Growing Pains

The journey through the Red Wastes to Qarth was every bit as taxing as I'd expected. And yet, there was one thing, one teensy tiny thing I managed to change, even though I was the size of a fucking chihuahua in my new dragonling body.

Watching my new 'mother' try to feed Viserion and Rhaegal with uncooked horse meat was almost painful, as she fumbled with the raw flesh and they steadfastly removed to go for it. She's tried to feed me some of the stuff earlier as well, and I'd been a bit more receptive, fighting down Drogon's draconic instincts to try and have a go at it.

… Yeah, I wasn't ever fucking doing that again. Raw meat tasted fucking AWFUL. About as awful as it would to a human, or so I assumed. I'd never had anything but well done to medium well in my past life so I couldn't really confirm one way or the other. Suffice to say, dragons did not consume raw flesh. It just wasn't digestible.

Mm, my past life. Thinking about who I truly was and how I'd ended up in a dragonling's body… I was certainly calm on the whole matter. I probably died. Or I didn't and was simply plucked from my old life in my sleep. Funnily enough, while I could acknowledge that I was remarkably at peace with the abrupt change from human on Twenty-First century Earth to Dragonling on whatever the fuck era Planetos, I couldn't actually get upset about it.

I figured that was by design. My mind wasn't allowed to panic or shut down or go insane. Whatever had done this to me, hadn't wanted to watch me freak out, if the mysterious force/being/whatever was anything like the Omnipotent Beings I'd always written about. No, I'd undoubtedly been put into Drogon's body for something's amusement, or for some great purpose. Either way, the end result was the same. I was allowed to understand how fucked up all of this was… but I wasn't allowed to have a conniption fit over it.

Whatever, it didn't matter to me. We were finally stopped for a moment, the small group of Dothraki that still followed Daenerys making camp for the sight, since the sun was setting and it was getting fucking cold. As such, I could finally put my idea into action. Crawling forward from the rock I'd been sunbathing on before the sun finally set over the horizon, I crawl up to my mother and brothers.

Daenerys' violet eyes land on me and I see the way she stiffens a bit in worry, while at the same time leaning towards me slightly without even realizing it. I stare up into her eyes and after a moment, she offers the piece of raw flesh to me. I claw it out of her fingers, careful to make sure I don't accidentally tear through HER flesh in the process.

With both she and my brothers watching on, I pin the raw meat to the ground and finally attempt to put my plan into action. I open my mouth… and I try to breathe fire. Unfortunately, it doesn't work. I know for a fact that I'll be able to breathe fire soon though, given it only takes a couple months for Daenerys to teach Drogon the 'Dracarys' command in canon.

As such, I SHOULD be able to just do it now, right? I am a creature of fire. Even in the cold, even now I can feel something akin to a small furnace in my chest, my gullet. I should be able to blame some of the hottest flames that have ever been felt on this world. My first attempt ends in a feeble cry that makes it look like I'm trying to roar at the uncooked meat for some reason.

I don't give up though. My second and third attempts are no better than the first. My fourth however, yields a result that has Daenerys gasping in sudden understanding. I do not breathe fire as I'd hoped to do, but a small plume of black smoke finally does leave my open maw, washing over the raw flesh in a way that tells Daenerys all she needs to know.

"Cooked… you need COOKED flesh! Fire! I require a fire, now!"

Of course, some of the Dothraki are already setting up such things now that the cold is coming. In no time at all, I'm settled beside a fire with my brothers, watching lazily as Daenerys sears horse meat over the open flames by literally just holding it out in one hand. She does not burn, but the horse meat does and it burns satisfactorily.

I allow Viserion and Rhaegal to both have first bites, but then I shoulder my way past the two slightly smaller dragonlings. Daenerys moves to stop me as I begin to feast on far more than my 'fair share', but I simply lash at her hand with my tail. Not enough to split the skin, but enough to remind her of the times I'd disciplined her so far since coming into this world.

Much to my pleasure, the silver haired Targaryen girl pulls her hand back, watching in mute silence as I eat half of what she's cooked. When she makes more, I once again let Viserion and Rhaegal each have a couple bites, but then I steal the rest of what she intends to be theirs for myself regardless.

You see, I have a theory that I must put to a test, and not even Daenerys Stormborn of the motherfucking House Targaryen is going to stop me. Not when there are so many threats coming our way. Basically, I'm hoping that the faster I start eating, the MORE I manage to consume… the faster I'll grow. Daenerys' dragons grow slowly at first in the show. And then they have rather large growth spurts that seem them capable of riding quite swiftly.

The way I see it, their growth spurts probably came from when they finally started to fly away and feed themselves. Once they were able to become gluttons on sheep from the farmlands around the cities Daenerys would inevitably conquer, they grew in leaps and bounds, Drogon most of all.

Well, I wouldn't abandon Daenerys out of hand like the canon Drogon had, but I also wouldn't settle for anything but the fastest path to growing big, strong, and powerful. There was too much about to happen for me to just stay passive going forward.

Time passed and eventually Daenerys ran out of horse meat to feed us. It had all come from her mare, which from what I remembered, had died from exhaustion a day's travel back. Regardless, once properly cooked it'd felt delicious. And I felt bloated, nice and full as I crawled my way into Daenerys' lap. The young woman looks around furtively for a moment as I snake my tail underneath her leathers, but she doesn't try to move me.

Good girl, she's learning fast. I've done this with her almost every chance I get, and the young woman is far, far too adoring of me and my siblings to truly put her foot down. With my head resting on her inner thigh and my body nice and curled up, I drift off to sleep with my tail running back and forth along her swiftly moistening slit. Daenerys is soon gasping, trying to hold in her moans, but I make sure to bring her to at least one climax before I finally fall asleep.

I'm actually getting quite good with my tail, and quite skilled at finding the weak points along her slit and clit. When her frame shudders and she has to huddle over me to contain her reaction to the reluctant orgasm I've coaxed out of her, my lips curl back and my rows of sharp teeth show in a very human-like grin, even as I let my eyes shut and sleep take me.

-x-X-x-

Fuck I hate the damn cage. During our trek across the Red Wastes, I barely ever let them put me in it. I even had to bite Daenerys' fingers once to make it clear to her that the cage was a no go for me. Eventually though, she'd learned. I'd rode on her shoulder, or on top of the cages that my brothers were kept in whenever I could tell she was growing weary of my weight.

Regardless, when we finally approached Qarth, only then did I hop down and allow them to place me in the cage. A roughly spun blanket it tossed over myself, Viserion, and Rhaegal, and despite a desire to roar my discomfort more than once, I kept silent as Daenerys 'negotiated' with the Council of Thirteen.

As in the show, the Spice Merchant fucker is a total ass. Though… if I'm being completely honest, that's probably my bias speaking. If I was in his position, I wouldn't just be a complete dickwad, I'd probably have the guards slaughter the rest of Dany's followers including her last protector, Ser Jorah Mormont. Then, I'd have myself and my brothers put to the sword. Daenerys would either live as a pleasure slave or die as a khaleesi alongside all of us.

It was the smart move. Unfortunately for the Thirteen of Qarth, they were not truly a smart people. And I was not in the Spice King's head, no I was in Drogon's head. And so, when we were let into the City of Qarth on the back of Xaro Xhoan Daxos' declaration of Sumai, I once again smiled a human-like smile beneath the blanket that covered my temporary prison.

These idiots wouldn't know what hit them.

-x-X-x-

"Dracarys."

I eye Daenerys in silence, even as my brothers obey her command and burn the pieces of meat in front of them with dragon fire. She pouts at me, her violet eyes troubled as I refuse to obey. After a moment, she leans forward, her beautiful face and full lips inches from mine.

"What is it Drogon? You must learn to breathe fire. Your brothers understand, why do you not?"

Turning my head away and my snout up draws a choked sound from my new mother.

"You… you do understand. But you will not obey, will you? My most willful child, what must I do to earn your favor? Do I… do I not already give enough?"

I let my eye slide back to her, watching her as her eyebrows scrunch up and her lips curl downwards into an expressive frown. Still, I do not yield. Not until finally, the golden word passes through her lips.

"Please Drogon… please."

I immediately turn towards the piece of meat before me, angling myself so I am facing out over the courtyard that we are currently overlooking. The resulting plume of dragon fire that leaves my maw is a good three feet long and quite wide, but it hits nothing and no one but the meat in my path, which is cooked instantly.

Of course, I certainly manage to surprise those standing guard below, as well as Doreah, Daenerys' traitorous handmaiden who even now is watching from my mother's side. The girl jumps back with a cry of alarm as the heat washes over her despite my directing it away from her. Meanwhile, the last Targaryen doesn't feel even a bit of it as she lets out a gasp of delight and quickly picks me up.

I allow this indignity as it places me right up against her chest. In her new style of dress, flowing long robes instead of Dothraki horse leathers, I can slide right down her top and hide beneath her garments with no one truly understanding what I'm doing… besides Daenerys of course. Fortunately, in her moment of happiness, the silver haired beauty has forgotten about my new habit.

Quickly taking advantage of this, I slide down through her cleavage as she lets out a yelp and stands up. Before she can even begin to try and extract me, I've shifted around until I'm in my proper place on the front of her body. My growing wings spread out along her sides and my front claws dig ever so slightly into the small of her back as she stiffens. This gives me the time to slide my tail down between her legs, the length of the ever-growing appendage going all the way down her slit and up between her ass cheeks now.

At the same time, my head pokes back up from beneath her dress, nestled perfectly between her breasts. My eyes meet violet irises and Daenerys lets out a sigh, slumping in defeat even as Doreah closes in once more.

"You spoil him."

I glare at Doreah, though given the difference in species, I don't think I really get the point across with my look. She's looking back at me, but with greed and a lust for power in her eyes. This one is a traitorous cunt and while she's certainly pretty, I'll be perfectly happy to let Daenerys lock the bitch in with that other fucker, Xaro Xhoan Daxos.

It's unfortunate though, that I'll have to allow myself to be taken. I'm half again the size of canon Dragon by this point, if my memory serves me well. I have also been working on my fire breathing, and by this point I imagine I could fight off servants sent to capture me alive. However, I'm not one hundred percent sure. What I am sure of, is that if I let myself and my brothers be taken, Daenerys will come for us, we will burn the House of the Undying to the ground, and Qarth will fall as a result.

The straight and narrow will see my mother rising to her place as Queen, and that's the only place I shall have the woman I intend to make some sort of dragon consort. Oh yes. Daenerys must stay powerful and she must become wealthy… after all, how else am I going to amass a hoard of gold and maidens both? How else am I going to grow even bigger still, on the meat that the position of Queen will allow my mother to provide?

"I must spoil him. Dragons are not tamed Doreah. They are never tamed. These are wild and savage creatures. But one can bond with them, befriend them. Viserion, Rhaegal, and even Drogon… I think they know that I am their mother. I believe they feel affection for me, kinship with me… we were all reborn in that pyre in a sense, after all. Drogon is just a bit more… willful than his brothers. If I attempt to control him, it will not end well, I know that much."

Doreah bows her head a this.

"It is as you say Khaleesi…"

I continue to glare at her as Daenerys steps away from the ledge and allows me to keep my perch within her dress. I reward the beautiful Targaryen with a bit of molestation, my tail working away at her clit… and perhaps just a bit at her ass as well, the tip of it flicking against her sphincter. To her credit, the violet eyed young woman keeps her composure, even as she moves slowly to the bed.

The resulting grin across my maw is hidden by me nuzzling into her delicious, soft boob flesh.

-x-X-x-

God it was tempting to burn everything. But no, I'd let it happen. And now here we were in the House of the Undying. Daenerys had gone through her little spirit walk and finally arrived in the room where my brothers and I had been chained to a pedestal. I thought I might just be able to break free of the chain. The metal strained around my neck, thicker than my brothers' necks as it was. My body was stronger and more than that, I had a human mind. I had already thought about hooking my claws into the chain links binding me to the pedestal so that I may tear them apart and fly free.

But no, for now I remained where I was as I watched Daenerys approach us. And then, Pyat Pree was there, twice over.

"They missed their mother. They want to be with you."

God he sounded slimy as fuck. Then the second one spoke up from the opposite side of the room.

"Do you want to be with them?"

"You will be."

"When your dragons were born, our magic was born again."

"It is strongest in their presence."

"And they are strongest in yours."

And then there's a third one. Holy fuck, they're bouncing back and forth and damn, this is actually a really, really creepy scene. I hadn't realized how much of a horror genre moment this was in the show. Probably because the Warlocks weren't quite as secure as they thought, even with their vaunted magics.

"You will be with them. Through winter, summer, and winter again. A thousand, thousand seasons, you will be with them."

And then Daenerys has manacles around her wrists and there's a fourth bald fucker talking as they wind her chains tight.

"And we will be with you, until time comes to an end."

As Daenerys' arms are pulled taut in each direction, the Pyat Pree in front of her steps forward, being as creepy as the rest. I ache to blast him in the face with dragon fire… but I'll let my mother have this one. It'll be good for her, for her self-esteem.

"Welcome home, Daenerys Stormborn."

I take note of the rest of the identical Warlocks vanishing. It is only the one before us now, as Daenerys answers him.

"This is not my home. My home is across the sea, where my people are waiting for me."

"They will be waiting a long time."

He delivers it so fucking deadpan, like holy shit I want to wipe this fucker off the face of this world. When Daenerys looks back at us, chained up as we are, and I see the gleam in her violet eyes, I can't help but grin savagely. Here it comes. She looks back to the Warlock, as he leans forward to stare at us. And then she says it. One simple word.

"Dracarys."

It is the first time I follow the command. It might be the last, but never say never right? Regardless, a ball of dragon fire leaves my gullet, sailing out from under Daenerys' arm and striking Pyat Pree directly in his chest. His robe immediately catches alight as the less impressive flames of my brothers join my own on his body.

Pyat Pree screams as he falls to the ground, trying, yet failing to put out the dragon fire. He burns to death and it is fucking glorious. But of course, there's still the matter of getting free. Daenerys looks back to us and even as she gives the order once more, I'm testing my physical might against my own chains. Viserion and Rhaegal burn through the metal shackles encasing Daenerys' wrists, leaving her flesh completely fine as she in turn frees them from their collars.

Meanwhile, I've freed myself already, hopping down off of the pedestal and making my way swiftly across the floor. While our mother is focused on my brothers, I am aiming for the greater prize. My jaws descend and I take my first bite of burnt Warlock. It's fucking delicious. I keep eating, even as Daenerys' voice reaches me.

"Drogon! Drogon NO! What are you doing?!"

I turn my head to look at her as if to say, 'the fuck does it look like I'm doing?' She can't honestly expect me not to partake just because the flesh was human, can she? She'll get over it eventually, I distinctly remember her threatening to feed people to her dragons several times in canon. I continue to chow down, devouring as much of Pyat Pree's dead body as I can.

Suddenly however, I'm beginning to feel a little woozy. It's as I stumble back from the Warlock's body in a sort of drunken haze that Daenerys' next words reach me.

"Drogon! Drogon!"

Belatedly, I remember something important. The Warlocks of Qarth, of which Pyat Pree was one, drank a strange, thick blue wine knew as the Shade of the Evening. It allowed them to do… to do something. Shit, my head was swimming. Letting out a weak cry from my maw, I fall back as my eyes roll around in my skull.

Damn… warlock bastard… drugging me with… his tasty, crispy flesh.

Mother FUCKER.

x-X-x-

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