The White Dragon

THE AFTERMATH

THE WHITE DRAGON CHAPTER 4 : THE AFTERMATH

A FANFICTION ON HBO'S HOUSE OF THE DRAGON

THE FUNERAL OF QUEEN AEMMA AND PRINCE BAELON : DAENERYS

'The world is cruel. Great scholars, preachers and warriors alike have all spoken how the worst way to die would be. Die with sin in your heart, die dumb and without knowledge, die without glory or valor, die in your bed at an old age, yet if they took a moment to ask a woman, she would tell a tale that would make the proudest of men turn away, the loudest of men quiet, and the strongest men faint.' Daenerys thinks to herself, her heart aching and her teeth grinding as she looks over the funeral pyre for Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon.

Being a woman who has survived five stillbirths and three more babes dying in the cradle, Daenerys considered herself an expert in a woman's suffering. The possibility of dying in the birthing chamber, surrounded by many capable of delivering a baby and a husband more willing to save the child. It is a frightening ordeal yet men like Aegon and Viserys still forced their belief onto their wives.

The wind blows softly as Daenerys stands alongside Aerys, who has Alicent in his arms who softly sobs into his chest and notes how many gathered watch the King with differing looks in their eyes. 

While it was a somber affair, the silence could not be louder. Rumors had begun to spread like a disease, talks on how the King had ordered the death of his wife, and out of grief, he killed the child. Aerys had ensured that the rumors were shut down immediately, yet all that seemed to do was spark more controversy.

Glancing towards her nephew Daenerys watches as Viserys looks like a beaten flea ridden dog; his head hung low, his body swaying almost along with the wind, a piece of his soul no longer with him.

Daenerys glances at Rhaenyra, who stands lifelessly as Daemon whispers in her ear. The yellow dragon of Rhaenyra makes her way over the hill, looking over the wooden pyre set for the Queen and her son, Prince Baelor with sadness, matching that of her rider's. Rhaenyra's breath hitches but she cries out, "Dracarys."

Syrax glances towards the pyre almost wishing for consent, and with a small nod from Rhaenyra, Syrax releases a torrent of flames, engulfing the wooden pyre in orange fire. The flames dance along the pyre, before engulfing the wrapped Targaryen Queen and Prince and everyone watches on. Aerys holds Alicent close to him, hearing her soft sobs, yet he stands tall. Daenerys glares at Viserys who puts his head down in shame and guilt.

As cruel as it is, Daenerys wonders who Viserys truly mourns for. Does he weep for Aemma or Baelon. Does he lament for ordering his wife's death, or the idea that his son still died, despite what it cost. 

Daenerys walks towards Rhaenyra and places a hand on her shoulder remembering how her own son had to burn his father's pure and how he stood along with Rhaenys to laid their grandfather to rest. The princess simply shrugs the hand off before walking away, not waiting for Alicent, her father, her uncle or even a Kingsguard to follow after the grieving girl.

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Daenerys walks into the small council chamber and places the silver sphere into it's placeholder, and waits for the council to begin. One by one the members take their place until her nephew walks into the room and looks around with solemn eyes "Where is Rhaenyra?"

"I thought it be best that she be allowed to rest in these trying times, nephew." Daenerys says making Viserys nod softly. "Your grace, this is the last thing any of us wish to discuss at this dark hour, but I consider the matter of upmost importance." Otto says making Viserys look at him with a look of confusion etched onto his face.  "What matter?"