( 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 Targaryens 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 knew that, but he saw no other option in leading the retinue unless they wished to find themselves butchered and enslaved 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, 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 resented each other amid all their other pressing issues. Daenerys was angered over Vaegon's plan to leave the Khalasar for the Free Cities, while he still harbored anger toward her for everything else that had occurred.

Yet, he could not remain too disheartened toward her. It was she, he had deduced, that had saved his life in the flames. With every row of flames he'd hoped over, the center of the pyre growing closer and closer, his skin had burned. It had burned horribly, and he thought he would soon perish until his hand made contact with Daenerys. With the contact of their skin, it had been as if the flames didn't exist. There was no burn when he touched her; that was how they emerged with her grasped in his embrace, the hatchlings between them.

Along with their enduring resentment, Vaegon knew he didn't have the same sway that Daenerys did over the Dothraki, for they are her people, but he knew they had gained some reverence towards him since the dragons hatched. Either way, he was concerned about what may come to pass and whether things may worsen with his sister.

But his life was owed to her, he thought. He should have burned in Drogo's pyre and met an agonizing death, but the moment his hand had made contact with Daenerys's shoulder, it was as if the flames were but a steaming, comfortable bath against his skin.

Magic was the first thought that crossed his mind, somehow conjured by whatever Daenerys did. But Vaegon forsook it in favor of reason. He thought there hadn't been any semblance of magic in the Targaryen line since the dragons, yet the very breath he drew in at that moment could only explain nothing short of a miracle...

"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 before we entered this waste."

"If we had stayed where we were, we would have already been butchered," Ser Jorah responded. His breath was 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's white mare. The animals that had died were butchered.

"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 was 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 the m, and no other man has a right to touch them."

Vaegon envisioned a time in the future when all three of their dragons were full-grown, monstrous beasts with shadows that could cover entire towns and flames that could turn castles to ash. He thought of the fear that would shake the Westerosi lords to their cores and how easily they would bend their knees. He saw it somewhere far in the future and took faith, knowing it would come one day. Among the pressing issues they were currently facing, he kept faith that they would conquer one day.

Where the two walked alongside one another, Jorah looked back to see Daenerys walking alongside her white mare, a grim expression apparent on her features as her eyes remained trained on the ground. The older man frowned to himself before looking back at Vaegon.

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

"No," Vaegon answered. "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 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 frowned. "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 compete against her in whatever troubles come."

♜

HOURS of their trek passed before the retinue was forced to halt. The dying cry of a horse had all of their attention yanked toward Daenerys' Silver, which had collapsed to the sand in exhaustion. Dany was quick to come to her horse's comfort, caressing its cheek while knowing its death was imminent. She felt salty tears stream down her dirty, dry cheeks as she watched the life drain from the animal's eyes. Her heart dropped, knowing it was the last bit of Drogo she had left. She had nothing now.

A hand rested gently on her back. She turned to see Vaegon looking down on her, Jorah close by, before she looked back to her dead horse. She began 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 obeyed and began ordering the Dothraki to prepare the horse. Daenerys called over three riders, Jhogo, Rhakkaro, and Aego, who all came at her command. She spoke to them for a moment, pointing in different directions. Vaegon watched as they all turned to the few remaining horses and mounted, disappearing into the heat mirage.

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

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

"That's wise," he praised 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 nodded in agreement. "I'll send them off."

As the evening dragged on and the sun began to wane, the Dothraki found enough wood to create a small fire. Daenerys' mare has been butchered, and there is enough meat to feed everyone in attendance. It was a slight relief from the troubles they'd all been facing. Most of the Dothraki were resting by then, Jorah was off on his own business, and Daenerys was 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 roosted on Vaegon's arm, the fire's light glinted off the hatchling's scales. Vaegon offered a piece of the horse meat, and the blue and white hatchling cocked his head to the side, looking at the morsel as if it were something foreign.

"Come on now," Vaegon uttered to himself. He thought about getting Rhaellor to eat until an idea occurred to him, and he found a nearby stick. Setting the hatchling on the ground, he speared the morsel and stuck it in the fire. Once the meat had turned a deep brown and sizzling, he pulled it out to offer to his hatchling once more.

Rhaellor cocked 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 a high-pitched growl before downing it in nearly an entire gulp.

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

"It's a small victory, but a victory all the same," the king sighed.

♜

NOT far from the campfire, Daenerys and Jorah sat silently. The knight watched as she held her dragon Drokar, with the third hatchling, Haelyx, also present. The knight still wondered if their new existence was an illusion, but he knew what he saw. Seeing Daenerys and Vaegon emerge from the ashes was a sight 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 told her as he watched her attend to her dragons. She fed them cooked meat after Vaegon discovered the secret a little while ago.

"I like to believe I am," she replied as Drokar took a morsel from her fingers.

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

"Only I am not a true queen," she said. "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 told her, despite his resentment toward the siblings' love for each other. He knew his love for Daenerys was wrong, and nothing would ever come from it, but it didn't change how he felt toward her. He would always love her.

Daenerys looked at him with a shocked expression. She turned her attention back to the dragons.

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

"I don't know what you are talking about," she quickly denied.

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

Daenerys pursed her lips as if she were 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 reconquer Westeros. I would be of no use to him. I cannot bear children. These are the only children I'll ever have."

Jorah looked down at the dragons, who looked up at Daenerys as if she were their mother. Jorah knew that the magic that took her son away from her was a dark, cruel power, but it had never quite occurred to him that she may never bear children again at the expense of it.

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

The knight sympathized with her but knew she was right. He only hoped that things might change between them between then and the time that they finally take King's Landing. He could hope, but his hopes were not high.

"When the time comes, this will be discussed," Jorah said. "Don't fret, Khaleesi."

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

"You are a strong and capable woman," Jorah assured 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 embraced Drokar and Haelyx. She smirked weakly. "I suppose all I can do with that is be one."