Rhaego's Chronicles

Prolouge

Daenerys was heavy with child and Drogo was dying, the Khalasar had already decided who would be Khal after Drogo even if Daenerys should give birth to the baby stallion who would mount the world. They will not and do not serve the weak. The foreign queen, her champion knight, her followers and her stallion were weak and unproven in battle, and she was the reason for her Khal’s death.

The witch thought she had gotten what she craved for and that she had gotten her revenge but, Daenerys despite being in labour ordered, Ser Jorah Mormont to seize her and hold her captive to face the dire consequences.

She feared the worst, that her baby would die or end up deformed. However, Vezhof  the Dothraki Horse god or perhaps the first men’s old gods or the Andals Seven or even the gods of old Valyria, which ever one it was, the gods blessed Daenerys Stormborn of house Targaryen, for she did the impossible and gave birth to a healthy son, at the cost of most of her life force. She would not live long enough to see the boy grow up in all his glory.

Rhaego’s eyes were a bright violet like a typical Targaryen but his hair was unusual. At first it was a set of thick locks of blackish brown hair like his father but it changed as he grew older until it was a set of beautiful thick  platinum white although not as vibrant as his mother’s, and little streaks of black hair could be seen as well.

He was healthy and had copper skin unlike his mother’s and the typical Targaryen pale skin. He was blood of old Valyria though.
His father’s genes mixed with his mother’s creating a perfect balance of both parents, due to both genes being so dominant.

Ser Jorah brought the boy to the dying Drogo and he held his son in his arms before he died.

Only death can pay for the life the witch had said. The Stallion born of Drogo’s seed will mount the world and like his ancestors had before, he will bring with him the fury of his armies, he will bring fire and blood. But such things are far off in the future, for now he is but a babe, unaware of the cruel world that lies ahead of him.

Two days after the birth of Rhaego, Daenerys asked the few men and women that had stayed behind to support her and her new born son, along with Ser Jorah to build a gigantic funeral pyre for Drogo and attached the witch to it and set it ablaze.

With her babe fast asleep in her arms and the three dragon eggs in a pouch made of Dothraki rags, she climbed the pyre to the horror and dismay of everyone gathered. She was blood of the dragon, her son was blood of the dragon, and fire cannot kill a dragon.

The witch screamed as she burned, saying that Daenerys will never again give birth, that her son will die in the flames, that she herself will burn with him.

But all of that would prove to be empty threats and lies to prevent her from accomplishing what had been foreseen some hundred years or so ago. The rebirth of the Dragon Lords and the birth of the Stallion who will mount the world.

As the fire went out and smoke faded, a squall could be heard, the baby was still alive and well, still suckling at the breast of his mother’s teat, if it were only this men would’ve perhaps believed it when told.

What shocked Ser Jorah and the rest of the minute khalasar even more were the screeches of not one but three baby dragons for what else could they be? The eggs were gone and in place of them stood three dragons, on the shoulders of the khaleesi who carried her babe abreast.