The Dragon-Tamer

04

*THREE DAYS LATER*

The funeral pyre for Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon was held on the Queen's favorite hill overlooking the Narrow Sea. Feyre stood between King Viserys and Princess Rhaenyra. Her family had traveled back to Winterfell a few days before, so she had no one to stand with. It didn't matter though; her only focus was on Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra had barely been seen out of her room since her mother's death. She had locked herself in and had her meals brought up to her room. She would not let anyone in aside from Feyre, who had been spending every night comforting her dearest friend.

Feyre felt a presence behind her and turn her head to see Prince Daemon.

The Prince laid a hand on Rhaenyra's shoulder, "They're waiting for you."

Feyre knew today was going to be difficult for the princess, especially because the burden of burning her mother and brother fell on her. Rhaenyra reaches for Feyre's hand, gripping it with all her might. She had no idea what would happen if she didn't have her Feyre, her saving grace. Having the comfort of her favorite person really made everything slightly easier.

Feyre rubs Rhaenyra's arm and leans in her ear, "Take all the time you need, Nyra; there is no rush."

"Speak for yourself, Lady Feyre; I have important matters to attend to," The Prince spoke in High Valyrian.

The mage looked back at Daemon with a slight glare. She knew he was probably happy that he was still Visery's heir and the fact that he thinks that he can rush this funeral along like it was nothing made her blood boil.

"I highly doubt fucking whores is an important matter, My Prince."

Feyre smirked at Daemon's dumbfounded expression. The man had no idea that the girl was educated in the language of Old Valyria. It was both confusing and intriguing to him.

Rhaenyra's shaky voice broke through the wind, "I hope that, in the few hours my brother lived, my father was finally happy."

"You're father needs you, Nyra," Feyre whispered.

Rhaenyra looks at her father with a sad look. Feyre glanced at Viserys and saw him looking lost as he gazed at the wrapped bodies of his wife and son. He hadn't once checked on Rhaenyra these past few days. Feyre understood that he was grieving, but he still had a daughter to think of.

"I will never be a son," Rhaenyra let go of Feyre's hand and walked forward.

Rhaenyra looks at Syrax, who was awaiting her rider's command. The princess tried to speak but the words died on her tongue; she couldn't do it. She looked back at Feyre, who gave her an encouraging smile, and then at her father, who wouldn't even look at her. It was then that Rhaenyra realized just how much she meant to her father.
Rhaenyra cleared her throat and turned to Syrax, "Dracarys!"

Feyre watched as the dragon set fire to the pyre and the bodies go up in flames. She walked up to Rhaenyra's side and took her hand. The girls stayed in their spots as everyone else moved back to the Red Keep.

"I've never felt really close with my family," Feyre's voice broke the silence.

Rhaenyra looked at the girl in confusion, "What do you mean?"