( ACT I; sleeping dragon )
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chapter 7: the vow to cross the poison sea.

IN the time that passed since Viserys' death, tensions seemed to wane. Despite the original reason for Daenerys and Vaegon to be distant, things seemed to slowly but steadily turn toward a path of redemption. While Daenerys tried speaking to her husband about bringing the Dothraki over the Narrow Sea, albeit all for Vaegon, she found no success. She tried seducing him, bargaining with him, even resorting to gentle begging. It does not budge her stubborn husband an inch.

While Daenerys had tried her best to win back her only surviving brother, Vaegon began training with Jorah on not only one-to-one combat, but the intellectual and literal knowledge that a king should know. Knowing that it was he was the next in line to receive the throne, he decided he would not be as weak and ineffectual as his brother had been. With the golden opportunity at hand, Vaegon refused to allow it slip through his hands.

All while the last remaining Targaryen's carried on in their lived without their cruel brother, things began to crawl to a stop. The Khalasar was staying in Vaes Dothrak for a while it seemed, so finding things to do grew harder and harder. Yet, Vaegon found no care in being bored, for Viserys was dead and his reign of terror was over. Vaegon has no regrets seeing his brother dead and gone, or how he so cruelly died. He thought that if Drogo hadn't done it, he eventually would have.

On one partially slow and gruelingly hot day, Ser Jorah suggested that Vaegon venture to the market, to 'further develop his social skills among diverse people', as the knight had put it. He had told Vaegon it was important to be able to tolerate anyone he encountered, even those whom he might dislike.

Reluctantly, Vaegon followed through with the knight's suggestion. They arrived at the market at early afternoon, meandering along the street among the people. Vaegon was surprised to find such diversity among Vaes Dothrak, a city he'd formally believed to be full of nothing but the nomadic savages. He spots many different types of people selling goods. A Tyroshi merchant with a dyed lime green beard full of beads spoke in bastardized Valyrian while a Pentosi man bargained with people over his assortment of trinkets and jewels. The diversity went on and on.

Different smells filled the air and the beat of a drum was audible somewhere in the distance. Pleased to be entertained, Vaegon was thankful Jorah had suggested the visit.

"Is this what King's Landing is like?" Vaegon asked as they walked.

"In a way, yes," Ser Jorah replied. "You'll find merchants from Essos in the city, trying to sell their wears to both gullible nobles and easily fascinated commoners. There are also the normal residents of the capital trying to make a living. But you won't find such diversity among the people and things as you would in Essos."

"Is it as dirty as they say?" Vaegon wondered. "Even from what I remember living there, it only consists of certain places in the Red Keep."

"In some places, most definitely," Jorah told him. "Flea Bottom is as run down as the name might put it, full of poverty, sickness, and hunger. Unfortunately, the orphanages run rampant there. Most don't stay running or at least struggle to."

Vaegon frowns at the thought. How could someone with enough power and money not want to help those in need? He can think of all the things he'd be pleased to do once he had the throne.

"When I sit on the throne, I'd like to see such things change. At least ease the suffering of those in Flea Bottom," The king declares.

"That is why you will become a righteous king," Jorah replies in support. "If your brother had truly made it to Westeros, it may have only found destruction."

"Most definitely," Vaegon agreed. "It would have . . ."

His words drop from his lips once he spots Daenerys in the near distance, she gazing around at the many booths while her handmaidens and a couple of Drogo's men stood guard. Even though he was still resentful of her, he couldn't help but feel pleased to see her excited expression.

Jorah must have spotted her as well, for he said, "Perhaps it's time to speak to her."

"No," Vaegon vehemently disagreed. "We should go."

"Your Grace," Jorah pressed. "It has been sometime now since your brother has been gone. Perhaps with his absence, you two might find some peace."

Even though Vaegon had felt the urge to reconcile with her, especially with Viserys gone and his anger have waned since his death, he still felt a twinge of resistance.

"If I speak to her, it might give a false sense of hope," he muttered. "She may think that things are fine now."

"If you wish to have her at all," Jorah reasoned. "You have to take a step."

Knowing that he still felt the resentment, he reluctantly agreed.

"I suppose," he muttered, being the first to make his way toward Daenerys and her group.

As he wandered up, she turned at his presence. Her expression lit up at the sight of him, a smile plastering itself on her lips.

"Vaegon," she stated pleasantly. "What brings you to the market?"

"Ser Jorah suggested we visit it today," he replied the best he could. He gestured toward the items in the arms of her handmaidens, most likely things she'd decided to purchase. "It seems you are enjoying yourself."

"I am," she agreed with an optimistic smile. "Come, will you walk with me?"

The group assumed a leisurely walk once more, Vaegon and Daenerys at the front. He was slightly startled when her arm slipped into his in the way they used to always walk together.

"Wouldn't your husband be displeased by you holding onto me?" He muttered to her.

"No, not in the slightest," she told him. "He admires you, you know. He told me you are everything that Viserys wasn't, that you'd be a far better ruler."

Vaegon scoffed. "I'm sure he did. If he admires me so much, did he kill Viserys for me?"

Daenerys is quiet for a moment until she finds the words to reply. "We haven't discussed his death," she murmurs. "He didn't tell me he was going to do it, nor did I stop him. I like to believe we're at a silent agreement?"

"Viserys' death is the only thing I could thank Drogo for," Vaegon stated. "Beyond that, there is more I could hate him for." His eyes drifted to her belly. "Plenty I could resent him for."

"Have you forgiven me then?" Daenerys asked hopefully. "You are talking to me now. You've been silent to me for less. Are better now?"

Vaegon sighed heavily. "I may be talking civilly with you now, but it does not mean I have blindly forgotten all that has happened. What you did was wrong, Daenerys, and you need to accept that. Once you have, I may consider forgiving you. But for now, things are merely civil."

Daenerys doesn't say anything for a few moments, seeming to focus on her feet as they walked.

"I understand," she murmurs. "I will accept what I did. It was wrong. In time, I hope to gain your forgiveness."

"Khaleesi!" A voice calls out from nearby.

Their heads turn to the left, to a man at a booth selling casks of wine. Vaegon and Daenerys pause, looking to him.

"Khaleesi! How wonderful it is to have you here!" The overly enthusiastic merchant chirped. "Can I offer you a taste of the finest wine imported to Vaes Dothrak? Crafted in Dorne, it's a sweet, smooth delicacy." The man looks to Vaegon. "And you, are you the Khaleesi's kin? May I offer you a taste as well?"

Vaegon and Daenerys look to one another before they finally agree. He is strangely suspicious of the way that the man hurriedly goes to pour the wine into clay cups for them, erratically rushing over to place them in their hands. Vaegon swirls the wine around in the cup, the crimson liquid indeed smooth. He lifts it to his nose, where he draws in a sweet scent. What made Vaegon stop was the smell that lingered afterwards. He drew in another sniff, smelling it again.

He quickly reached over to stop Daenerys from take a drink, just in time for she was about to bring it to her lips.

"Why don't you join us in a toast," Vaegon suggests to the merchant. "To the health of the Khaleesi's growing child."

The merchant twitches in a strange way, his eyes darting around.

"Oh, no, M'lord, a lowly merchant like me cannot be humbled to taste the drink of royalty," the merchant kindly refused.

Vaegon'a expression hardened. "I said join us in a toast."

The merchant hesitated for a moment before reluctantly taking a cup and pouring a minimal amount of the wine. He hesitates for a moment before lifting the cup up.

"To the Khaleesi," Vaegon stated. He brings the cup near his lips, but does not drink. He watched as the man does not drink either.

"It's poisoned," Ser Jorah suddenly announces.

It sends the merchant turned assassin barreling toward his escape, throwing casks to the ground to prevent them from catching him. The man isn't quick enough, for Vaegon has thrown the clay cup to the ground to shatter before he lunges forward to tackle the assassin to the ground. He pins the mans arm behind his back while shoving his face to the dirt.

Daenerys has her guards restrain the man for Vaegon and once they have taken over, he rises to his feet. His heart pounds in his chest as he turns to her.

"You saved our lives," she uttered, rushing forward to embrace him. He is rigid for a moment, until he allows himself to accept her.

♜

IT seemed as if Vaegon and Daenerys were never short of an unpleasant encounter, for it was soon discovered that the assassination attempt had been orchestrated by Robert Baratheon. The Targaryen's has assumed they had been safe from such ordeals, but it seemed news of Viserys' death and Daenerys' upending child had reached Westeros, and the malicious king that still ruled it must have seen them as vulnerable.

In Daenerys' tent, she, Vaegon, and Ser Jorah discussed the ordeal that had occurred just recently. After the event, they had promptly returned to the camp.

"Robert Baratheon will never cease his effort and trying to kill you both, or any children you may produce," Jorah warned them as they began to debrief what had occurred.

"He's made attempts all throughout our lives," Vaegon muttered. "Even as children we were hunted."

"He must have heard news of Viserys' death," Daenerys presumed. "Perhaps he thought we were beginning to drop like flies, so he could finish us off while we were weak."

"He heard of your child," Jorah speculates. "He must have feared of his claim being compromised. Another Targaryen means more trouble for him."

"But if I'm the heir to the throne, why would he want to attack us on the news that Daenerys is with child?" Vaegon asked. "She wouldn't be a threat. He would need to go after me if he wanted to ensure his throne was safe."

"An heir is an heir," Jorah states solemn. "Male or female. Any Targaryen is a threat to him."

"Once I have an army," Vaegon swears angrily . "I'll see to it he is dealt with the same way he killed Rhaegar. I'll see to it that his heirs perish the way Aegon and Rhaenys did."

"Killing children is not a kingly decision, Your Grace," Ser Jorah warns. "I know you want to avenge your house, but innocence should not suffer."

"If only Robert Baratheon believed that," Vaegon scoffed.

"Drogo won't let anything happen to us," Daenerys swore. "His Khalasar is fifty-thousand strong. No one could touch us if he commanded it."

"Gods save anyone who looks at you wrong," Jorah remarked. "After he learns of what has happened, he will wreck havoc."

As if his words were to summon Drogo, the towering Khal shoves his way into Daenerys' tent. He made his way over to her, pulling her close and speaking in his rough language, most likely ensuring she was safe. Vaegon had to look away.

Drogo looks to Jorah and Vaegon, speaking time then both directly. Jorah translates.

"He offers any horse of our choosing for foiling the assassination attempt," the knight repeats the Khal's words.

Drogo rises, declaring something extensive and powerful to Daenerys in Dothraki.

"He says he will cross the poison sea to reclaim the Iron Throne, as no Khal has before," Jorah translates. "Your Grace, perhaps the Dothraki will aid you."

With an army seemingly at his finger tips, he feels as if things are finally rolling into motion. For the first time, Vaegon is thankful for the Dothraki.