( ACT III; the dawn of the dragon. )
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chapter four: justice will not be perverted.

THE rage that had become a part of the king that Vaegon had become was making its appearance as the sun reached its zenith. 

Daenerys watched with a tight lip and furrowed brow as her brother stood rigidly before the gathered audience of freed slaves and Mereen citizens. Unsullied remained in a strong line between them and the raised area where the royal personnel stood, protecting against any uproar that might be caused by the events that were soon to follow.

The orders of Vaegon to leave the rebel imprisoned and awaiting trial had been violated by Mossader, who'd taken it into his hands to have the rebel executed. 

Daenerys had listened that morning as Vaegon was informed of the news. A wine pitcher was soon to meet a stone wall in a spectacle of shattering glass and liquid. Vaegon had screamed something fierce, his rage setting her on edge.

Raina stood at Daenerys' side, the same troubled expression on her features. The execution of the rebel was likely to make the relations with the public worse than they had been before. Further complicating the navigation of the state of unrest Mereen was facing. 

Now, Mossador would answer for his transgressions against Vaegon and his orders. He would pay the ultimate price.

Raina had argued to give Mossador a trial as they were going to give the rebel, to stand firm with the ideals of a peace-leaning justice system, but her stance had been quickly overruled by the stance of making an example of the man by Selmy. Daenerys didn't really know what to do herself, knowing that anyone who double crossed Vaegon was asking for a death sentence. So she relented in simply being present for the execution that was moments from taking place.

"This man defied my direct orders of leaving a captive rebel alive to face trial," Vaegon announced in a booming voice that echoed off of the buildings around them. "I do not take such a defiance lightly. Therefore, he will receive the same trial he allowed for the imprisoned rebel. The individual I saw to receive a fair trial."

A pair of Unsullied dragged the struggling Mossador to stand before the waiting crowd, forcing him to his knees. His chest heaved, anxiety riddling his movements as he looked around wildly. Knowing his impending death was nigh. 

"Allow this to be a warning, freed slave or Great Master, not to pervert the justice system that has been instilled."

"Please!" Mossador pleaded where he sat on his knees in the steadfast grip of the two Unsullied. "Please, Your Grace, have mercy!"

The pair of Unsullied, with a wave from Vaegon, were quick to behead the man mid plea. Blood sprayed and the man's head fell to the ground with a wet thud and Daenerys flinched at the suddenness, but forced herself to remain strong in support of Vaegon's decision, no matter how gruesome.

The crowd erupted into a riot, the line of Unsullied shifting in defensive stances as Vaegon made his way to exit the scene. Daenerys followed after Raina and the others of the king's inner circle, the hissing and enraged outcries of the rioting crowd burning into her back as she fled calmly.

RAINA dreamt of a dragon in a wall. More specifically, the Wall. Of a great beast of ice with teeth sharper than any dagger and wings that were a translucent sheen. The dragon flew erratically, bringing forth a great storm of biting mist and snow behind it. Below, an army followed. The dragon's cry was a bitter shrill of winter and wind and it jerked her from her sleep. 

Forcing herself upright, Raina looked around her apartments with all the grogginess her sleep had left behind, reminding herself that she was not at the Wall facing the fearsome dragon in her dreams. 

It had all not been real, she told herself. She'd never seen the Wall herself, only heard of its description in stories told to she and her siblings as children.

Pulling away the sheet of her bed, Raina got to her feet to make her way to the water basin where she began to wash all of the sweat from her face. Splashing water against her slightly tanned, normally porcelain skin, something in her gut began to churn horribly. Her mouth began to water, the only indicator she needed to know that she was about to vomit.

Immediately, she tipped the basin sideways to allow its contents to splash to the stone floor just before her face was hovering over the bronze and expelling the contents of her stomach. The wrenching lasted a few minutes, the lady crying and gripping the bronze as if her life depended on it. She wretched until nothing was left, only drawing away from the stressful experience once a hand rested against her waist. She didn't whirl to see Vaegon look down to her with visible concern, the energy she had left after the restless dream all but gone.

"What is wrong?" He asked immediately as he began to brush away the loose strands of her dark hair as she wiped her lips with the back of her hand. Horribly disorientated, she reached her other hand forward to steady herself against the king's chest. "Should I fetch a healer?"

She knew the signs. Had always known them. With no mother, the women servants of Winterfell had been the ones to teach her of the changes a girl faces when she becomes a woman, of the changes that occur with the formation of a new life-- 

"No, no," she uttered, her throat raw, mind racing. "I am not ill."

"Then why were you retching into your basin?"

She sighed, taking a moment to gain her bearings and recall everything that had happened recently, by good suspicion. At least a moon had passed since the Son's of the Harpy began their vigilante attacks on the king's soldiers, wrecking havoc on any who support Vaegon. 

Shortly after their first coupling, the attacks had started. The longer she thought on it, she began to realize an entire moon and perhaps a fortnight had passed, yet she had not bled. How many times had she had couplings with Vaegon? By the Old, at least every night he was not with Daenerys, or the three of them together. Their hunger for each other had been seemingly insatiable, Raina forgetting the vowel she and Jon had made to never bring a bastard into the world.

It was apparent she had broken her side of it, if her suspicions were correct.

"Actually, yes, a healer," she uttered after changing her mind. Her throat burned from the vomiting. "A healer would be wise. I think I am with child."

Vaegon was rigid momentarily as he looked down at her. His brow furrowed and he pulled her closer to him, his hand holding hers gently. He looked down at her as if he would find the truth somewhere in her eyes. He was slow to speak as if he were trying to find the words to say. 

"Truly?"

Raina nodded despite still trying to accept it herself. She never suspected she'd be a mother. "I have not bled in a month and a fortnight," she told him. The aching in her gut began to subside.

His expression told her that a million different thoughts were crossing his mind. Rightfully so.

"We will be married soon," he stated, his hand resting softly against Raina's still flat stomach in an intimate gesture. The events of the day prior seemingly nowhere near the forefront of his thoughts anymore. "Our child will not be a bastard. You carry my heir."

"What of Daenerys?" Raina almost retorted. Raina would not have Daenerys cast aside in favor of her just because she carried Vaegon's child, nor would she take her right to be queen as a Targaryen. "She has more of a right as your queen before me."

"I will marry you both in one ceremony," he replied with a solution, one that surprised Raina as he said it. "A Valyrian ceremony of our ancestors. I will take you both to wife. And once I hold the throne, we will have a coronation before all the lords of Westeros so they may not declare blasphemy."

Raina's brow furrowed. "What of the faith? They won't have a marriage between a man and two women. Your ancestor the conqueror had a difficult time as is."

"I've already considered this," he admitted, a slight grin cracking on his lips. "My conclusion is that I will not have the faith come between me and the women I love.. I will answer with fire and blood if I must."

Lowering himself to his knees in front of Raina, her gaze following him, he gently pressed his forehead while his hands remained on her waste. 

She looked down at the man she'd crossed the Narrow Sea for as an emissary for her brother, the man she'd grown to love through so many strange sequence of events. A part of her couldn't believe where she was now, carrying the heir to a Targaryen king. A man and a family she'd heard stories of growing up. 

Yet here she was, in his favor, in his bed, risen to a station of authority she'd never thought possible for a born bastard. She was to be a queen.

If only the girl that had wished goodbye to her brother at the crossroads outside of Winterfell knew what she'd turn into. The woman she now was. She promised herself she'd make it to the 

"Our child will be my heir and will marry one of the children that Daenerys will produce," he murmured where he still kneeled before her. As if worshipping her belly that held his child. "Together, they will rule the Seven Kingdoms and help the Targaryen dynasty flourish as it did in the days of our ancestors." His voice was full of hope. "Should the dragons produce eggs, we will bring back the age of dragon riders."

The thought of her unborn child one day sitting on the Iron Throne, wearing a crown with the lords of their country bowing before them was a pleasing thought. Her child, a dragon rider as she would be soon enough. 

She, a bastard-turned-lady-turned-queen, would be the mother of a monarch. 

"Our child," Raina cooed, the words feeling ever so right rolling off her tongue. "We are having a child."

Vaegon looked up with a grin. He rose to his feet, where he stood towering over her. "Our child indeed." He leaned down to rest his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling there. "I swear to you I will not be my father. And if I even begin to think I am on that path, I will do you and the Seven Kingdoms the favor of my quick death."

Raina's brows furrowed, angry at the insinuation he'd ever be the man that had fathered him. "By the Old, I know you will never be your father. You are too kind, to wise and honorable. You are exactly what Westeros needs. And you will see to a fruitful and prosperous reign."

Her words must have sung to his heart as she began to lean in. They met in a kiss, ever so gentle. Vaegon held her as if his life depended on it.

"I love you," he murmured. 

She grinned at his words, her heart full. 

"I will love you beyond my dying breath."

Note:

Short chapter, more of a filler. Sorry!