( ACT I; sleeping dragon )
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chapter 10: the return.

DAENERYS pushes passed the skins of the dark tent, the sun blinding her sensitive eyes. Her lips are chapped, her belly loose and pain filled, and her throat dry. Her heart is heavy as she steps into the sunlight, shielding her eyes from the unforgiving rays. As she adjusts to the light, she sees emptiness before her. Just by the number of Dothraki present, Daenerys can already see that the majority of her late husband's Khalasar has abandoned them. Her shoulders slump once she spots Vaegon and Jorah, who are seated nearby. Once they catch sight of her, they quickly get to their feet and make their way over.

"Daenerys," Vaegon exclaims as he runs up. He pulls her into an embrace just as Ser Jorah as gotten to them. She sinks into him, feeling her sorrow grow.

"Rhaego," Daenerys says in a hoarse voice. "Where is my son?"

Vaegon pulls away from her to share a glance with the Jorah before turning his attention back to her. Daenerys notices the discomfort on their features and she can only feel dread wash over her.

"What is it?" She demands.

"He never lived," Vaegon began to explain gently. "He never drew a breath. He was. . . beyond helping. I'm sorry, love."

She feels the earth shift below her as her stomach drops. She wants to scream to the heavens but no sound will form inside. Her heart lurches in her throat.

"He was deformed, Khaleesi. Covered in scales with wings," Jorah confirms Vaegon's words. "We took the liberty of burying him soon after. You have been asleep for three days, Khaleesi. We could not wait for you."

Even though the overwhelming grief of losing her son consumes her, she still wants to find her husband. She'd already lost her child, would she lose her husband as well?

"Drogo, where is he?" She mutters softly. "Please do not tell me my husband is gone as well?"

"He's alive," Vaegon told her, but his tone was not positive.

"Take me to him," she insists immediately.

Though Vaegon thinks it's unwise to show him to her in the state that Drogo is in, they relent. They lead her to the area not far from the tent where he lies out in the open, where the sun is shining on his skin. He is propped against a rock in a seemingly catatonic state, dark eyes gazing into the nothingness. The witch responsible for that had supposedly healed the Khal was present, brought on the command of Daenerys.

As she touches her husband, nothing happens. She caresses his cheek, even kisses him yet he makes no reaction. She turns to the witch.

"Why is he like this?" She demands. She fears to know the answer.

"When you had 'saved' me, I had already been raped three times and the temple I served was defiled and burned to the ground," the witch elaborated. "My village sacked and looted and those who were not killed were enslaved."

Vaegon bristles as he realizes what this witch has done. He fights himself to not lunge toward the woman and choke the life out of her. Beginning to feel his rage build, he wonders how many times they all might suffer because of Daenerys' liberal kindness.

"For that," the witch went on. "I got my revenge. Now, the 'Stallion Who Mounts the World' can burn no cities and slaughter no innocents. Thousands won't suffer now because of Khal Drogo's son."

"I saved your life," Daenerys snarled. "I saved you from his men and this is how you repay me? Taking my son away from me and turning my husbands mind soft?"

"You did," the witch agreed. "Perhaps you should ask your husband what life is worth when all else is gone."

"When will he be normal again?" Daenerys uttered.

"When the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, when the oceans have dried and the mountains turned to dust," the witch cruelly told her. "When the sun has died and the moon has crumbled. That is how long he will remain this way."

Hearing the damning words, Daenerys looks to her husband, at the life that is no longer present in his eyes. She knows inside that he is gone, but she refuses to accept it. She thinks of a million different things that she could do to coax him back to reality, but every one of them seems to fall short. She leans her head forward against her husbands and weeps.

"Take the witch," Vaegon orders Rakkharo, one of Drogo's blood riders that had chosen to remain with them.

Gladly, the man took custody of the witch, dragging her away form the scene to leave the Khaleesi in peace with her husband. Vaegon watched as the they wandered away before focusing back on Daenerys. His heart lurched over the way she so desperately clung to Drogo and despite the resentment he still held for them both, he felt for his sister.

♜

A pyre stands in the rocky clearing, an abundance of dry brush arranged around the structure so that merely a spark could ignite it. Days have passed and after being forced to decide what would become of Drogo, Vaegon learned Daenerys had chosen to let him go. She never quite told him how she put her husband out of his misery, but he knew it was a hard decision to make and even harder to carry out. Now, after passing on, Drogo's body was placed at the top of the pyre, ready to be burned and diminished to ash.

The small retinue of Dothraki that still remained were gathered before Daenerys, who once again wore her pale violet wedding dress. Vaegon saw the grief painted on her face as she gripped a torch in hand, her white knuckles visible even in the evening moonlight.

Daenerys began to speak in Dothraki, the language Vaegon thought to be so dirty but in that moment he wished he could understand what she said. He knew in her words that pain was seeping, it evident in the way that she stood so rigidly and spoke so quickly.

His attention is caught as even more members of the small retinue begin to wander away, as if they'd just been waiting for permission to leave.

"She's allowing those who wish to leave to part ways," Jorah translates for Vaegon softly. "But she promises that if they stay, she will ensure they see a glorious future."

Vaegon eyes wander along those who walk away, until he notices the evil smirk of the witch who watches in mock amusement. The Targaryen scowls at the site.

Soon, Rakharo opens the chest near Daenerys' feet, which has the dragon eggs she'd been gifted to by Magister Illyrio. The blood riders begins making his way toward the base of the pyre where he places them in their own individual places.

Vaegon is confused as to why she wants them in the pyre, to possibly be destroyed or damaged. He is not surprised, though, to see the witch dragged to the pyre at Daenerys' command. The older woman struggled against the Dothraki that bound her to the structure until they finally have her secured and return to where they once were. By now, Daenerys has finished speaking and turns to the pyre.

"You will not hear me scream," the witch hissed from where she was bound. "You will not hear my cries."

"I merely want your life," Daenerys replied simply before she lowers the torch to the grassy fibers. Immediately, the tinder catches, bringing about a blazing light among the desert night. The witch begins chanting in her native tongue, causing an ominous tone to settle over them all as the bunting progressed. Daenerys turns to pass off the torch to one of the Dothraki, before looking to Jorah and Vaegon.

"I wish to be with my husband," Daenerys states calmly as she looks ahead toward the pyre.

"Khaleesi," Jorah is quick to retort. "You cannot."

"Are you mad?" Vaegon immediately scolded her despite the fear that was rising within him. "You're insane. Drogo is gone. Burning yourself alive in that pyre isn't going to bring him back."

Daenerys looked between them both with a blank expression. She stepped closer to Vaegon, until they were inches apart while she looked up to him. He looked down at her, seeing the dancing light of the growing flames on her skin. He knew how crushed she was but even if she was such a sad soul at the time, she was still beautiful.

"We can sell the eggs and travel far away," Ser Jorah tried bargaining with her as she stood in front of Vaegon. "You could buy an army and ships to take Westeros."

Ignoring the knights pleas, Daenerys leans up to kiss Vaegon's cheek before she pulls away and says, "I know you were going to leave me."

Vaegon is shocked at first when she says the words. His mind swirls with panic as the witches chanting turns into cries of agony in the near distance. His is unable to form a sentence before she continues.

"I saw you had reverted to your Pentosi garbs and your saddle bags full. Even your hair had been chopped," she softly pointed out. "Had I known you'd leave me, I may have let the witch take me as well. Perhaps then I could be with my son and husband."

"I saw nothing left for me here," Vaegon tried explaining as fast as he could, for he feared she may turn heel and walk straight into the flames. "I thought your life was permanently bound to the Dothraki. That there was nothing left for me here. What was I supposed to do? Already I have followed these people for nearly twelve moons, was I meant to follow forever?"

The witch's wails of agony mix with the sound of the roaring flames, which have already consumed the pyre and all its contents. The embers danced toward the sky effortlessly, as if Drogo had actually begun his ascent into the Night Lands. Soon enough, the wails stopped.

"There isn't anything left here," she agrees. "Nor will there ever be."

"Stop it with this madness," Vaegon pleads. "Please. There is more for you in this world than the what remains of your husband. There is me, Daenerys, I'm still here. Please, stop this."

She shakes her head. "I made an oath to my husband," she tells him. "I'll see him off to the Night Lands where he will rest."

Without another word, she turns toward the fire and takes her first steps, leaving Vaegon and Jorah where they stand in speechless fear. Amazingly, the first row of flames does not cause her to wail in agony as she continues toward the burning mass.

Vaegon shuffles from one foot to another as they watch her walk. He is torn between jumping into the flames after her and the fear of being burned alive himself. He clenched his fist the longer he watched her.

"She will burn," Jorah uttered in defeat while looking ahead. "To be with her dead husband."

"Gods dammit," Vaegon uttered angrily. "If I must die trying to save her, then so be it."

Accepting that he would be dead soon, he bolted into the flames after Daenerys. After making an awkward leap over the first row of flames, he continued in his pursuit after his sister. He entered another row, expecting the heat to immediately cause his skin to boil and crack. He was ready for an unimaginable wave of pain to consume his flesh and begin to turn him to ash. Instead, the further he ventured, he felt a heat that was more welcoming than ravaging.

From where Ser Jorah stood, he saw the last remaining Targaryen's run into a blazing fire, ending the dynasty of dragons as if it were merely a play at words for a children tale. He knew their house was mad, but were they mad enough to end their lives so easily? He didn't know what to think. The woman he'd come to love had blindly walked into certain death, with a man he'd come to view as a son chasing after her. The knight was crushed. In the hours that followed that the pyre blazed, Ser Jorah felt more defeated than any other time in his life.

♜

DAWN comes as a soft awakening as the horizon peaks with the soft colors of blush and violet. The desert is still silent as Ser Jorah opens his eyes, feeling the ache of sleeping in armor on a hard ground. He rises from where he'd lied on the hard ground after hours of dread, expecting to see two charred bodies clutching each other somewhere in the black charcoal mess that was now the funeral pyre. He pushes his way to his feet, the remaining Dothraki stirring as well.

While getting to his feet, Jorah blinks away the sleep from his eyes as he tries focusing ahead. When he spots something that has him questioning everything that he knew, he finds himself quick to make his way over. He steps over the charred outer ring of the pyre, his steps becoming faster and faster. Once he finally stops, he tries to find the words but cannot.

Amid the still smoldering embers, Vaegon clutched Daenerys as she lies curled against his chest. Their clothes have been burnt away, their skin covered in ash, and their hair turned a shade of grey but not a single mark has marred their skin. Vaegon looks up to the knight with a weary look and soon Daenerys' eyes find the knight as well, her violet gaze striking against her greyed skin. As she begins to sit up, something stirs in her crossed arms.

Everything Jorah thought he knew was now capable of being questioned. He watched as two people ran into a blazing funeral pyre to emerge without harm. He was even more amazed to see a tiny black creature emerge from Daenerys' arms. He looks up to see two more climb onto Vaegon's shoulders, a pearlescent hatchling on his left shoulder and a green and golden on his right.

As the two get their feet, the hatchlings grip to their soot covered skin. Jorah kneels to the mythical beasts born anew and soon the remaining Dothraki follow in honoring the born again dragons, having returned to the world after two-hundred years. The pearl white hatchling on Vaegon's shoulder rose on its hind legs and opened its soft looking, leathery wings before letting out a high pitched cry that no living person had ever heard and the return of the dragons was announced to the world.