Pairing: Daenerys Targaryen/Khal Drogo
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: They were to have a son, the stallion that mounts the world. Not all prophecies come true. Very AU story.
Some of you requested so here it is - my first Dany/Drogo Game of Thrones story. For the love of god, please be gentle with me.
The Dothraki people believe that everything of importance in a man’s life happens outside under the stars. That is where Daenerys gives birth. Her maids and one of the crones help her as the rest of the khalasar stand nearby, listening to her cries of pain, awaiting the first cry from the stallion that mounts the world.
The world falls silent however when the baby is pulled from her womb with one final push and she lifts her head to the babe in the crone’s hands. Drogo approaches. As father and leader, it is tradition for him to lift the baby for all to see, announcing his name, and then take him on his first horse. But something is wrong.
This is not a stallion. This is not Rhaego, what was prophesized. This will be Rahenys. A daughter born to Khal and Khaleesi and not a son. Drogo does not touch her. The baby is crying and he stares at her before his eyes sharply, almost accusingly, look down to Dany. His frown is heavy beneath his beard. Her eyes widen for she is just as stunned as he and she opens her mouth to speak, struggling to push herself up onto her elbows.
“My sun and stars,” she begins to say but he does not acknowledge the sentiment.
He, instead, turns and leaves, the khalasar parting for him as he walks through them. One of the maids, Jhiqui, gently passes the baby into her arms and she looks down at the pink daughter, her cries subsiding. It is now Dany’s time to cry.
“But the heart, the crones…” she says tiredly hours later as she and Rahenys lie amongst the furs of her tent, the baby sleeping in her mother’s arm.
“I know, Khaleesi,” Jorah responds softly, sadly, and he looks at her a moment before looking away.
“She was to be a stallion,” she then says in a whisper, looking at the baby with a heavy heart. Already, she has pale skin and a few strands of silver hair on her otherwise bald head but her eyes, when open, are identical to the black eyes of her father. Dany closes her own violet eyes and kisses Rahenys on her warm forehead. “But, you, my daughter, are also a Targaryen. And I will be the one to love you.”
She believed Drogo to love her before she was with child. In the least, he very much cared for her. But now, she does not know. It has been three days since the birth and he has not come to her tent once to see her or their daughter.
On the third day, Dany is able to walk without pain and with the baby in her arms, she steps outside into the cool grass and warm sunshine. The camp is a flurry of business as it always is but her eyes look at none of them as she searches for hers.
“He rides, Khaleesi,” Jorah informs her, suddenly appearing beside her to answer the question she is too proud to ask.
“I will wait,” is all she says and taking Rahenys, she goes to her silver filly. The three dragons, still babies as well and named for her two brothers and husband – Viserion, Rhaegal and Drogon – follow her where she goes, snapping their teeth and hopping along while learning to flap their still delicate, weak wings.
Taking the baby’s tiny hand, she places it on the neck of the filly, the horse remaining obediently still. “Your father gave me the wind,” Dany tells Rahenys. She kisses one of her cheeks as the baby looks with her father’s eyes at the animal. “He’ll give it to you someday as well, my Rahenys,” she says with a confidence that doesn’t falter despite the doubt clawing at the back of her throat.
On the fourth day, they pick up camp and begin moving again. It’s still tender for her to ride but she refuses the cart that is offered. She also refuses to let anyone hold Rahenys. It takes a few tries but soon, she is cradling her daughter with one arm while holding the reigns with the other and her back is as straight and her body is as steady as the Khaleesi should be. She sees Drogo where he always is – not at the front leading the long train but off to the side, watching nothing and everything, keeping watch over his khalasar.
She stares at him, not shying away, and instead, she tilts her chin out slightly, a signal to all that she will not back down. He stares at her as well but he doesn’t come to her. She hadn’t expected him to. She will not look away. She will not look away. She is Daenerys Stormborn, daughter of dragons, bride of dragons, mother of dragons and dragons stand down from nothing. But she knows that he will not look away either. He is Khal of the Dothraki, a warrior who has never lost a challenge. And so they are locked together – a battle of eyes and wills – and there seems to be no end in sight. She is tired of looking away first from everyone who comes before her.
Someone ahead shouts and Drogo instantly is turned towards the noise, away from her. She has won.
The small victory is a hollow one.
The dragons are screeching as they tumble about the furs on the ground of her tent. Dany sits on her floor with Rahenys in her arms, the baby nursing on her breast. The lit candles lick across their skin as a faint night breeze blow in through the open flaps. It feels as if it is getting colder but she does not feel the cold like others do. She is surprised and cannot hide it when the flap is pushed apart and Drogo steps in. His imposing figure looms in the entryway and he seems to have gone completely still. Dany wonders if they are to have another contest, if he is angry that he looked away first earlier, but then she sees his eyes look down to her exposed breasts and their baby suckling on one nipple.
“I’ve named her Rahenys,” Dany tells him in Dothraki. “She is strong like her father.”
Drogo still has yet to move from the open flap and she doesn’t think that he will. She has given him a daughter despite the eating of the stallion heart and the prophecy. A daughter instead of a son. For a Khal, this could very well be an unforgivable act. She has heard some of her maids speaking. He will not kill her but he may very well never come to her again. He will lay with others and one of those women will provide him with the son. And if he no longer wants the mother, he certainly won’t want the daughter either. Everyone in the khalasar is obedient to her, their Khaleesi, and have pledged their allegiance – especially true to their word after the emergence from the fire and the birth of the three dragons.
But Drogo is still Khal and he is still her husband. And she has failed him.
Rahenys completes her meal and Dany carefully and tenderly pulls the baby from her nipple. She does not cover herself though.
“I promised a throne,” Drogo speaks suddenly, his low voice rumbling and cutting down her back in a bout of shivers.
“For the stallion that mounts the world,” she says softly, nodding, looking down to Rahenys. She is now sleepy after eating and Dany can’t help but smile as she watches her. This is her baby. Something that is entirely hers; something that her brother hadn’t been able to control over her. But this baby is also Drogo’s and without him, there would be no Rahenys. And Dany loves them both. She doesn’t wish her mind to think of how it will be if Drogo rejects them. With her dragons, she is important to him but she wishes for more. She wishes for what they have shared in the past months of marriage.
Drogo comes to the furs and kneels down in front of her. He takes the baby from her arms and he holds her up in front of him, the baby so tiny compared to his almost gigantic frame. “Rahenys,” he states and Dany feels tears glass over her eyes but she blinks quickly to rid herself of them before they fall. A Khaleesi does not cry. Instead, a dragon brings herself up on her knees in front of her husband and sliding her hands onto his warm cheeks, she brushes her lips across his.
“I will get her a throne for a Khaleesi to sit upon, moon of my life,” he tells her, staring deeply into her eyes. The smile that bursts across Dany’s face is bright and blinding and beneath his beard, his lips turn upwards in a smile to match. “Come,” he then stands up with Rahenys in his arm. He then holds out his hand and helps Dany to her feet.
They leave her tent, the dragons nipping at her heels, and outside, Dany sees that all of the khalasar is present, torches of fire lighting where they stand. There is a black filly waiting before them, one Dany hasn’t seen. Drogo carries their daughter to the waiting animal and stops next to it. Stretching his arms and holding the baby above his head, he looks out at their people.
“Rahenys!” He announces to all before bringing the baby down again. The name is repeated by every man, woman and child.
Drogo then easily mounts the filly with Rahenys in his arms. Jorah appears with the reigns of her own silver filly and Dany mounts. Together, side by side, Khal Drogo and Khaleesi Daenerys ride forward and the people part for them, bowing their heads as they pass. Dany knows she should look forward but she instead looks to her husband and their daughter nestled safely in the crook of one of his large, muscular arms. He turns his head and their eyes, yet again, meet. This time, she hopes neither of them look away.