( ACT I; sleeping dragon. )
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chapter 11: the waste.

THE Red Waste was no place for a diminished Dothraki Khalasar that had once stood as a formidable force against its rivals. The grass sea had been no real trouble compared to the Red Waste and endless miles of sand and rock and those in the company of the Targaryen's soon learned so. If they tried returning to the grass sea, they would find themselves in far worse conditions than a desert, even if they were starving and thirsty. Vaegon knows this, but he sees no other option in leading the retinue unless they wish to find themselves butchered by a far stronger and larger Khalasar.

If they had counted correctly, a sennight had passed since the funeral of Khal Drogo. With barely enough Dothraki to be considered a Khalasar, they were forced to venture into the desert where no opposing Khal would go.

Among the ragged Dothraki that had chosen to stay under the command of Vaegon and Daenerys, three wonders accompanied them all on the long and treacherous trek: Drokar, Haelyx, and Rhaellor. Drokar, which had been claimed by Daenerys and named after her late husband was of charcoal and crimson while Haelyx was a beast of gold and green. The one claimed by Vaegon, a hatchling of pearlescent scales and pale azure, was named Rhaellor after their beloved mother, Rhaella. Being of the utmost importance, the hatchlings were fed before anyone, even Vaegon and Daenerys.

Despite hatching their dragons together and gaining the undying loyalty of those who had decided to stay behind, Vaegon and Daenerys still held a resentment towards each other amid all their other pressing issues. Daenerys is angered over Vaegon's plan to leave the Khalasar for the Free Cities while he still held his anger toward her for everything else.

Along with their enduring resentment, Vaegon knows he doesn't have the same sway that Daenerys does over the Dothraki, for they are her people, but he knows they've gained some reverence towards him since the dragons hatched. Either way, he is concerned of what may come to pass and whether things may grow worse with his sister.

"This desert must be endless," Vaegon uttered as he wiped away grimy sweat from his forehead. He looked at his hand in disgust before wiping it off on his ragged horse-hide pants. "If we don't find water soon, we'll find ourselves no better than we were before we entered this waste."

"If we had stayed where we were, we would have already been butchered," Ser Jorah responded. His breath is labored.

Unfortunately, most of their horses had either been taken by those who fled or had died, leaving merely a handful to carry supplies along with Daenerys' white mare.

"Starvation and thirst might have been a better fate," Vaegon muttered. "I fear for the dragons."

"We will ensure that they are fed," Jorah assured him. "Whatever meat we acquire will go to them first, if you will, You Grace."

"Yes," Vaegon agreed. "They're fed first. Then we'll divide it up amongst us all."

"Even while we search for food," Jorah pointed out. "We must be careful. We're surrounded on all sides by powerful enemies who would gladly kill us and take the dragons."

"No one will touch them," Vaegon is quick to vow. "I'll fight until I'm the last man standing. They're the only dragons in the world and they are ours. We hatched them and no other man has a right to touch them."

Vaegon envisions a time in the future when all three of their dragons are full grown, monstrous beasts with shadows that could cover entire towns and flames that could turn castles to ash. He thinks of the fear that will shake the Westerosi lords to their cores and how easily they would bend the knee. He sees it somewhere far in the future and takes faith knowing it will come one day. Among the pressing issues they are currently facing, he keeps faith that they will conquer one day.

Where the two walk alongside one another, Jorah looks back to see Daenerys walking alongside her white mare, a grim expression apparent on her features as her eyes are trained to the ground. The older man frowns to himself before looking back to Vaegon.

"Have you spoken to her much?" Jorah asked Vaegon. "About anything?"

"No," Vaegon answers. "I'm afraid not. We've assumed another spell of silence between us again. I'm not sure if she's still grieving over Drogo, or if she simply despises me over our plan to leave," he purses his lips. "Whichever it is, we face this constant back and forth. First she is pleasant toward me and I toward her and all is well. Then something happens and we end up like this. It's tiring."

"It's a constant push and pull, hm?" Jorah frowns. "I can assure you, Your Grace, once we have found ourselves in a better situation, things will mend between you."

"I hope so," Vaegon muttered. He looked back toward Daenerys himself, seeing how gloomy she appeared. "Otherwise, I fear I might be competing against her. Not only in our endeavors to come, but for the throne."

♜

HOURS of their trek pass before the retinue is forced to halt. The dying cry of a horse has all of their attention yanked toward Daenerys' white mare, which has collapsed to the sand in exhaustion. She is quick to come to her horses comfort, caressing it's cheek while she knows it's death is imminent. She feels salty tears begin to stream down her dirty dry cheeks as she watched the life drain from the animals eyes. Her heart drops, knowing it was the last bit of Drogo she had left. She had nothing now.

A hand rests gently on her back. She turns to see Vaegon looking down on her, Jorah close by, before she looks back to her dead horse. She begins losing hope even more.

"This is good meat," Daenerys uttered as she wiped away her tears and forced herself to her feet. She knew that her horse could be used to keep them all alive even though the thought of eating her beloved mount was painful to process. "Have her butchered."

Ser Jorah obeys and begins ordering the Dothraki to prepare the horse. Daenerys calls over three riders, who all come at her command. She speaks to them for a moment, pointing in different directions. Vaegon watches as they all turn to the few remaining horses and mount, soon to disappear into the mirage of heat.

"Where are they going?" Vaegon asked her. Things were no better than they had been before, so communication between the two was still very much formal.

"They're scouting for sustenance and refuge," she tells him. "We can't go on like this. If we want to escape this, we have to search for help."

"That's wise," he praises her. "For now, I suggest we build a fire. Send a few of them out to gather wood and anything else they could find."

Daenerys nods in agreement. "I'll send them off."

As the evening drags on and the sun has began to wane, the Dothraki managed to find enough wood to create a small fire. Daenerys' mare has been butchered, enough meat to feed everyone in attendance. It was a small relief from the troubles they'd all been facing. Most of the Dothraki were resting by now, Jorah off on his own business and Daenerys most likely seeking solitude.

Vaegon had retrieved Rhaellor from the woven cage they had crafted shortly after the hatching and brought him near the fire. As the small dragon roosts on Vaegon's arm, the light from the fire glinted off of the hatchlings scales. Vaegon offers a piece of the horse meat and pearlescent hatchling cocks it's head to the side, looking at the morsel as if it is something foreign.

"Come on now," He uttered to himself. He thinks of how he can get Rhaellor to eat, until an idea appears and he finds a stick nearby. Setting the hatchling on the ground, he spears the meat and sticks it in the fire. Once the meat has turned a deep brown, he pulls it out to offer to the hatchling once more.

Rhaellor cocks his head once more, seeming more susceptible to the condition of the meat now that it was cooked. The little dragon hungrily snatched the morsel with high pitched growl before downing it in nearly an entire gulp.

Vaegon grins in success as his dragon spreads his small wings in a stretch, the light of the fire shining through the blue leathery flaps. Vaegon reaches forward to retrieve Rhaellor in his hands.

"It's a small victory, but a victory all the same," he says to the animal.

♜

NOT far from the camp fire, Daenerys and Jorah sit together in silence. The knight watches as she holds her dragon Drokar, with the third hatchling, Haelyx, present as well. The knight still finds himself wondering if their new existence is all but an illusion, but he knows what he saw. Seeing Daenerys and Vaegon emerge from the ashes was a site to behold. His eyes drift toward Daenerys, seeing how grim she appeared. He could only imagine, considering she'd lost her husband and almost all the people she'd accepted as her own.

"You are strong, Khaleesi," Jorah tells her as he watches her attend to her dragons. She feeds them cooked meat after Vaegon had discovered the secret just a little bit ago.

"I like to believe I am," she tells him as Drokar takes a morsels from her fingers.

"You are," he assures her. "Despite all that has come to pass, you have remained as a queen should."

"Only I am not a true queen," she tells him. "I'm but a Khaleesi of a weak and a diminished Khalasar."

"You are a Targaryen," Jorah said.

"But I am not the first in line to the throne," she reminded him. "Vaegon is. He is the rightful heir to the iron throne."

"But he will need a queen," Jorah tells her, despite his resentment toward the love the siblings held for each other. He knew his own love for Daenerys was wrong and nothing would ever come from it, but it didn't change the way he felt toward her. He would always love her.

Daenerys looks to him with a shocked expression. She turns her attention back to the dragons.

"Yes, I know, Khaleesi," Jorah admits. "I know about you and Vaegon. I have known for quite some time."

"I don't know what you are talking about," she is quick to fall into denial.

"He's told me himself. He's told me everything. I do not condemn it, Khaleesi. I only suggest that if you love him, truly, do not play with his heart."

Daenerys purses her lips as if she is frustrated. "Even if we wanted to be together, it would be wise for him to take a woman from one of the great houses once we conquer Westeros. I would be of no use to him. I cannot bear children. These are the only children I'll ever have."

Jorah looks down at the dragons, who indeed look up at Daenerys as if she is their mother. Jorah knew that the magic that took her son away from her was a dark, but it had never quite occurred to him that she may never bare children again at the expense of it.

"And a king needs an heir," she continues to tell him. "So he would do better finding a woman better fit for the role of queen."

The knight sympathizes for her, but knows she is right. He only hopes that things may change between them between then and the time that they finally take King's Landing. He can hope, but his hopes are not high.

"When the time comes, the topic of this all will be discussed," he tells her. "Don't fret, Khaleesi."

"I try, Ser Jorah," she utters softly in defeat. "But I am nothing without my Khalasar. It doesn't exist anymore except for the few that remained. They are mostly old and sick. I have no throne I can claim like Vaegon, nor a husband or children anymore. I have my dragons, and that is it."

"You are strong and capable woman," Jorah assures her. "You can do anything, Khaleesi. Do not let this desert take away your spirit. You are a Targaryen, a dragon."

Daenerys looked up to him as she brought Drokar and Haelyx into her embrace.

She smirked weakly. "I suppose all I can do with that is be one, then."