"Then Syrax came to her beloved, that lovely she-dragon appearing in the sunlight, and the evil necromancer's spell was broken at once."
"Aelion's spirit soared. He struck the black wizard with his final blow and split the sorcerer's dark body in two…"
Daenerys's distant ancestors had believed that dragons possessed wisdom equal to any human.
Dragons grew with the years and required careful shaping.
A human mind needed books to flourish. In the eyes of the ancient dragonlords, books were no less vital to a dragon than fresh, warm meat.
Without food they grew into stunted, half-dead creatures. Without training of the mind they remained nothing but dull lizards.
At least, that was what the scrolls given to her at the wedding claimed. Daenerys had never dared argue with the wisdom of her ancestors.
After all, no one alive today understood how to raise dragons better than the lords of old Valyria.
So she had shut herself in the garden with her books and her scaled children, trying to draw them in with the old tales of beauty and glory.
Not all the little dragons listened politely.
Sweet Rhaellys needed no encouragement. She lay quietly at her mother's feet as if she understood every word.
The emerald she-dragon—Daenerys was certain she could feel the gender of each—nestled against the silver-haired girl, occasionally giving a soft hiss while fixing her eyes on the mother seated in the carved chair.
Her brother and sister were far less attentive.
Black Aeksion, already larger than both his sisters combined, could not sit still for a moment. He flew back and forth, happily spewing bright columns of flame into the air, clearly bored by the ancestors' tangled love stories.
It was only a matter of time before he set the entire garden on fire.
Snow-white Sōnarys showed her disdain another way. She flew far off and sprawled in the middle of the lawn to sun herself.
The platinum beauty looked stunning in the sunlight, but she had clearly not heard a single word.
A flicker of frustration passed through the girl.
Were these little ones truly like human children—interested in nothing but play and roughhousing?
When she had been small and begged Lady Elyn to stop the dull lessons and tell one more story about her great-grandfather's daring adventures, had Elyn felt exactly this way?
She considered the possibility that the children simply disliked the book she had chosen.
After all, Viserys had once told her that boys and girls often had different tastes.
Daenerys had always considered herself the exception. She had always preferred the wars and heroes Lady Elyn and her brother told her about over tales of love and heartbreak.
But perhaps dragons needed something different.
"Hmm…" The girl closed the book about love and power with a touch of regret. "Maybe I should read you something about war instead. Something like The Chronicle of the Ghiscari Wars with Commentary and Lessons, by Aegon Velaryon. That sounds… well, it should be interesting. For you, at least."
Her beloved Viserys, the respected Lady Elyn, and the honored Eleonora had all taught her Valyrian.
In Volantis others had helped her strengthen the old knowledge, correct her pronunciation, break the Andal habit of swallowing sounds, and master the rules of the various syllables.
Now she could read the classical texts of her ancestors without difficulty.
If dragons truly understood human speech, they would understand the ancient tongue of the Freehold.
A small smile touched Daenerys's lips. She began to read to the three young dragons about the final great war between Valyria and old Ghis—the Fourth Ghiscari War.
The slave lords of Slaver's Bay had formed an alliance and even called upon the long-dead Sarnori, distant Qarth, and savage mercenaries from the far east.
The dragonlords faced their most severe test yet. The Freehold, of course, emerged victorious once again.
The great fleets of Qarth and the east were reduced to ash on the sea. The Valyrians sent only a single galley back to that ancient city of milk-sellers.
In the great land battle, Emperor Aegon Velaryon shattered the countless legions of Ghiscar and the army of the High King of Sarnor.
Afterward the Triarch accepted Ghis's surrender and carried off countless men and women as slaves.
The proud descendants of Grazdan were stripped of their glory forever. Their ancient arrogance was crushed completely.
Daenerys suspected the chronicle exaggerated for the sake of fine language.
It was hard to believe three dragons alone could sink a thousand ships, or that one emperor could take ten million Ghiscari captive.
But one fact could not be denied: by the time of the Fifth—and final—war, old Ghis could find no friends or allies left. Even its own colonies had turned against the ancient city's masters.
The independent history of Astapor, Yunkai, Meereen, and the other Ghiscari city-states of Slaver's Bay began right there.
The Sarnori drove Ghiscari envoys away as ill omens. Qarth refused to let them enter the city at all.
That so-called war had been nothing but a lightning raid meant to destroy the capital of the Ghiscari Empire. Daenerys's ancestors had committed a full hundred dragons to the strike.
Yes—the dragonlords of old had never believed in half measures.
As she read, the girl watched her children carefully.
Rhaellys remained at her side, seemingly willing to listen no matter what she read.
Her brother and sister had finally grown quiet as well.
The moment Aeksion heard of blood and fire, he dropped down beside Daenerys. The great black beast settled against Rhaenys and rested his head boldly in the girl's lap.
Daenerys kept reading the passage about armies being burned while she gently stroked Aeksion's still-slender horns.
Sōnarys glided lightly across the garden and landed beside her, clearly wanting to hear every word.
Daenerys did not read every line. She chose the best passages, and those clearly suited the dragons far better.
"It looks like you like this one," the girl said with a satisfied smile. "It's settled, then. From now on I'll read you stories like this. And you must remember—greater deeds are waiting for you…"
The little dragons hissed in unison. Daenerys heard delight and agreement in the sound.
She decided that once she finished these, she would find a scholar to translate the history of the Conquest into classical Valyrian.
They would love that.
She took a sip of cool water, then picked up the knife and the fresh meat.
She trusted no one else to feed and guard these priceless treasures.
The ancient dragonrider scrolls had warned her again and again: the first year of a dragon's life was the most dangerous. Loss of appetite, stunted growth, listlessness—all could prove fatal.
Watching her children eat with such healthy appetite eased her mind.
Fastest-growing Aeksion snatched his portion first and cooked it with a quick burst of flame.
Sōnarys followed at once.
Rhaellys took her share from Daenerys's hand with elegant grace. The air filled with the crisp sound of chewing.
They were healthy, lively, and growing almost visibly day by day.
Aeksion was already the size of a small calf!
The thought filled the girl who spent every day with her dragon children with pure joy.
After all, very soon they might not be her only children.
Not long after Viserys left, she had noticed strange changes in her body.
Nausea. A weariness she had never known. Occasional sharp twinges in her lower belly… At first she feared someone had poisoned her. But the physicians and Lady Elyn offered a different explanation.
She held her breath and waited. Her moon blood did not come when it should have.
One month. Two months. Still nothing.
She was with child.
The wonderful news arrived at the same time as the first ships carrying Lysene captives and chests of gold.
The people of Volantis celebrated the great victory. Daenerys and her closest retainers and guards rejoiced at the news for House Targaryen.
The nights and days since the wedding had not been wasted. She was finally carrying the royal heir.
Eleonora and Ser Jorah doubled their watch and cared for the girl with tireless devotion.
Now, in the garden, she could rest in peace and ponder the question that excited her most.
What name should she give the child?
If it was a boy, there was no question. He would be Aegon. He could only be Aegon.
Their eldest son would rule the Seven Kingdoms. He would have a beautiful dragon. No name could suit him better.
History had seen unworthy kings bear the name, but no dull man could ever tarnish the glory of the founder of the great Targaryen realm.
But what if it was a girl?
What name would suit their daughter?
Some names she dismissed at once. Others she weighed for a long, difficult time before letting go.
Giving up Helena was easy. Giving up the idea of honoring her and Viserys's mother was far harder.
Looking at the beautiful creatures enjoying their meal before her, she finally made her decision.
Without Visenya, Aegon would be incomplete.
If she bore a daughter first, she would name her after the rider of Vhagar, the conqueror of the Vale, and her royal brother's chief counselor.
The meat was gone.
The little dragons had eaten their fill. She could rest a little too.
The girl met their eyes. Three pairs of impossibly beautiful eyes watched her with quiet expectation.
Daenerys smiled at her children.
If the gods were kind, by the time she gave birth she might be able to ride one of them into the sky.
"I think, Rhaellys, that one day you will carry me," she said with a soft laugh at her own thought. "But for now, let's keep reading about the destruction of the Rhoynar army…"
The peaceful mother-and-children moment was broken.
Eleonora strode into the garden. The Valyrian blood in her veins meant she had no fear of the young dragons.
But her steps were hurried. She had clearly abandoned every trace of ceremony.
"My princess, you must prepare yourself," the woman said, her violet eyes fixed on Daenerys. "Ill news has come from the direction of Myr."