( ACT II; the age of the dragon. )
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chapter 13: rage of a dragon.

MEREEN presented itself with no army, no sort of show of force to instill any fear into the Targaryen's army that would soon enough besiege them. No, a champion was set forth from the towering wall-gate of the city, where the slaver masters and the noble and the wealthy all perched at the top to witness as if festivities had arrived just for their entertainment. Even from where they stood at the forefront of the Unsullied forces, Raina could see the collared slaves serving refreshments and delicacies to the masters. The slaves wore the same collars of those who'd been crucified on the one-hundred and sixty-three mile stretch between the first slave girl to the city itself. The idea of slaves still existing in the known was still a dawning thought in itself.

A riding knight of Mereen is sent forth from the gate of the city, the armor sparkling under the sunlight that shown mercilessly from above. The Merenese warrior rides close enough to shout the terms of the dual that they wish to take place, before ultimately climbing down from his horse to pull cock from under his armor, pissing in the direction of Vaegon with no sense of humility as he screamed obvious slurs.

Even from the distance that they stood, Raina sneers at the sight before looking to Vaegon. He holds an expression of sheer contempt. She guesses the knight said something fairly vulgar considering the gross gesture made, but she remained unaware of the situation as she didn't know the languages spoken in Essoss.

"He calls for you to choose a champion," Missandei translated for Vaegon. The champion spoke in the bastard version of High Valyrian and Old Ghiscari, just comprehensible for Vaegon to understand on his own.

"Then let us send a champion," he smirked. "If these bastards wish for a show, then we will give them one."

Raina assumed Vaegon would choose to go himself, to show Mereen that he was afraid to fight himself. Vaegon was very much a man to get things done on his own. If it were possible, he would choose to suffice as a one man army if he had the option. As she expected, the king grabbed a spear from one of the nearby Unsullied, ready to mount his black stallion that stood ready behind them.

"Your Grace, I highly advise against this," Ser Barristan was the first to object. "We've already risked your life with your part in the infiltration of Yunkai, we should not play with fate again."

Vaegon looked to the older man with annoyance, the wisdom in his objection obvious to the king enough that he fought between his desires and reality. He was torn between using logic and wishing to prove he wasn't scared of fighting with his army.

"He is right, Your Grace," Jorah added. "The Merenese will be the hardest of the slaver cities that we have faced. They have had time to prepare. There will be other opportunities to seek your vengeance."

"Fine," the king muttered in annoyance, not winning this battle. He'd find a way to see the 'wise masters' pay.

"I will go, Your Grace," Grey Worm was the first to speak up. Barristan and Jorah both chimed in their part, suggesting they be his champion.

Vaegon immediately shakes his head. "You are far too important to my to the war effort," the man stated. "It would be foolish."

Daario stepped forward. "It appears I'm your only option then, Your Grace," the sellsword grinned.

'I am disposable to you' is what he really means, Raina thought. Except he'd said it in a far more respectable way. She'd seen the way Vaegon looked at Daario, at how the sellsword acted around Daenerys. There must be some sort of unspoken rivalry, she'd realized fairly quickly upon her arrival. It was no secret that the sellsword found Daenerys beautiful. Any sane person would.

"Indeed, it does appear that way," Vaegon stated as he held the spear in a way that put his weight on it. He looked back out a crossed the area that was between them and the still shouting Merenese soldier. He pointed with his hand that was clasped on the spear. "See to it that it is taken care of. I will be here, waiting."

Bowing slightly, Daario gave a half smirk before making his way to the nearby horse that Barristan had ridden on. He mounted swiftly and was off within a moment, a cloud of billowing dust trailing after him.

As they watched, Raina saw the sellsword pull his curved blade from his side as the horse galloped a crossed the dusty plain. She found herself guessing how Daario would dispatch of the knight the longer she watched. Her anticipation made the execution even greater as she watched him succeed.

Unfortunately, his success came at the cost of the knights horse, whom Daario had swiped his blade cleanly through the animals leg mid gallop. It's massive body came crashing down on the knight as an unholy squeal of agony left it's throat, the Merenese warrior instantly crushed to death. The spectating slave masters and nobles audibly gasped from atop the wall. Raina could almost feel the worry that began to leach off of them as they watched their champion get dispatched as quickly as he was presented.

Daario's work seemed to come far too easily as he returned a top his horse, a triumphant smirk on his lips. His version of cocky was something she didn't appreciate, but somehow the king's version was more than enough to have her heart pounding.

She looked to Vaegon, who managed to hold a pleased look despite the resentment she could tell was boiling below the surface. He cleared his throat, handing the spear he'd been holding to Grey Worm. He stepped forward, drawing in a large breath before beginning to speak into the cavernous area.

The language he spoke seemed eerily similar to that of what the knight was screaming, the Lady Stark drawn to the way the king spoke it. His tongue rolled over the words of his mother tongue, which she assumed had ti be High Valyrian. His voice boomed throughout the cavernous area they stood in, reaching the slave master that perched on the wall. Raina found herself admiring his passion as he screamed in his unfamiliar language. Somewhere within the Unsullied ranks behind them, the sound of catapults caused her to flinch.

Overhead of them, barrels were launched over the city's wall. She'd recalled that Vaegon chose to keep the collars they'd collected from the crucified slave children. This was precisely the reason. As they crashed into the city, the slaves would see the success of the Targaryen's and their liberation scattered among the littler of destroyed barrels.

Once Vaegon was done making his proclamation in High Valyrian, the better, original version of the language, he turned to face them all.

"We shall see if the proof of our success convinced them to begin an uprise on their own," he stated. He looked to Daenerys, who was preening with approval.
"If there is anything you wish to add, sister, please feel free to instill more fear into these bastards."

Daenerys held a grin of utter satisfaction as she went to input her own declaration. Raina could see the bloodlust for justice visible in her eyes, the only malevolent expression she wished to see in anyone's gaze. Justice was to be served to those that chose to enslave others and the Targaryen's would see to it.

Raina prayed to the Old and the New gods that Mereen would fall soon enough. That her message to Robb would reach him about Vaegon's willingness to negotiate. That they could sail for Westeros and begin to mend the Seven Kingdoms of civil war. She had many hopes for the near future, yet she felt restless.

♜

DAENERYS felt every bit of pride that had instilled itself upon her after she declared everything they would do to the so called 'wise masters' of Mereen once they'd taken the city from underneath them. She could hardly fathom how pretentious they must be to think they would avoid, let alone survive what she had planned. She would have exactly one-hundred and sixty-three crucified for the children they'd decided to use as a sign. A sign for a sign, she thought, with their bodies hung up she would make sure that the previous slaver cities would see the extent of what the Targaryen's would do for true justice.

Her excitement stayed with her well into the night, as they waited for slaves to cause an uprising themselves. With the help of Grey Worm and a few Unsullied, they hoped that by morning there would be the stirrings of rebellion that would allow them to enter the city with minimal effort and take it.

"I will see each and everyone of them crucified," Daenerys uttered as she sipped on a glass of wine in her tent, Missandei giving her company. "And as I watch, I will recall the children we found on our way here. They will not be forgotten. And the masters will suffer."

"Your passion does not go unnoticed," Missandei assured the princess while brushing through her loose hair. "It was a beautiful thing to see the way you and your brother showed such dedication to this cause."

Rustling outside the entrance of her tent drew her to see Daario enter, only after receiving clearance from the Unsullied that guarded the entrance. The captain flashed a grin to the princess before dipping his head in courtesy.

"If I may have a word with the princess," Daario kindly asked Missandei.

With a nod of approval, the Naathi woman obediently left them alone in the tent. Daenerys turn to face him, shoving her curtain of silver locks behind her shoulders.

"And what is the occasion for you to be visiting my tent at such an hour?" She hummed. "Do you not have plans that will require a nights well rest for us to take the city in the morning?"

"I come with a bit of information you may wish to know, princess," he slightly frowned.

Daenerys cocked a brow, before nodding her approval for him to continue.

"I'm not sure if it is my place," he began, crossing his arms casually. "But the other night, I happened to be out of my tent to relieve myself. I spotted the king with the Lady Stark. Fairly close, if I may add." He gave her a weak frown. "I do not know the manner of their time together, but as your servant, I thought it best to inform you."

Daenerys' cheeks flared with heat. She felt an anger rise up in her that was vicious and difficult to control, liken to a rabid animal. She wanted to scream, hit something, kick her feet.

Vaegon was free to do as he pleased, she knew, he was the king. Yet, the manner in which the sellsword presented the matter with Raina Stark angered her. Was the sellsword trying to drive a wedge between them? His attraction to her had been blatantly obvious. But he was still playing a dangerous game to paint her brother in a bad light.

Trying her best to not unleash her fury on the captain, she stood, fists clear bed as her heart pounded.

Raina Stark was stunning. Daenerys would admit that even to herself. The young woman was quiet, meek, and a caring and gentle soul from what the princess had been able to decipher since she'd joined their company. Dark hair, warm eyes, an inviting smile.

A northern beauty, just as their brother Rhaegar had supposedly been drawn to. Many of the qualities that Daenerys didn't possess herself. Was Vaegon drawn to the Stark woman for the things that she could not provide him herself? Not only that, but she could provide an heir for him... something Daenerys was positive she wouldn't ever do. Her anger seemed to turn its tide.

"I only bring this information as I am loyal to you," he stated as he realized her anger. The way that he said the last word told her enough. He would and did support Vaegon, but only because of her. She had his true loyalty. Something she would most definitely keep to herself to save the sellsword from losing his head.

"I will draw a line with you, Daario Naharis. The affairs of my brother and I are between him and I only," she set the glass down before focusing her violet eyes on him, the rage building as the longer she contemplated what she was going to do. "Now get out of my way."

Forcing Daario aside, she swiped the flaps of her tent aside and ventured into the evening. Her rage built upon itself with each step she took in the direction of Vaegon's tent. Her vision was there one moment, then not the next. She was seeing red while nearly not noticing the sharp rocks that she stomped over in pursuit of him, barefoot after directly leaving her tent. She wanted to scream a horrible, furious sound and unleash herself on something, anything. She'd never used a sword before, but the desire to wack one into wood or hay or anything until it was broken down was the one thing she wished for.

No matter what Vaegon had to say about the matter or had truly done, she was ready to rain down her fury in him. And the Stark woman as well. Her rage grew even more at the thought of her trying to steal Vaegon away, arriving at a fortuitous moment in their conquest of Slaver's Bay. Daenerys suspected she was trying to weasel her way into being queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Daenerys' rightful title.

She was going to make Raina Stark regret ever journeying a crossed the Narrow Sea. She would release her inner dragon.