𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐋 - House of the Dragon

𝐈𝐕.

𝐇𝐎𝐖𝐋

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑: 𝐈𝐕.

- 112 A . C .

King's Landing

Baelon and Aemma's funeral is held the next day. The sun is setting over the Blackwater and the royal court has gathered to see the funeral pyre set alight. Waiting on a small hill sits Syrax, Princess Rhaenyra's golden she-dragon.

The bodies have been prepared in the Targaryen custom, wrapped in linens and laid on the pyre. Viserys can hardly stand to look at them, staring resolutely at the ground. Beside him, Daenys holds his arm, fighting back the tears welling in her eyes.

From the corner of her eye, she watches Daemon step toward Rhaenyra, his voice soft as he says, "They're waiting for you."

The waves crash against the cliffside. In Orys's arms, Jocelyn is crying quietly, her father doing his best to calm her.

Slowly, Rhaenyra steps forward. "Dra- -" she begins, her voice choked with the start of tears. She takes a deep breath, steels herself, and then, finally, she states, "Dracarys!"

Syrax bows her head to the task, breathing a burst of scarlet flame. Daenys swallows hard as she watches the pyre ignite. "Geros ilas," she whispers.

Viserys nods stiffly. "Geros ilas," he echoes, tears rolling down his cheeks.

The castle is solemn that night. Daenys stands before the window of her chambers, bouncing Jocelyn in her arms, trying to get the child to stop crying and settle in for the night. She sings softly, the old Valyrian songs she remembers Viserys used to sing to her when she was young.

Her own mother had died when she was hardly a year old. Her twin, Aegon, had gone the same way. She doesn't remember them, but she's heard all the stories Viserys and Daemon had about their mother. Alyssa Targaryen had been willful and proud, but birthing twins had taken its toll. She did not last the year after Aegon and Daenys were born.

Baelon Targaryen had been a good man, but losing his bride left him unable to care for little Daenys. Viserys and Daemon were all she had, then.

They're all she has now, as well.

She's drawn from her daze by the voice in her bed, Orys, his voice thick with tiredness and annoyance. "Perhaps she'd stop crying if you spoke her own language to her."