The Fallen Queen - A Game of Thrones Fanfic

Chapter 1 - Rebirth

Author's Note:

The events of this fanfic story follow the episode finale of the Game of Thrones TV Show.

B.

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He was tired, his wings had been used and abused to an extent, but he kept going. If dragons could shed tears, he would have drained hi existence long ago.

Drogon had always been the stubborn kind, and amongst his brothers, he was the fiercest and most dedicated and loyal companion their mother could have ever ask. There was a rage in him, and pain, but he had an idea deep inside his mind and he just had to try it before giving up.

While his wings ached, he focused on that emotion, that anger that kept him going. He knew his instincts were right all along, he knew that half man was going to betray her. If only he had expressed his discomfort and distrust to her mother, he wouldn't have felt so guilty now.

At far, he finally saw the steaming mountains; they were close, and he only had to push himself a bit more. The Fourteen Fires were still smoking, just like the last time he had been there. The waters were murky, and the fog was thick.

He flew past the first rocks and shore, but he didn't stop there; he flew further into the land, higher. His eyes set on one of the deepest pits of the Fourteen volcanos and he flew into the fog and smoke, reaching its flowing surface. He screeched, and finally, he let her body go. The body landed on the surface of one of the small rocks, and the lava boiled around them. His head tilted to a side and, with careful moves, he pulled the dagger out of her and threw it away to the lava. The weapon landed on it, yet it did not melt. The magic that forged it was valyrian after all.

He needed to rest, his body was beyond exhaustion, and he knew nothing or no one could hurt her anymore. This was the proper place for his mother to lay final rest.

His wings helped him reach higher ground, but still within the volcano, and there he collapsed, his eyes looking over her mother one more time before he closed them.

Dragons could not dream; but if they could, he would have gotten nightmares. Days went by where he was one with the rocks, he had lost everything and everyone he knew and loved. There was no need to exist anymore.

Again and again, he played the events in his head, he saw him just before he went to his beloved mother, and even then he didn't stop him. Humans, by all means, were despicable.

He heard thunder, but the rain never came. He lost interest and track of time. He became dormant.

Then a noise bothered him. In his dormant state, he was still disturbed by something. It took him time, probably days, to regain consciousness and open his eyes again. The molten red fire pit had not changed, so he didn't even bother to look around. But a whimper came to his attention and he became alert. He lifted his head and shook it lightly, he became dizzy quickly but ignored it.

He was able to crawl to the edge and look around, and when his eyes set on the core, his heart started beating fast and hard. His beloved one laid there, where he had left her, but her clothes were burnt by the lava flames, and her body was pale with spots made by dark ashes. She was definitely alive; her body moved but she was asleep. Could it be true? Did his mother revive? Or was she never really dead?

In her sleep state, she moved again and Drogon lifted his body and flapped his wings. Her hand reached the edge of the rock she was on and she whimpered again as some lava brushed her fingertips.

He rushed down and took her in his claws, lifting her up and taking her away.

But where was safe for her? He found some high ruins and carefully left her back there. He pushed her gently with his head, his happiness was extreme. Her mother was alive.

He laid there watching her closely, and she moved from time to time, but she did not awake. In the following days, he moved some, flew around to find something to feast on, and then returned to his mother. She was lost in an endless dream.

Only stonemen were found around them, and even they left the area afraid of the big dragon. Drogon found livestock in near lands, his hunt was fast and deadly. He brought different animals and ate them near her, leaving the skin and fur to be used later around her. He looked after her and patiently waited for her to come back to him.

But it wasn't going to be easy. Daenerys was indeed alive, but the pain and suffering she went through after her last betrayal, made her lost into herself and not wanting to come back. She had dreams in which she relived her choices, she was living them again and again, she saw her mistakes and her miss positioned trust. She felt hollow, she didn't even know she could feel. She thought it was her punishment; for wanting too much, and for believing others would understand her, believe in her.

In one of his hunt flights, Drogon heard a loud cry. He dropped his recently caught prey and rushed back to where he had left her. He landed in his usual spot, and got closer slowly, where he found a pale and scared Daenerys, his mother, in a corner and with her arms wrapped around her legs. Tears and panic on her face.

When she saw him, she couldn't believe it still. She was awake, but nothing around her made sense. Drogon was there too, and he was worried. She sobbed as he slowly approached her, tame and docile, trying not to scare her. After all she went through, he was the only thing loyal and real for her. He laid his head next to her, and she finally lifted an arm to let her hand touch him. He was relieved, she remembered him.

They staid there for a while, she cried silently as memories rushed back to her head, more than the ones she saw in her dreams. She rested her hand on her upper stomach, and although it was healed, she could still feel the pain of the dagger that Jon stabbed her with. A pain that was nothing compared to his betrayal.

The sun was setting, when she finally was able to stand up. The tower where she was resting, was one of the highest. She walked to the edge and laid eyes on her surroundings. It took her a while, but she recognized the place. Not by her own memories, but for the memories of those who told her about it. Her ancestor's home, broken and fallen, just like her.

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To the readers:

Please leave any comments about the story or questions. I have read quite a lot and continue to read about the extense lore of the world of Game of Thrones, and the ideas I have for how it continues from here can be affected or shaped better by your thoughts.

If you will criticize, please do so respectfully.

Thank you!

B.