( ACT II; the age of the dragon. )
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chapter 7: yunkish herald and a hangover.

THE sun shown down mercilessly from the clear, Essos sky, not a cloud visible against the vast expanse of blue. The heat was almost unbearable, but the Targaryen army needed to reach the next slaver city as soon as possible; supplies for the large host were running low. With the force numbering over ten thousand, rationing had been put into place to prevent them from starving, which was on the horizon if they didn't reach Yunkai soon.

Through the heat, the Unsullied made their steady trek toward the next slaver city, which they would hopefully arrive to the next morning if they pushed through the night.

Vaegon was unfortanetly hungover from the previous night, leaving his head pounding and his tongue dry. He wore a cover of cloth over his head to shield his eyes and neck from a potential sunburn as well as to conceal his obvious disposition from his army and those alike. Sweat rolled down his back causing him to feel even more dirty than he already did.

"You're not fairing well," Selmy jested from Vaegon's side as they rode, the elder man flashing a smirk. Vaegon had been in an exhausted trance since they set off that morning.

"You fed me wine until I blacked out," Vaegon muttered in contempt. He slumped forward slightly, his hands resting on the withers of his horse to hold him up as he still clutched the reins. "And now I look like a drunken fool in front of my army."

Selmy chuckled, and said, "You could have made the effort to drink some of the water I offered you, and eaten some bread at that. But don't worry about your army thinking you weak. They will forever feel indebted to you for freeing them from slavery."

Though he was still conscious of his disposition, Vaegon had to agree with Selmy. The Unsullied would always be loyal to him, no matter if he stayed honorable or took a turn for the worse. They would always follow him, almost blindly in fact.

"Fair enough," He muttered to the knight. He rubbed his temple with a hand, eyes squinting closed.

"If we're lucky," Selmy went on to change the subject. "I'm confident Yunkai will be the easiest city for us to take. They are known for training bed slaves, not soldiers like Astapors."

"They won't face us in open battle, though," Jorah's voice tells them as he rounds his horse up besides them, having rode up from the rear.

"If not, they'll likely hole up behind their walls. Guerilla attacks, I'm sure," Selmy agreed with the Mormont. "But if I may say so, Your Grace, taking Yunkai does not help in retaking Essos. If anything, it will make it take longer. The journey back to Westeros will be pushed back even further."

The Targaryen knew that was the truth, but he didn't care. He could wait. He'd promised Daenerys he would make a change and he hardly ever went back on his word.

"I promised my sister I would free every slave that was within my power," Vaegon told the knights assertively. "Once I make a promise, I keep it. No matter what happens."

We've grown apart, he thought. But I made a promise.

"There are hundreds of thousands of slaves," Vaegon went on. "We've got a lot of work to do."

Though he does not see it, Selmy and Jorah share a concerned look. They mumble responses of understanding.

"I think we'll send a messenger to Yunkai ahead of us to inform the slave masters to surrender or suffer the same fate as Astapor," Vaegon goes on to tell them both. "See to it a messenger is sent."

Both of the older men dip their heads in understanding before peeling away from Vaegon's sides, goading their horses toward the back of the marching army to complete their task.

Vaegon continues to ride, his violet eyes trained ahead. The knights were right, he knew. Daenerys' desire to free the slaves were holding them back far longer than they needed to. Yet, as he had told them, he'd made a promise.

He would keep it.

♜

THE Yunkish were not a humble people Daenerys soon realized once their herald was carried on a litter into their camp. They had in fact reached the outskirts of Yunkai by the morning after last setting off on their trek. With the path lined with Unsullied that led to the Targaryen tent, she knew the thought of trapping the herald and keeping him for ransom had been voiced from Vaegon that morning, but with the vehement objections of Jorah and Selmy, he was eventually talked down.

She was garbed in a simple silken dress of vermillion and charcoal, representing their house while also keeping her cool from the Essosi sun. She'd had her silver locks, which had grown quite long since they'd first entered the Dothraki Grass Sea, pulled back into a braid to keep her neck and shoulders open to feel the breeze.

At her side, Vaegon had chosen to wear a doublet of charcoal as well, with his toned arms exposed. He'd chosen to cut his midlength hair to a cropped style against his head, the top portion being stiffened into place by a paste concoction purchased in one of the many markets they'd passed through on their journey.

He'd not made such an effort to look good in quite come time. He looked very handsome, she thought.

Slaves carried an ornate litter fit for a king, with a nobleman garbed in lavish robes seated at the top under the shade of a small roof made of flowing linen. Daenerys sneers at the sight as she caresses the muzzle of Drokar, who positioned himself close to her.

Her companion, Missandei, takes a step forward to announce the arrival of the Yunkish herald. The stranger is named Razdal mo Eraz, whom Missandei describes as one of the 'Wise Masters' of Yunkai. A self proclaimed title, no doubt. Many of the prominent people in Essos had a sense of arrogance about them that had done no good but strengthen her distaste for them.

As the litter is lowered to the ground, the herald takes a step down to greet them.

Daenerys tosses a piece of raw meat to Drokar and Haelyx, who fight over the morsel. The Yunkish herald gives a concerned look as he makes his way into the shade of the pavilion.

All three of the dragons hiss dangerously at the stranger, indicating he'd grown too close to where Vaegon and Daenerys sat. The herald paused a safe distance as his gaze never drifted too far from the dragons.

In the Common Tongue, the herald begins to speak to them.

"Yunkai was an ancient civilization long before the rise of Valyria," Razdal declares to Vaegon and Daenerys, his chin held high and his lips set in a firm line. "Armies throughout history have tried and failed to conquer it."

Daenerys looks to Vaegon, but sees him to be unphased. She smirked slightly to herself.

"A hard fought battle would give my Unsullied much needed practice. They have yet to be blooded," Vaegon counters.

Razdal appears to look worried at Vaegon's suggested threat. "Perhaps we could handle this with a different approach."

With a click of his tongue, Vaegon sighs.

With a snap of his fingers, Razdal summons his slaves forward. They carry a chest, heavy most likely, their chains jingling as they walked toward the Targaryen's platform. They place the chest in front of the platform and open it to expose an abhorrent amount of gold and jewels. More than enough to purchase the ships they needed to sail to Westeros.

"Yunkai is willing to overlook your attack on Astapor," Razdal begins to barter. "We will provide you with the ships and gold required to Westeros. We only ask that you leave Yunkai in peace."

Daenerys fears for a moment that Vaegon will take the deal, but she reminds herself he'd promised. She knows Vaegon too well to expect him to just accept gold and ships over her request despite their need for them. He was far too stubborn. And loyal.

"Instead," Vaegon counters, rubbing the short beard on his chin with his thumb and index finger. " I will spare the lives of you and the other Slave Masters in exchange for every slave, man, woman, and child. They will be given food, clothing, and as much property as they can carry in payment for their services."

Razdal looks utterly flabbergasted at the request.

"If my offer is rejected," Vaegon goes on. "Yunkai will be shown no mercy."

Razdal fumes. "Yunkai will be more of a challenge than Astapor or Qarth," the herald barked defensively. "Yunkai has very powerful friends to call upon. They would take much pleasure in destroying your army and enslaving survivors!"

"You must forget who you speak to," Vaegon uttered coldly, a brow raised.

The Yunkish heralds anger stirs the dragons, causing each of them to begin hissing and whipping their tails as they flap to the ground, just feet from Razdal.

"I was promised safe conduct," Razdal protests, his eyes never leaving the growling beasts.

"Our dragons made no such promise," Vaegon counters. "And they do not take kindly to their father being threatened."

Daenerys' violet eyes look to Vaegon, her heart faltering for just a moment. He had said 'their father', but never mentioned their mother. A wave of pain caused her features to settle like stone, her heart wounded and filled with anger.

The slaves move forward to try and reclaim the chest of gold and jewels, but the dragons snap forward and bare fangs that cause them to flee.

Furious, Razdal turns heel, muttering curses as he retreats to his litter.

Daenerys hardly pays attention to Vaegon as he speaks to Jorah, telling him to find out more about the supposed 'powerful friends' Yunkai had. Her eyes stay trained on the carpets of the tent before the platform.

Once the litter has turned and begun its trek back down the path lined with Unsullied, Daenerys gets to her feet. She storms out of the pavilion, a trail of vermillion and charcoal silk trailing behind her.

♜

VAEGON knew he had messed up. Daenerys had stormed from the pavillion as soon as the Yunkish herald had lost sight of them. He'd been too pumped with adrenaline to notice her leave, too high on his anger with the testy Yunkish to realize he had said something wrong.

He found her later in the night, sitting in candlelight in her tent. Since his duties with the Unsullied had begun to take most of his time, she'd chosen to have her own space, her own tent. He'd decided it for the best.

"Dany," He said softly while standing at the entrance of her space, waiting for her to give him permission to open the curtain. "It's me. I want to talk."

Softly, she said, "Come in."

He pulled aside the curtain to find her lying on her back on a pillow bed created by the servants, looking up toward the ceiling of the tent. Her violet eyes didn't meet his as he made his way over to her side and took a seat a few feet away.

"I want to first start off with an apology," he begins after clearing his throat. "I know what I said was wrong and how it affected you."

She didn't reply for a few moments, but soon he gained her violet look. Filled with resentment. "Do you?"

He cleared his throat. "I do. I didn't represent us as a single front. I tossed aside your inherent position with our children. I am sorry."

He watched as her expression changed between anger and sadness until she finally sat up to face him. She turned her body to face him, he legs crossed.

"You hurt me, Vaegon," she muttered. "I was made a fool in front of our enemy, in front of our advisers and soldiers. It seems as if my suspicion has become truth: I'm yet again just another body with an infamous name."

Her pain was understandable and it caused his heart to falter. How had he not seen it before? As the next in line for the throne after Viserys, Vaegon left Daenerys to stand in yet another shadow. Her claim of the throne was virtually nonexistent as long as he lived. The only thing she had to cling to for a sense of worth was their dragons, he supposed. Yet, she had far more worth to him than she must realize.

"I have done much to make you feel as if you are important, that you have a say in this campaign," he told her. "I have made an effort to topple Slaver's Bay, to bring some sort of justice to Essos. I don't know what else you want from me, Dany."

"What else do I want?" She spat, her face contorted into an expression of disgust. "Is my only other step toward being valuable or seen is to be in the form of your queen? Or is that taken from me as well?"

His words were caught in his throat, his heart pounding as her claim hit him harder than he'd expected. His chest began to grow tight.

"This is something I've longed to ignore facing," Vaegon uttered as he let out a long sigh.

"I'm sure," Daenerys replied harshly. A silver lining had begun to form in her eyes. "You wish to push it off until you're on the throne. Is your love for me so frail that you cannot claim me as your queen now? While we are on our conquest to take back our home? When we could—,"

"Daenerys," Vaegon cut her off, his voice loud and deep.

She paused, the silver lining in her eyes beginning to take form as tears that slowly began to roll down her flushed cheeks.

"My love for you is not frail. It is foolish of you to even believe so," he growled. "It is the reason that my position has grown to be so troublesome and painful. Do you think I do not wish for you to be my queen?" He looked her in the eyes, his heart pounding. "The reality is that, as a king with few allies in Westeros, I must give myself the ability to form alliances."

It was apparent that Daenerys was connecting the dots, as her face contorted into a pained expression. Her realization was setting in.

"If I wish to have a secure place on the throne, I must be able to take a woman from one of the noble houses as my queen.

The words felt like venom on his tongue. He hadn't quite thought about when he would have to discuss the reality with her, as he had with his advisors and himself. He'd pushed the conversation aside for as long as he could. There was no more waiting.

She didn't say a word as he continued.

"This is not what I wished for," he muttered. He felt his own emotion roiling inside him. "But it is the reality of it, Daenerys. It is the burden we carry as rulers."

She wiped away tears from her flushed cheeks and reddened eyes. "And will you marry me off to a lord, then? Will I be breeding stock once again?"

"No," he immediately answered. "You will not marry unless you choose otherwise. You will find love as you wish. But I must make it clear now— I must be available to take on another as my queen. As much as it pains me, I know it is the smartest course of action. I've long dreaded to have this conversation with you."

She chuckled with a sense of discontent before sniffling. "I remember when you promised me we'd be together. That you'd always protect me and we would do justice to Slaver's Bay. At least you stood with the latter."

She turned to lay on her pillow bed, he back to him as she curled in on herself. He wanted to desperately crawl forward, to hold her and take back everything he said. He wanted her, desperately, but he knew the wounds were inflicted and there was no going back.

Despite his emotions, he forced himself to get to his feet. His limbs felt heavy and his heart weighed him down as he pushed his way out of her tent and into the night.