( ACT III; the dawn of the dragon. )
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chapter seven: funeral pyre and dragon fire.

QUEEN Raina thought there would be no better way for Selmy to be sent off from the living world than by dragonfire under the blush colors of sunrise. Therefore, she had his body brought to the prairie outside Mereen for a funeral, a pyre constructed by a platoon of Unsullied that now stood at a silent vigil for the fallen knight.

The woman watched as the emerald dragon stepped up to the pyre, nostrils flaring as Haelyx drew in the scent of the dead knight. She covered over his body almost protectively, as if she knew of his noble deeds and the honor they afforded him.

Raina still couldn't believe the emerald beast before her was hers to claim, all at the support and recommendation of Vaegon. They hadn't flown together, sealing the bond, but somewhere inside Raina felt the tug of some destiny toward the dragon, a calling to mount and soar through the clouds. As if they were fated for each other long ago.

A bastard born northerner, soon to be a dragon-riding queen.

Vaegon hadn't argued when she'd requested that Selmy be brought to the prairie to be burned that morning. The king had been hesitant to permit she and Daenerys to leave the safety of the pyramid, understandably, after the attack that had taken the knights life. Thankfully, her husband knew Selmy deserved no less than this.

"Remember the words," Daenerys gently murmured at Raina's side.

The Valyrian they'd been practicing everyday for weeks now. It only befit a queen of the Targaryen dynasty to know the language of her husband's heritage. The language of the dragons. The babe in belly would one day speak the same words, a small reassurance that comforted her in that moment.

Raina sighed heavily. Flattening the tresses of her grey-blue dress against herself, she stepped forward toward the pyre. Vaegon and Daenerys remained quiet behind her, watching with empathetic gazes.

Stopping at the side of the pyre opposite of the waiting dragon, Raina looked down on Selmy with sorrow. He'd been  dressed in a formal doublet of stone grey, a small version of the Targaryen sigil embroidered on the breast over his heart. The wounds thankfully weren't visible, hidden beneath the funeral attire. He truly appeared to be sleeping, she thought, albeit the greying tint of his skin betrayed the truth.

"Loyal until the end," she murmured as her hand gripped his, the cold skin a Stark comparison to the warm breeze wafting past.

How many had she lost to the clutches of death? To the tribulations of life? Her time in King's Landing had hardened her, turned her from girl to woman. Selmy had been there through it all, defending her where he could. Syeadfast in his vowed loyalty to preserve the innocent child she was arriving to a den of lions and all manner of suffering. The tears began to flow as she squeezed his hand one last time before letting go.

"Goodbye, Ser Barristan," she murmured to herself and the still body before her.

Twenty paces in retreat from the pyre and back at Vaegon and Daenerys's sides had Raina standing a safe distance away. Haelyx chirped as the woman looked to her, the she-dragon intuirive and seemingly ready for instruction.

Recalling the words Daenerys had taught her, Raina cleared her throat and lifted her chin. And gathered what remained of her strength to utter the words.

"Haelyx," she called loudly. Her voice felt unstable, prone to breaking. The dragon waited paitently for a command, golden eyed seemingly searing into her soul. "Dracarys."

Flames began building in the throat of the dragon, the green scales of her neck turning bronze with the anticipation of dragonfire.

Suddently, impossibly bright light erupted, making Raina wince as heat flushed against her exposed skin as the pyre was engulfed. Her eyes burned from the heat, the tension of the tears indistinguishable from her grief or the effects of dragonfire.

Once the flames no longer erupted from the dragons maw, Raina wept.

She stood there amidst the silence and the sound of crackling fire, clutching her belly and curling in on herself. She wasn't sure how long she stood there before a strong body enveloped her, pulling her close. She turned and forced her face against a chest.

Vaegon's hand smoothed down her hair on her head as she clung to him, her frame racked with emotion.

"It feels as if I've lost my father two times over now," she mumbled against his doublet. "I cannot bear this."

"We will never be free of misfortune, my love," Vaegon murmured as he continually worked to soothe her. "All that we can do is rely on each other for strength. Selmy was an honorable man. We will ensure his death was not in vain."

Knowing it was Daenerys, Raina felt a hand rest on her back as she continued to be held by Vaegon.

"We are here for you, Raina," Daenerys murmured. "We always will be."

VAEGON nursed a glass of Mereneese red as if his life depended on it. Selmy's death had affected him much in the way that Jorah's banishment had, a wise male figure he looked to for guidance swept out from under him. Given Raina's disposition, he'd forced himself to remain strong for his wife.

Yet, Raina's grief hit him deeper. Seeing the way his wife clung so desperately to him after ordering the plumes of dragonfire to be unleashed from Haelyx had forced a pit of sorrow to open inside him for her. She'd lost so much. Her father, she'd told him, had been beheaded before her eyes with a crowd cheering for his demise. Her brother, victim to forsworn hospitality. He was sure there was more, but she'd only spoken freely about those instances.

With the assistance of servants, he'd guided her to bed to rest for the remainder of the day as soon as they'd returned to the pyramid. Grief and a growing child had been draining her quickly as of late and he would ensure she remained well taken care of.

Now that Selmy had been returned to ash, matters needed to turn to the day ahead. They would be opening the pits on the morrow. He and both of his wives would need to steel themselves against the grief they were experiencing and present themselves as a strong front for the events they would need to he present for, albiet begrudgingly.

Choosing worthy fighters would come first, he'd been informed by Hizdahr, the man reeking of intimidation the longer he was forced to brief the king on the itinerary.

Vaegon didn't want to force Raina to see more death, but he wouldn't be able to order her to more resting while the fighting pits resumed their activities. He needed his publicly recognized queen at his side. Both of his queens, as Daenerys would be there as well.

Knocking at the common apartments door drew his attention away from his wine and his worries.

"Enter," he called before tipping back the remainder of his beverage and setting the chalice on the nearest flat surface.

Sid, the head of the team that was tasked with researching on the dragons and their care, entered the room. He bowed his head to the king in greeting. The beads in his beard clinked together with his movements.

"Your Grace," he said, standing a respectful distance away. "I wished to report on the progress with our research. And to offer my condolences on the loss of your advisor as well."

Vaegon sighed. "Thank you. What do you have for me?"

"We've been working extensively with the material you have so graciously provided us," Sid told him. His voice had always been heavily accented. "While we are still unfamiliar with the workings of dragon behavior and habits, the ancient texts have offered enough insight for us to make educated hypothesis."

Despite being bogged with stress, Vaegon perked in interest. He scooted to the edge of his seat and clasped his hands together, attentive and waiting for more information from the animal trainer.

"According to the accounts of old Valyrian texts, it appears that the dragons are fairing well with their access to open space." He gestured in a outward sweeping motion as if covering the span of the imaginary prairie he was referring to. "The Valyrians learned quickly that locking away the beast's stunted their growth, causing them failure to thrive. With that freedom they granted them, they found that frequent interactions between rider and dragon did well with harnessing the innate chaotic nature of their existence."

Vaegon cocked a brow. "So what is it you are saying needs done, then?"

"My colleagues and I," Sid clasped his hands infront of him. "We believe that the dragons should be partaking in flight with their riders to further reinforce this behavior. Their is only so much we as their caretakers can do with the Valyrian language. They need you, Your Grace, and your queens to take to dragon-back before they are drawn to unsavory behaviors."

Perhaps some of the best news he'd heard in quite some time, a damning realization hit him almost immediately.

"But my dragon is still loose in the wilds," Vaegon pointed out in defeat. "I have seen him but once."

Sid frowned at the information. "If he has chosen to make his appearance at all, I believe that is sign enough that he is choosing to linger around Mereen now. The reports of his location have reached as far as Old Valyria." Vaegon's brow rose at that, prompting the animal trainer for more. "So I believe it is with good assumption that he will be ready to return soon. They are still a long way off from maturing, after all."

That was perhaps good news, the king thought, that his dragon was choosing to linger around the city. He held hope he would one day in the near future journey down to the prairie to find Rhaellor with his clutch mates.

"Also, Your Grace, we found in newer texts from Westeros that it appears that Targaryen women seem to promote the laying of clutches as well." Vaegon's heart skipped with hope. "But it is just a theory. Perhaps Queen Raina, given she carries your babe, may be able to test this hypothesis? If only to gain it some merit."

More dragons. The possibility of growing their ilk was liberating to the king. Viserys was hopefully rolling in his grave then, outraged at the thought of Vaegon becoming everything his elder brother thought he had been and would be.

Vaegon hoped he was enjoying his golden crown wherever he was.

"Continue to work with Drokar and Haelyx," Vaegon ordered the handler. "I will speak with my wives. I fear that our emerald beast may be without a flight with her rider for some months until my heir is born."

Sid nodded in understanding. "Of course, Your Grace. We will research more in the texts as well as we wait for further instruction from you."

The handler left Vaegon alone in the apartments once more. The silence assumed, consuming him.

Plopping back against the seat, he sighed. His eyes drifted to the balcony, where the opened sky gaped in a display of serene blue, few clouds to be seen.

The king finally had his queens, an army, and an heir on the way. For the time being, his only desire was for his dragon to return so they might hasten the return to their home country.