Chapter Text
The Great Hall of Dragonstone was hazy with smoke of braziers and immense stoked hearths, and heavy with the smell of roasted meats. Fitting, for a building in the shape of a colossal stone dragon. Banners of black with crimson three-headed dragons lined the walls. A singer was playing the high harp, her calloused fingers quick and skilled across the dozens of strings while two small children with flutes accompanied her.
Their long entrance through the Great Hall had been a traditional process; Daenerys had been escorted in-arm by the king then it had been Ser Connington and Missandei, as befitting of their ranks.
In preparation she had been bathed in fragrant water, her hair being brushed until it flowed down her back like liquid silver. Numerous delicate braids were woven through the gleaming tresses, with her customary bells added, while the fire opal diadem rested upon her crown. She wore a black silk gown with a gleaming train of chiffon that was as dark as ink. The sleeves of the dress were so long they near touched the floor, lined with crimson felt. Dragons were embroidered across the corset in golden thread, with more fluttering about the hem of the skirts. A necklace of black and white diamonds encircled her neck with a ruby the size of her fist hung in the middle, directly over her collarbone and just above the low cut of her bust. She made no attempt to cover the scarring upon her face.
King Aegon had matched her, clad in Targaryen red and black much like herself, with a cloak that looked as if it had been weaved from fire and the circle of black steel upon his head.
Daenerys, as the honoured guest of the king, was seated up upon the highest platform in the room and overlooking the hall. She was placed with Missandei at her left and King Aegon at her right, while the king had his Hand seated upon his other side. Behind her stood Ser Barristan, fully armoured and barely moving more than the statues lining the walls, with the Kingsguard with the dark streak through his hair being at the king's back. Below them were the lords and personal entourages including members of the king's council, and further down were the benches were the soldiers, guards, various smallfolk and servants not currently working the night were seated.
When they had been seated King Aegon gave his gracious toast and thanks were made, were returned, and then the feasting began.
There was an immense pie with numerous smaller pies surrounding it so it looked akin to a crown; the meats were of deer, sheep, pigeon, rabbit, boar and lamprey with all covered in scatterings of saffron and cloves across the golden pastry. Soups ranging from mushroom with buttered snails, creamed leak and cold egg lime to cauliflower and mead-boiled onion with lamb. There was an great bowl of plum broth with mutton and raisins. Chickens stuffed with oysters, roasted stag with buttered carrots, bowls of stewed fish mixed with almonds, honeyed lamb with slices of braised pork accompanied by a giant crab from the Shivering Sea that was roasted in garlic while being the same size as a pony.
There was no sign of any horse nor dog.
Daenerys ate in a calm, steady manner, enjoying the feast strewn before her and the rumbling hum of dozens of conversations. The Great Hall was warm and smelled of ash and food, the delicate harp music and ballad coiling about the laughter and rambunctious noise of the gathering.
"Fret not, Your Imperial Highness," Maester Haldon told her. "There is a much more grand event prepared at King's Landing for your arrival and tourney."
"As long as it is not salted marching rations nor horse jerky I am content," Daenerys replied before taking a mouthful of roasted stag.
Jon Connington mostly favoured the soups, stews and fish but whenever he went for the more meaty dishes a servant would carve them into smaller pieces to compensate for his missing arm. The king himself seemed determined to sample every dish, even if Daenerys noted at one point the Hand refused to let the serving maid give him any more wine. Daenerys herself had long lost her taste for wine beyond paltry sips so kept her goblet full of fruit juice.
"There are many events planned, such as the jousting, melee, archery competitions, along with battle reinactments," the maester continued. "Our recorders are still trying to wrangle fact from fiction in the War of the Five Kings yet I am quite confident in the accuracy."
Daenerys knew enough from Missandei that he was a pseudo-maester, due to being self learned instead of tutored at the Citadel of Oldtown as tradition, but with his closeness to the king he was given the rank of Grand Maester upon the small council. Typically the Citadel would send their choice elected through the Conclave of the Starry Sept but due to the damage the High Sparrow inflicted, along with the devasation of Euron Greyjoy's attack. they had rapidly ceased in protests. Missandei also mentioned the previous Grand Maester had been Tywin Lannister's loyal dog for decades, using his position to bolster House Lannister's position.
'It was he that convinced King Aerys to allow Tywin Lannister's army into King's Landing during the Rebellion, which then caused the deaths of the king along with Princess Elia and little Rhaenys and thus the Targaryen dynasty fell. I can see why King Aegon does not trust the opinion of the Conclave when their last choice was a shill of the lions who aided so deeply in the downfall of House Targaryen,' she had said.
Trust meant a great deal, and those who learned by roaming the world and applying their skills could have just as much as those taught within the lofty Citadel. Daenerys had to wonder how much of it was still standing, considering the confused reports of the Reach. No matter, it was not her kingdoms. Not anymore. For now, she was and always would be, an honoured guest of Westeros, just like her entourage.
Her bloodriders were a source of curiosity to many in Dragonstone; unless they had visited Essos, none would have seen the Dothraki due to the horselords immense superstition and wariness of the sea. The maids were especially curious.
"I heard many of the lords and ladies of Westeros are also going to be in attendance," Daenerys said, watching as one of the serving maids skittered about the bench to present another plate of fresh bread before her bloodriders. Rakharo seemed far more interested in that than her.
"Much honour and coin is to be won through these tourneys. And last minute trade agreements through the port of King's Landing, as winter settles in it is best to finalize such things when you are still capable of traversing Westeros. The allure of the prize will also draw many, if supplies are needed to help tide over potential famine," Haldon was saying.
"Has the snow begun falling heavily yet?" Daenery asked. In Essos it was still quite mild and the climate hadn't changed when she had visited Meereen and Qarth between wrangling the rest of the continent into control. Even Lyse had a dryness to it, the sunny isle still fertile and vibrant. There was no snow, barring the typical cold climate far north towards the icy seas.
"Nothing settled so far, not to the point of being impassable," Haldon said. "Most would be within the North yet it is customary I've been told."
"I know that in the North summer snows are actually quite common," King Aegon said. "It is why the maesters warn against letting down your guard when the start of winter is as mild as it is now. We have frosts, sleet and snow, but nothing that is burying entire cities and holds. But as we've been told, these is usually months of dry spells or mild or even hot weather, until the tundra fully bears down upon us."
"Westeros has had false springs before," Missandei added while cutting up her buttered carrots into neat even slices.
"And it has been the longest summer in Westerosi history. I would only hope we do not see a decade of ceaseless tundra," Haldon said, a crease between his eyes as he took a sip from his goblet.
"The narrow sea has grown wild of late, yet I have many skilled sailors under my command and through the friendship with House Greyjoy in supporting Lady Asha. I am sure we can continue mutual relations in keeping provisions supplied to Westeros if need be," Daenerys offered.
"And we look forward to such a continued friendship with the empire of the east," Connington said, observing her with a watchful gaze.
As they trudged through the courses of the grand supper, most of their conversations remained debating the risks of the coming winter and the political turmoils of Essos and Westeros. The Lyseni, Lysono Maar, knew a fair amount more than he shared as Master of Whispers for King Aegon's court. And no doubt he knew through his connections of how Daenerys had dealt with his homeland even if he voiced no complaint.
After all, Lys had been wise enough to accept Daenerys's demands to remove themselves from the slave trade and accept her empire's oversight. Well known for their bedslaves, they were less inclined to try fighting against her demands as she relentlessly closed her fist around the remaining Free Cities across the continent. Traditionally the isle was loathe to risk its own citizens, instead relying upon its wealth to hire free companies. With so many destroyed during the failed siege, they had little choice but to surrender. She wasn't foolish enough to believe in their faithfulness to her rule, at least not right away, so was keeping a close watch upon it like the other slaver cities. Plots and poison were a favoured weapon for the city, so she kept Una close. Evenso she had enjoyed spending time at Lys the Lovely, where the blood of Old Valyria still ran strong. It was fascinating to see so many others sharing her colouring, even if the sheer amount of offers to be her imperial concubine had been an annoyance. At one point an entire family of seven siblings offering themselves up as her personal harem during her stay by simply waiting for her unclothed in her guest chambers, barring some brushes of gold dusting, which Missandei found unduly hilarious.
'Seven is a lucky number in Westeros,' her friend japed, even if Daenerys found it less than funny.
Truthfully she knew no one would really care if she did have a personal harem and she got various offers over the years as her prestige and strength grew. She was also beyond caring what her enemies thought of her, after the smear campaign the slave masters had tried against her. Daenerys had reached a apex within herself that now ceased attempting to reconcile with her enemies and bow for their respect; she learned too late that lesson in Meereen, until she violently corrected it with the trials. Now her purpose was to safe guard the hundreds of thousands under her care, rumours and salacious affairs no longer concerned her and quite frankly she doubted any of the freed slaves would care either as she had also been propositioned by a few even if she always turned them down with grace.
It's why she did not care for any rumours Westeros may utter about her- the king had been amendable to her gesture of friendship and alliance, and that was all that mattered. Let the nobles hiss and mutter about her lack of husband or barbaric manners or overly violent actions. It was nothing new, especially as Ser Barristan warned her about the games those of King's Landing liked to play.
The last course was served as their discussion shifted more to the stabilizing of Westeros. Daenerys helped herself to a slice of apple pie mixed with pine nuts, fragrant with cinnamon and a honey glaze, along with a pear cooked in red wine with mulberries, a heaping of sugared plums, along with a small cream custard tart, even as Missandei spoke to Connington about the slow integration of Casterly Rock as the new hold for House Greyjoy. Daenerys was glad Lady Asha's aspirations for the future of her people was bearing fruit, even as Yara remained a close envoy and in alliance with Daenerys. It had taken several weeks of contact, debates and conversation until such a thing came to potential fruition and she was still grateful King Aegon was amendable when she reached out upon Lady Asha's behalf with the proposal.
Yet another enemy of House Targaryen was gone. Lady Myrcella, the last of the Lannisters, was to be wed into a lesser family of Dorne. Much like House Baratheon coming to an end. Daenerys was content with such a vengeance, that her House was flourishing with dragons returning even as her enemies died. She may not seek it out herself, as she was now bound to Essos and thus would not interfere with the ruling of the king. However the vicious part of her deep at her core, the part that would always insist upon fire and blood, was satiated.
The Great Hall had grown louder as the feast came to a close and wine and ale was poured more freely. Some space had been moved below where people were dancing and the harpist had changed to a more lively, vibrant tune compared to her more somber and elegant playing of earlier. Down below Daenerys could see Lessa smiling and talking with one of the guards, her face animated and bright. Meanwhile one of the serving maids was leaning against the table, speaking to Jhogo with wine-flushed features. The bloodrider was certainly amendable to the serving maid's advances.
Daenerys didn't worry about her khalasar overstepping; from the very moment Ghidorah had hatched and they had witnessed it, they were hers forever. While walking through the Red Waste, her rules had been made clear- none were to abuse one another, the Dothraki tradition of fighting over the women and taking them would not be tolerated. Rape would not be tolerated by any of them, not her bloodriders even after a victory over their enemies. It was rules they followed without complaint, as the Dothraki viewed them as belonging to her and thus to harm another in the personal khalasar was to give insult to her personally. Daenerys did not particularly like the idea they saw it like that, yet at the same time understood that culturally that aided in them obeying her rules, much like with the spreading of word of Ghidorah being the Stallion. It was also one of the reasons she trusted them implicitly, to accompany her across the narrow sea while the rest of the horde remained in Essos.
As always at the back of her mind was Ghidorah's presence. The golden dragon had landed beyond Dragonstone's curtain walls, the ragged slopes of the mountain unnoticed by his golden bulk. The great stables in the courtyard could have held him once, but at his current size even landing within the courtyard would have been an uneasy task.
All three of King Aegon's dragons were present, with the purple remaining perched upon one of the great towers, the orange at the edge of the cliff overlooking the sea and the white further up across the arch that lead to an ancient pathway up the Dragonmont. None of the three drew closer to Ghidorah as he remained coiled up beyond the wall, even if many of the guards were more interested in watching the golden dragon than patrolling the area.
Back within the Great Hall Daenerys sipped at her goblet, Connington was speaking of the restoration efforts for some aspects of the keep. While the glossy Valyrian stone was impervious to time, it had become a lost art after Aenar Targaryen and the refugees of Old Valyria faded away. Additions to the keep had been left to wane, even moreso after the neglect from the Baratheon host. While some, like the portraits, had simply been stored, others had been vandalized or worn. Others weren't from the Rebellion but rather left to languish after the Dance where paths to the great caves where the Targaryen dragons would land or be mounted. Clearing the ruined paths where slips and erosion had occurred over the centuries.
Daenerys had not fully investigated the isle, doing a few curious passes until manners dictated that she land, but she still felt burning curiosity to explore more of her birthplace.
"Dragonstone is an ancient hold but certainly not one of the largest. Still, it's situated upon a rather inhospitable mountain which is making clean up slow. At the very least the obsidian can be sold to various keeps and traders, to be turned into weapons, implements, tools, ornaments, and mirrors," Connington was saying.
"I would love to explore more of the Dragonmont, regardless," Daenerys said before looking at the king at her side. "Visit some of the natural caves, where the ancient dragons made their nests and where only wings can reach. Your Grace, forgive me for being presumptuous but have you ridden one of your dragons yet? I would be honoured to fly with you, so we may explore the volcano together."
A strange stillness settled over the men around her, and after a long moment King Aegon shifted uneasily as he said, "I...I have thought about such a thing, yet I have been counseled to await for them to grow to a greater size."
"I saw one of your dragons as I flew overhead earlier," Daenerys said. "I'm certain they are getting large enough to ride. I flew upon Ghidorah for the first time when he was not much larger, and that was accounting for his additional limbs. My bond with him deepened drastically after our first flight together and through my various readings and own experience a dragon and rider only truly bond with one another after their first flight."
Jon Connington's face was carefully blank as he said, "We were hoping to wait for the dragons to be a more suitable, robust size. There is also the fact we have not yet begun to make a saddle."
"I didn't have a saddle when I went upon my first flight. I did not have one until after the siege of Meereen, which in hindsight was quite unwise," Daenerys winced slightly. There was still the scar tissue marring her forearm where one of Ghidorah's fangs had punctured her flesh. Shaking that off, she continued with, "I don't believe a first flight without one would be too hazardous. I feel more connected to Ghidorah while skin-to-scale with him. A short flight would cause no harm, I believe, and I can share the designs I brought of how Ghidorah's own saddle was made."
"Would not some recordings be left behind in the Dragonmont?" Missandei inquired. "If not from blacksmiths, then the Dragonkeepers?"
"The Dragonkeepers are centuries gone," King Aegon said.
Daenerys thought of the priests she had encountered in Old Valyria and fought a frown; she had a strong idea the Storming of the Dragonpit during the Dance would have gone immensely different if the Order of the Drákontos were present. Then again if such a thing happened in Old Valyria, the dragonrider would have burned the entirety of King's Landing down to protect the dragons instead of sitting idle upon their throne as Queen Rhaenyra had done while her House's greatest treasures were murdered. The lives of dragons would always be more invaluable than lives of smallfolk and Daenerys had a terrible idea of what she would have done during such a situation.
Shaking off the tide of morbid thoughts, Daenerys instead said, "What is lost can be rebuilt. Especially with such fledglings."
"As it is, it would seem the vast majority of secrets in caring for dragons was passed along with word-of-mouth," the king said, dark indigo eyes thoughtful as he stared down into his goblet. "We've searched much of the remaining pit that we can reach, but there is very few things left behind. Either that or Robert made sure to burn everything he could regarding dragonriding."
Daenerys grimaced, "Well he failed in killing us all and dragons have returned. So I would encourage you to try, I am more than willing to offer what advice I can to you."
"Perhaps it would be best to leave such discussions for the morn," Connington cut in as the king went to reply. "As is, some thoughts may be addled by the free-flowing wine."
The king looked irritated but she saw the glint in his eyes; she had little doubt he would accept her offer, regardless of the disapproval the Hand was offering.
Once the world had been seen from dragonback, nothing else compared.
And she was proven right when the following morning came and, during a private breakfast of porridge with honey and berries along with slices of ham with fresh crusty bread with butter, that there had been a messenger sent to Daenerys inquiring if she would be willing to meet the king shortly after to discuss the potential of taming one of the dragons. Missandei, who had joined her, simply arched a brow with an amused quirk to her lips but helped Daenerys change into her riding clothes while Ser Barristan guarded the door.
"I would hope King Aegon has a strong grip and a lack of fear towards heights," Daenerys said, finishing buttoning her coat even as Missandei brushed her hair back into a utilitarian braid. "It would be unfortunate if his grip failed."
"No Targaryen has fallen off their bonded dragon, so there is that comfort," Missandei said, calloused fingers quick and nimble.
Daenerys also didn't believe she counted, as she had been knocked off Ghidorah's back by that hideous horn and he had managed to catch her in any case. She said as much as she turned and helped Missandei with securing her butterfly-embroidered corset with the buttonhook, the two women lightly bantering about the potential issues a dragon bonding could be. Daenerys had not wanted to push the king, aware that as much as she was an honoured guest she was still a guest, but when she had sent the letters detailing her mental link to Ghidorah the king did not seem to have such a one as with his dragons. She didn't know if it was because there were three, so there was less of a central focus, or because he had not flown upon one yet. Still, she would make herself available for any questions and best answer them yet dragons would always be their own creatures.
Once done- and Missandei finished slipping her various knives within her clothing -they left down to the courtyard within the curtain wall with Ser Barristan and Strong Belwas as their guard. Ghidorah was already awake, all three heads hanging over the wall to eye the nervous flock of people milling about down below. The weather was calm and clear, the Dragonmont's persistent heat keeping the morning chill at bay.
Daenerys was rather amused at how many people were in the sprawling courtyard, especially those who were attempting to feign tasks. The king himself looked almost as nervous, and Daenerys noted that much like herself he was wearing more practical riding clothing than the elaborate cloak assemble that he had greeted her with previously. Some of the guards had to move along the servants simply trying to see, and Daenerys did not fail to notice how disapproving Jon Connington looked. He obviously wished to wait, but the king had overruled him. Daenerys could understand both sides, yet understood how she had been ready. She simply had wait for Ghidorah to share such a mood when she first requested she ride him.
Now she could sense Ghidorah's curiosity; he still was largely uninterested in the dragons beyond idle curiosity, even if the only one that had dared to follow him in flight had been the one of white and green.
"Your Grace, I hope your sleep was well," Daenerys greeted the king.
"It was well enough, Your Imperial Highness," his lips quirked slightly even if she could see the tension in how he held himself. Had she looked as nervous?
Shaking that off, Daenerys looked around the courtyard and then the looming draconic keep before them.
"I found a flight from the cliff-side the easiest," Daenerys offered. "Ghidorah did not become large enough for easy vertical take offs until some time later. The courtyard would be large enough for a running start, but for a first flight it may be easiest to have a better way for the dragon to gain altitude."
"I still believe we should wait until a saddle is-"
"I made my decision," the king cut off the Hand with a sharp tone.
Jon Connington was tense but did not voice another complaint, even as the king agreed with her suggestion while offering his arm. As it was, Dragonstone had a great abundance of cliffs and the nearest was a simple walk. Ghidorah shifted his immense bulk and after several flaps of his huge wings he was settled down along the cliff with his great barbed tails dangling over the edges. Down below the village was already bustling with life despite the way the sun had only just pulled itself free of the horizon.
"Is there a particular dragon whom you feel most drawn to?" Daenerys asked as she walked next to the king. Behind them were their respective Hands and their guards, followed by the more curious lords and ladies and a covered wagon.
"I...feel closest to Dawn, she is the one which is most accepting of my presence," Aegon said. He wasn't wearing his crown and it somehow made him look younger than her.
"The one named for Princess Elia," she said quietly, thinking to Barristan's words of her late good-sister. A gentle woman with a quick wit and ready smile. A woman who, like so many others, did not deserve her horrific fate.
"Yes."
"Then we shall try her," Daenerys said. "But just remember, the dragon must accept you just as you accept them. You cannot force a bond. Old Valyria may have used magical horns and whips but that is long past. Now they chose us, when we go to them."
"With your Ghidorah, when did you know he accepted you?"
"I asked him, through out bond," Daenerys explained, boots sure and light over the rocky ground as they headed towards the beckoning cliff. "I...am unsure as to how closely you've replicated such a bond, as there are three to my one. Even if Ghidorah's heads think differently from one another, so in a way there is three."
"They do?" there was a child-like wonder in the king's voice, as his gaze darted over to Ghidorah's great golden bulk.
"Very similar yet different," Daenerys shrugged, the movement jostling the king. "But I still knew enough of him, and had to await his acceptance of me. So I would encourage you to be firm yet respectful. A dragon is not a slave."
There were more hesitant questions from the king, even as they stopped upon the great overhang with ample room to spare. In the end Daenerys had tried to make it as simple as possible; the dragon must accept him, and must treat them with respect yet show enough authority and to be sure in himself the dragon would respect him in turn. That the dragon had to trust him, both as a companion and rider. It was difficult for Daenerys to fully articulate her bond with Ghidorah, that it was burned into her blood and brain, but she did her best just as Aegon did his best to understand her explanation in turn.
She was more surprised when he showed her the whistle that he had been training the dragons to respond to- she would just reach out to Ghidorah mentally to gain his attention and vice-versa -but did not challenge the idea. His dragons were largely free roaming, with large pens built with sheep and cows near for their feeding. He had been using freshly roasted meat to lure in the dragons, rewarding them with it whenever they answered the whistle. Mutton was their preferred meat, which amused Daenerys as Ghidorah did not particularly like sheep. He hated how the wool would get caught in his fangs, leaving Daenerys the task of plucking the soggy fibers from his maw whenever he devoured some.
Now the wagon had been dragged forward, the cover pulled back to show the roasted sheep spread across the boards and thus all three of the dragons responded to the whistle in anticipation of their favoured meat. The three dragons of King Aegon- Dawn, Yndros and Wildfyre.
The one that landed the quickest was the silver-and-green, landing with a shrill shriek before snatching up a chunk of roasted meat in its narrow jaws. The purple and orange dragons followed at a more sedate pace and Daenerys watched them at a safe distance as they ate. Ghidorah snorted from his position, making the purple-and-black snap its jaws at him and shift back on all fours, but otherwise the golden dragon didn't move.
They were quite small and it was still a marvel to Daenerys to remember when Ghidorah had been so tiny she could hold him in her arms. Still, as she eyed the orange-and-blue dragon as it swallowed down a chunk of cooked meat, she knew it was large enough to carry a man of King Aegon's size. Much like with any riding they would have to adapt to one another as weeks, months, passed. But she truly believed the importance in the first flight being without saddles, to show the trust both rider and dragon would have in one another for the rest of their lives.
They were near enough the same size as Ghidorah was when she rode him for the first time that she felt confident in her decision.
Daenerys took a single step forward once the wagon was bare and the dragons fed, eyes darting across the trio; Dawn was the largest but only slightly, with a blocky, almost square-shaped snout and backwards sweeping horns. Meanwhile the silver had a snout that was narrow like a blade, but had the largest wings of the three. The purple dragon remained at a greater distance, more watchful than the others. Something tugged at Daenerys's heart as she looked over its sparkling amethyst hide with the black wings.
The silver dragon meanwhile was the only one of the trio to take umbridge with her increased proximity as she took another step forward; the great frill around its neck flared out as the dragon shrieked at her as its webbed tail lashed.
She heard Aegon scold the dragon, his hand gripping at her shoulder as if trying to tug her away. Ghidorah was also watching intently and she knew his breath could reach the fledging but Daenerys was not afraid. So her son remained where he was even as Daenerys brushed off the king's hand before she stepped towards the agitated dragon as its neck frill flared again in a flash of green.
"Sagon gida, zaldrizes," Daenerys ordered, putting all of her authority into her voice, one which had commanded armies, as she stared unblinkingly into the dragon's gleaming green eyes. "Nyke hen aoha anogar. Undegon issa se rybagon naejot issa."
The dragon bristled and hissed, smoke coiling up from its nostrils. Its neck seemed to double back upon itself, like a snake about to strike, yet Daenerys did not drop her stare. She had seen monsters beyond any Targaryen dragon upon Old Valyria and lived to tell the tale, and she was bonded to the greatest dragon to ever exist. A short-tempered fledgling did not frighten her, would not make her cower.
And after a moment Wildfyre snapped its jaws shut, frill closing tight, long serpentine neck bowing down until that narrow snout was nearly touching the grass. Its wings shifted, belly lowing to the ground with its shoulder and neck exposed. It remained in that position, lax and submitting. Ghidorah grumbled, the noise more felt than heard.
Satisfied the silver-and-green dragon understood, Daenerys turned to Aegon who looked shocked at what had just happened. She touched him lightly on the cheek, making him jolt before his indigo eyes met her own violet ones.
"Remember, you must have their trust and respect," she urged. "You are blood of the dragon. Go to Dawn. Let her see that, let her see your strength and fortitude so she will trust you upon her back."
Bolstered by her words, King Aegon approached the orange-and-blue dragon which went willingly towards him. Daenerys watched as he patted at her snout, speaking to her lowly in Valyrian as the dragon accepted his touch. Meanwhile Yndros had retreated further back near the cliffside, clearly uninterested now that it had been fed.
Meanwhile Wildyre made a low noise, crawling across the grass to get closer to Daenerys. After a moment she reached out a careful pet the dragon's silver neck, the scales shimmering like pale platinum in the morning sun, before she turned and went to Ghidorah. She was confident that Dawn was adapted enough to the king's presence that she would not reject him, and they had spent many weeks already discussing the issue in their letters.
Ghidorah's necks coiled around her in a gleaming golden thicket, left-most head tilted so she could clamber up his horns and up onto the bare expanse of his midmost neck. It was nearly as wide as the back of the dragon's down below.
As she sat in place she could see down below King Aegon carefully, slowly, coaxing Dawn down onto her belly. He was far less forceful than she had been towards Wildfyre but she understood. They knew each other, just as she knew Ghidorah when he first accepted her suggestion. As it was Wildfyre had remained lying down and considering his aggression Daenerys was not about to complain. Even if she kept her features impressively blank at how awkwardly Aegon had to flail up Dawn's back, nearly falling off her until he decided to sit at her neck with his legs dangling down either side.
Had she looked as clumsy, when she first mounted Ghidorah? It hadn't seemed important at all, at the time. Even the watching crowd seemed to fade away, just as it had done for her.
She saw Aegon look over to her from his awkward perch, hands clutching at the scaled neck before him, and Daenerys gave him an encouraging smile as she gestured towards the cliff even as Ghidorah got up in a roil of great golden limbs. He did not yet take flight, instead waiting for the small orange-and-blue dragon down below.
There was a command in High Valyria, sounding almost like a shriek of nerves, before Dawn surged forward with her blue wings flashing as she charged the cliff with the king clinging upon her back.
And then they were up and off into the air in a flurry of wings, the second dragonrider since the extinction of dragons so long ago, and with a great roiling boom Ghidorah followed after Dawn and Aegon even as Daenerys started to laugh.