viserys said with a smirk when it was time to present her with the wedding gifts "Look, this are Irri and Jhiqui, they will be your handmaidens. Doreah will be one too, she will teach you the womanly arts of love. Irri will teach you to ride like these savages do and Jhiqui will teach to speak their crude language"
Dany smiled at the girls, who were her age or maybe a little older. Both Irri and Jhiqui had copper-colored skin, black hair and almond shaped eyes. But there was some important differences between the two. Jhiqui had wide hips and heavy breasts, being bigger boned than Irri. Her hair was slightly wavier and her eyes of a lighter brown. Irri was smaller, thinner and her face was somewhat sweeter than Jhiqui's who seemed solemn for her age. It would be good to have someone her age around her, even if only for a few moments.
Ser Jorah Mormont, a knight who had recently entered her brother's guard, was next. He handed her four books, all of different sizes, but with leather covers and yellowy pages. When she opened one, Dany saw they were written in the common tongue.
"Tales and stories from the Seven Kingdoms, Princess. It is less than you deserve, I know, but is all I can afford" the old knight said.
"It is a wonderful gift, thank you" she uttered with a real smile.
She did enjoy tales and books, she always had. They made her feel like a child again, even if she had not long ago been one it felt like an eternity ago to her. She was three and ten, she should be a child, not a bride. Her mother had her brother Rhaegar at that age. And many other women had as well, it was the norm in Westeros. And for the Dothraki too it seemed.
Next they gave her a bow, an arakh, and a whip. But those gifts were not truly for her, she was supposed to reject them and give them to her husband. So she did.
Illyrio was next, his slaves came carrying a heavy chest that was placed at her feet. They opened the chest, showing three enormous stoney eggs. Cream, green and black. Black with crimson swirls around the egg. Dragon eggs. Just like in her dream. The sight of the dragon eggs both amazed her and filled her with dread. Her dreams had turned real, there was no denying it now. Was she like Daenys? Was she a dragon dreamer?
Would she have to kill Drogo now? Would the pieces of mushroom even do the job?
She wished to cry and scream, but did not.
"Dragon eggs, Daenerys" he said, completely unaware of everything that was going through her head "From the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai. Time has turned them into stone, but they are still beautiful"
"Thank you, Magister Illyrio" she replied with a shaky voice.
She extended her arm, placing a hand over the petrified egg. It was hot, almost burning. Like the dragon's scales in her dreams. Was this a sign?
Dany watched the people around her, the Dothraki, feast and danced, and laughed and drank, and fought. They mated like animals, and killed one another over a woman they wished to lay with. Illyrio told her not to worry, that a Dothraki wedding with less than three deaths was considered a dull affair. She did not flinch when one of the man cut the other's neck with his arakh. She was pale, trembling and her hands were sweaty. She felt sick, but no one was looking at her. No one was looking at her.
Save yourself the sorrow.
Dany unglued the stone off her bracelet (it came out easily now) and poured the pieces of mushroom in Drogo's cup. It was full of a very red wine, Dornish Red. Her heart beat furiously, she swore she could feel the blood in running through her veins. She put the stone where she was and inhaled deeply. No one was looking at her.
"Khal Drogo!" Her brother's voice interrupted the celebrations, he was angered for something "When am I going to get my army?"
He was demanding, and the Khal misliked that. Drogo rose from his seat, towering over Viserys. She saw her brother flinch, but not back down.
"Jorah!" her brother barked and the old knight was right by his side in the blink of an eye "Translate"
"Your Grace, I do not think..." Illyrio started.
"Shut up! He has his bride now, I want my army. Tell these savage, that If I don't get what was promised to me I will take away what I sold to him"
What he sold.
Dany was no longer a person to him. Had she ever been? Not since they lost their mother's crown. And she would never be again, not with what she was about to do.
Khal Drogo acted so fast she could barely see it, he took his arakh and cut Viserys's neck. Her brother's blood splashed over her husband's face, and his body fell to the ground, a large chunk of flesh separated for his neck showed veins and blood that reminded her of some pig's meat sold at the market. Khal Drogo turned around, blood dripping from his face, and drank from his cup.
Dany stared at the scene, frozen. Watching as her brother's blood bathed the earth. Tears stung in her eyes, but this time she did not try to stop them.
Viserys was dead. Her brother was dead. The person who raised her. The person who hurt her. He was gone now. Despite all the pain he caused her, she could not avoid feeling sad for his death. She could not help but cry for him.
He's dead. I'm the last; she sobbed at the thought. The last of House Targaryen.
And then, Dany felt angered. Angered at the loss of her brother, no matter how monstrous.
Dany raised her gaze, looking up to her husband with a rage she did not know she possessed. Khal Drogo met her gaze (black eyes that showed no emotion), and for once, he did not terrify her. Drogo walked towards her, but his eyes closed and he lost his balance. The Great Khal fell to the ground, and his bloodriders came to his aid, but it was for nothing. He was dead. Dead like her brother.
The bloodriders shouted in a language she didn't understand, in Dothraki. One of them, Mago, pointed at her. Jhaqo joined him, shouting at her. They knew she did it. They knew she poisoned him.
Save yourself the sorrow.
But had she? They were going to kill her now. Mayhaps death was a better fate than the one that awaited for her had she not killed Drogo.
Killed.
No, murdered.
She murdered someone. She was a murderess. That did not matter now, she recognized as Drogo's bloodriders grabbed her, she was going to die too. Jorah and Illyrio were trying to stop them.
Only death can pay for life.
The voice that chilled her to the bone seemed to whisper at her ear. Whose death? Hers?
"I did it!" She yelled, but they could not understand her "Ser Jorah, please, tell them I did it."
Ser Jorah said something in Dothraki, something that enraged the bloodriders. Mago's fist connected with her cheek, Dany's head fell to the side, her ears ringing and her vision blurry.
She heard shouting, but could not make out what they said. She could not understand anything.
"They believe you're a maegi, child" Jorah's voice said, or she thought it was him.
Illyrio did something, or so she believed, for she was back in his manse, in her room there. She was locked in there, alone. Dany had no way of knowing how long she was there, it felt like days, but it could not be more than a few hours. Laying on the bed in her wedding gown, drying her tears with the pillow. The left side of her face burned, hurt, in a way she had not been hurt ever before.
What would they do to her? They would not send her with the dosh khaleen, she killed her husband. What would they do? How would they kill her? How did they kill witches?
Briefly she considered eating one of the mushrooms, but before she could Illyrio and Jorah came to see her.
"The pyre is almost finished, Princess" Illyrio said somehow sadly.
Pyre?
"Will they burn me?" she asked, her voice smaller than she had intended.
"I fear so, child" Jorah shook his head "Why would you do something so foolish? Killing a Khal? Your husband?"
She shrugged "To save myself the sorrow"
Ser Jorah snorted "Well, now you will die. They will burn you, as they do with maegis if they can"
A maegi was a witch who practiced the dark arts, who layed with demons and was knowledgeable in blood magic. Dany's ancestors practiced blood magic, but she did not.
"We know you poisoned him" Illyrio played with the decorations of his beard "There are a certain kind of mushrooms that grow in my gardens, and they are missing. Of course, the Dothraki are a superstitious people, they believe you killed the Khal with your eyes only. That is why they allowed you to stay here until the pyre was built"
"Allowed? They are frightened of her"
"Not all" Illyrio pointed out.
No, not all. If they all feared her, Mago would not have punched her in the face. She wished she could indeed frighten them, if so she could rid herself of the death sentence that now hanged over her head.
Only death can pay for life.
Her death, it seemed.
When night fell, they came for her. The Dothraki walked her to where the wedding had been celebrated, outside the walls of Pentos. She walked escorted by all of Drogo's bloodriders, while Mago and Jhago stood before the pyre. She walked amongst the forty thousand warriors Drogo used to have and their slaves, all of them making way for her. The pyre was large, as large as her rooms in Illyrio's manse. Drogo's body and his horse were put there in the centre. But it was not only that, her wedding gifts were in the pyre as well. The books, the weapons, the silks and Dothraki garbs, a grey filly she had not ridden and the dragon eggs. Dany took a deep breath, and allowed them to tie her to a post in the pyre. There was no escaping her fate.
Mayhaps it had always been death.
Or maybe, there was something waiting for her after.
They lit the pyre, the dry leaves caught fire immediately and the fire spread throughout the pyre and its contents. She saw the lifeless bodies of the horses burn, the silk disappear in the flames and Drogo's body burn. But when the fire touched her, she felt no pain. The flames danced around her, like the Dothraki women had during her wedding celebrations, yellow and orange and red. The ties that bind her to the post disappeared, as did her gown. The fire cleanse her, purified her. And then, she heard a crack, two cracks and three cracks. The pyre gave up, collapsing, and she fell to the ground with pieces of wood, ashes and leaves covering her body.
When the morning came, the flames vanished with the body of Drogo and his horse turned into ashes. The filly and her gifts were ash as well. Dany sat on the remains of the pyre, a small green dragon curled around her left shoulder, while a cream-colored one curled around her right. And in her arms, laid a larger black dragon.
Dany stood, the Dothraki who were still there knelt before her. And for the first time in centuries, the world heard dragons singing.