STORMBORN || HOTD

The Birthright

The light was fading, and the sun dipped toward the horizon, casting a golden hue across Dragonstone’s rugged landscape. The shadows of the cliffs grew long and ominous, but still, Daenerys refused to give up. They had spent the entire day searching, walking through the wild paths, Rhaenyra growing more exasperated with each step. Daenerys, however, had remained resolute, her eyes scanning the skies for what she knew was there—her dragon.

"Enough, Daenerys. It’s time we return," Rhaenyra insisted, placing her hand on her younger sister’s shoulder, her tone softening with exhaustion. "Maybe finding a dragon isn’t your destiny."

Daenerys halted, her feet rooted in the rocky ground. Slowly, she turned her head, giving Rhaenyra a look that made her elder sister flinch—an expression that screamed are you truly that foolish?.

"My destiny?" Daenerys repeated, her voice laced with conviction. "Finding dragons is not my destiny. It is my birthright, and nobody can stop me."

Rhaenyra let out a laugh, though there was an edge of nervousness to it. "Birthright or not, little sister, perhaps you can fulfill it another time. For now, we must return. Nightfall on Dragonstone is no place for a child."

But Daenerys was no child. Her eyes flashed with the certainty of a woman who had once commanded dragons and armies, who had seen cities burn under her command. Before Rhaenyra could tighten her grip and pull her back, Daenerys felt something—a shift in the air, a snap that sent her heart racing.

Something ancient stirred.

Rhaenyra’s hand jerked back from Daenerys's shoulder as a dark, massive shadow eclipsed the fading light. A guttural growl rumbled from above them, and Rhaenyra instinctively stepped back, pulling Daenerys behind her. "Stay behind me!" she whispered urgently, eyes scanning the sky.

But Daenerys stepped forward, her heart pounding, drawn toward the shadow as it descended with a powerful gust of wind. The ground shook beneath them as it landed. A hulking black form, scales like midnight, and eyes burning crimson with an eerie familiarity.

The Cannibal.

Rhaenyra gasped, her voice shrill as she backed away in fear. "Daenerys! Get back! That’s the Cannibal—he devours people and dragons alike! Sixteen dragonkeepers were lost trying to tame him. You have to come back now!"

But Daenerys did not move. Her violet eyes were locked on the beast in front of her, a knowing smile spreading across her face. This dragon, fierce and untamable, reminded her so much of Drogon—the connection she had felt with her dragons in her past life. She could feel it again, pulsing in her blood.

She ignored Rhaenyra’s panicked cries and walked closer, her heart calm despite the chaotic energy around her. The Cannibal lowered its massive head, its breath hot and rank, and for a moment, Rhaenyra was certain her sister would be devoured in an instant.

But Daenerys reached out, and her palm touched the dragon’s snout.

The fearsome beast, known for its uncontrollable wrath, didn’t react with violence. Instead, it nuzzled gently into her touch. The shock in Rhaenyra’s eyes was palpable as she froze in place, unable to comprehend what was happening.

"Daenerys, no!" Rhaenyra screamed, her voice filled with desperation. "Please, come back. That dragon—he’s killed men for less. This isn’t your place!"

Daenerys didn’t listen. She felt alive again, more powerful than she had in years. Without a word, she stepped closer to the Cannibal, the ground trembling beneath her feet. In one swift, graceful movement, the dragon’s massive snout lifted her off the ground, tossing her gently into the air.

Rhaenyra screamed again, certain that her little sister would be torn to shreds in an instant. But Daenerys landed effortlessly on the dragon’s back, her hands gripping the scales as though she had done this a thousand times before. There was no saddle, no restraints, nothing between her and the raw power of the dragon beneath her.

For a moment, everything was still. The Cannibal let out a deafening roar, one that shook the very stones of Dragonstone, reverberating through the cliffs. The dragonkeepers who had been watching from afar came running, their faces pale with fear. None had dared approach the Cannibal in years, and now, a child—barely more than five years old—sat on his back as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

With another roar, the Cannibal unfurled his massive wings and leaped into the air, leaving the ground behind in a blur. Rhaenyra fell to her knees in shock, watching in horror and awe as her little sister flew off into the twilight sky, riding the most dangerous dragon alive.

High above, Daenerys laughed as the wind whipped through her silver hair, the cool air biting at her skin. She felt alive, reborn as the queen she had once been. The weight of the past, the burden of the mistakes she had made, faded with each beat of the dragon’s wings. Up here, she was no longer the uncertain child of this world, but Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen—the rider of dragons.

As she soared higher, her hands resting comfortably on the Cannibal’s powerful scales, she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, feeling the pulse of the dragon’s heartbeat beneath her. This was where she belonged.

Rhaenyra could only watch in stunned silence from the ground, her mouth slightly ajar, as Daenerys flew off into the distance. The Cannibal, the uncontrollable beast that had terrorized Dragonstone, had found its rider.