( ACT II; the age of the dragon. )
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chapter 14: the rage of a dragon.

VAEGON let out a hearty, aching chuckle while enjoying the small talk he was having with Raina Stark, the woman just enlightening him about a childhood memory that had been far more humorous than he'd expected. They both had begun to dine together in his tent after his efforts to console her when she was vulnerable, which progressively brought them to become more and more acquainted upon each interaction. He found himself enjoying her company, her presence offering a calm he'd otherwise not seen in quite sometime.

They sat a crossed from one another at a small table in his tent, the lady and the king had found much pleasure in their conversation together. She focused her entire attention on him when he spoke, her eyes portraying her genuine interest in what he had to say.

"You most definitely had a unique childhood," Vaegon grinned as he set down his cup of wine he'd just taken a sip from. "But considering my past, I think I may have you beat."

Raina gave him a playful smirk. "That is fair, Your Grace, considering you've lived in Essoss for most of your childhood."

Vaegon chuckled. "As a refugee, you mean."

Her smirked turned to a slight frown. "Do you remember your home?"

He recalled his true home, which had been Dragonstone. It's salt tainted air and the sound of waves crashing into the dark stone. King's Landing's only positive recollection he held was anytime he was able to see Rhaegar anytime he wasn't at their ancestral seat.

"I do, for the most part. I was very young when we fled, but I was able to hold onto some memories," he replied. "I miss my mother most of all. She is the one I named Rhaellor after."

Raina cocked a brow. "As in the Lord of Light? R'hllor?"

Vaegon cocked his own brow. "No, my mothers name was Rhaella. . ." The connection began to make more sense. He hadn't realized his dragon was named after a deity. The coincidence was strange to him.

"I think that is beautiful," Raina went on in reference to his choice of names. "After your mother. I wish I had been able to meet mine."

She was so gentle, so meek and soft with her words. The utter opposite of Daenerys.

The reality that he was beginning to grow feelings toward her was unsettling to say the least. After being so confident that Daenerys would be the only woman he would ever find himself feeling such ways about, he began to question himself and his loyalty. He couldn't imagine what his sister would think if she knew his thoughts, let alone what she might do. Yet anytime he recalled his family tree, he tried to give himself excuses. Aegon the Conqueror had two wives . . . 

Immediately he shoved the thought away again for who knows how many times it'd been that day. Daenerys was not the type to share and Vaegon couldn't imagine what the Stark woman might think about such a dynamic of two wives and a husband. The fact he was even considering wedding Raina so soon after they'd become acquainted caused him to feel guilty. Yet other lords had married women for lesser reasons than to carry on their bloodline. He tried his best to convince himself he was doing no harm.

As if his worries about Daenerys and the ever looming threat of needing to carry on the Targaryen line had been spoken into reality, his sister shoved her way into Vaegon's tent with a rage he immediately felt worried about. The presence of Daario following her close behind didn't bother him nearly as much as it had in the past once he saw the rage in her violet eyes, something he'd seen only a few times in his life. Her expression was mixed between disgust and her inability to hide the fact that she was a few words from crying and screaming. In an effort to prevent any violence, he stood to place himself between Raina and the seething Daenerys.

"It appears it's true then," she stated furiously through her teeth, likely noting his efforts to protect the Stark woman from her rage. "Not only have you taken the opportunity to find yourself an ally once another piece in your game for the throne has thrown itself before you," her voice was shaky as she spoke, eyes narrowing on behind him. "But you've decided to replace me with them."

Daenerys had done many questionable things in the past due to her almost animalistic rage that he more often expressed than her; harming the Stark woman was not going to be an exception from the wrath they were plagued by. Dragon Spawn, as he had been coined while fighting in the alleys of Pentos without its citizens knowing his true lineage. He stood ready, facing her to block the direct line to Raina.

"I truly do not know what you speak of," he uttered, even though he cursed himself in his mind for the exact reasons he'd been worried before she'd forced her way in.

"Truly do not know what, Vae?" Daenerys uttered, her nose crinkling and her brow furrowing into a fury that could only be liken to that of a true dragon. "That you were seen with Raina in moonlight in an embrace?" She clenched her fists into such tight balls that her knuckles began to turn white. "Even an idiot would be able to see the passion shared between you."

Vaegon took the chance to look behind him to check on Raina during such a confrontation. To no surprise, the woman held a ghostly pale expression, eyes wide and lips pulled to a taut line. He felt a twinge of guilt, knowing the violence likely brought up traumatic memories for her similar to the ones she'd expressed to him the other night.

"The Lady Stark and I were not engaging in intimacies," he growled once he'd looked back to his sister. His brow set into a hard line. "I was consoling her. There is nothing else to your poor accusations."

"What a damned liar you are, Vaegon," she hissed. His anger flared at her accusation. "He informed me himself of your actions!"

Daenerys' admittance to Daario's part didn't quite stick with him before he spoke.

"If I recall correctly, you were the one to send your handmaiden into my tent to 'stave my desires' while you catered to your horse-lord husband," he growled. Immediately, he saw the hurt in her eyes. It was quickly assumed by her previous rage.

"You bastard—!" She snarled, whirling to the right.
Daenerys' rage snapped once she grabbed the small brazier blazing to her side, at which she lobbed with all of her weight directly at Vaegon without a second thought. The king made an effort to shield himself, to prevent the flames from causing any harm to him, but his efforts were to no avail.

Daenerys had been the one to cast protection upon Vaegon when he'd chased after her into the flames of her dead husbands funeral pyre. The magic that had brought their dragons to life. Blood magic, which had been said to spring the Doom of Valyria.

Therefore, the scorching metal and flames that hit his hands, forearms, and chest immediately seared into his flesh. The pain was beyond agonizing

Though Vaegon's skin seared with a sensation more painful than anything he'd ever felt, his own rage fell into effect once he'd managed to pushed away the brazier and Daario caught his eye once more. The bastard was the reason Daenerys was so angry, spouting a misconstrued situation to convince her Vaegon was doing her wrong.

"You told her these things," Vaegon snarled as he turned and began to pursue Daario, the realization of what Daenerys had said hitting him. The captain had made an effort to turn her against him. To steal her away.

Snatching the brazier from the ground where it had landed, he ignored the agony that coursed through his arm as he lifted it high, muscles burning in protest to the solid metal he was about to swing. The sellsword was try and defend himself, pulling the dagger with a naked woman as it's pommel from his side.

Vaegon swiped the metal at the man while his hand emitted the smell of roasting flesh, which had already begun to permeate throughout the tent. He didn't notice, as his rage had gone into full effect. He was pursuing the kill.

Daario didn't say a thing in his own defense as he fought back against Vaegon, the blade managing to land a clean slice to the kings abdomen. Once the captain realized it did no good in stopping him, he avoided Vaegon's next swing and slashed another wound into the opposite side of his abdomen.

With the misfortune of not dodging fast enough, Vaegon crushed the brazier into Daario head with a sickening, wet crunch, his skull caved in in a way that was entirely unnatural. Both Daenerys and Raina screamed in horror as the sellsword's limp body began to crumble before it dropped unceremoniously to the floor. A quickly moving puddle of blood had already begun to pool into the reed mats that served as Vaegon's flooring.

After a few moments of looking down at his kill and controlling his ragged breath, Vaegon dropped the brazier to the floor where embers and remnants of charcoal scattered. The king turned his hands upward to view the singed flesh of his palms, which were dangerously raw and pulsing with blood. Since his rage still filled every fiber of him, he didn't notice the blossoming blood stains on his cotton shirt until Daenerys caught his attention.

"Vaegon," Daenerys said breathlessly, eyes wide in shock. She was aware of what she'd done, of what her anger had caused. She rushed forward in immediate concern as if the brutal situation that just occurred no longer mattered. "You you need a healer. Now. NOW."

Grabbing a hold of his wrists as to not touch the raw flesh, she guided him around Daario's bloodied head and began to rush him out of the tent.

Raina remained frozen where she was, sitting at the table where she and the king had just previously been carrying on and dining. Her dark eyes remained wide, brow furrowed as she tried to process what had just happened. She didn't dare look to the body on the floor.

♜

HER breath hitched in her throat, her hand covering her mouth as she was over taken by incapacitating emotion. Her eyes welled with hot tears, her throat feeling as if she were choking. Her entire mission for seeking out the Targaryen's was for naught now, as there was no reason to call upon their help. Robb was dead. Slaughtered. As was his new wife, Talisa, the babe in her belly stabbed with her. Many if not most of the northern lords that had backed her brother in his efforts to defend their freedom and enact justice were slain as well.

She couldn't help but feel as if the gods were punishing her. She'd just witnessed Vaegon kill Daario in such a horrible, for him to find himself wounded and under the care of healers. Now, she had to process the fact that her family was dead. The events of the night were almost too much for her to even acknowledge.

From what the message described that had taken weeks to arrive from a crossed the Narrow Sea to Essos, the Frey's were responsible for their deaths. A marriage between meant for an alliance, she read, was used to coax her family into a false sense of security to feast and celebrate a Tully and a Frey joining in matrimony.

The realization that the small tent she'd been given as an honored guest and the city of Mereen would become more permanent than she realized felt paralyzing. She hadn't planned to stay but another sennight if they managed to take the city easily. Excitement had filled her to return home with aid before an Unsullied had come to her tent to offer the small parchment that would crush her.

Through her tears, she gazed around the candle lit tent, it alone so foreign to her Westerosi self as many things had been since she'd journeyed to Essoss. She felt so horribly alone as she dropped the letter to her side, the only sound of the night being the hum of the torches and the scuff on the floor after the descent of the letter. Wrapping her arms around herself in a self embrace, she tried to maintain herself. Grief was brutal with such news, particularly with her being a crossed the Narrow Sea on a foreign continent she felt she didn't belong on.

Her first instinct was the desire to be with Jon. To embrace him. Once again breath in his scent of polished leather and smoke. Feel his familiar grip that she'd ran to countless times when she'd found herself crying at the hands of Catelyn Stark.

The realization that she was dead as well hurt Raina more than she expected. In a way, she'd always wanted Catelyn to embrace her as a daughter despite the way she'd treat the twins, giving her the mother she'd always craved to have. But the Riverlands woman had resented Raina and Jon worse than the biting cold of the north or the summer snows it brought with it. Part of her wanted to feel justified and good that the woman who hated her was dead.

Yet, she felt hollow. Another piece of the reality she'd known washed away with the words of a too late letter. She tried to let the sobs out in the best way she could. She didn't want to let them carry outside of the thin walls of her tent to any passerby's. 

The Lady Stark chose to hold herself in the silence, alone to face the devastating grief that changed her life from this point on.