𝐒𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐍 ( 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬. )

chapter sixteen.

( ACT II; the age of the dragon. )
⟵ ◊ ⟶
chapter 16: do what kings do.

MILK of the poppy was given to the king by the healers to periodically stave away the pain that came with his blistered palms and the poultice-filled and wrapped wounds slashed on his abdomen. His hands were left unbound, laying at his sides where he lied in his bed in the chambers that had been claimed for him in the Great Pyramid.

The relief the foul tasting liquid gave him was enough to allow sleep with no pain, but the unusual feeling in his head and throughout his body was enough to make him choose to wean off the substance after a few days. Therefore, he fought the pain on his own

Vaguely, he could remember Barristan and Jorah working together to gently guide him into the chambers and lower him to the bed after they'd assumed control of Mereen and ascended the pyramid. Luckily, his small council had stepped forward to take care of things in the kings stead, Barristan making sure to keep him updated on things when he could as the king was conscious. He was unsure of where Daenerys or Raina were, but he prayed they were far apart if they were in the pyramid. He was far from capable of being able to diffuse a situation where conflict arose between the two women, Daenerys's uncanny rage being what had landed him in the situation he was currently in.

The heavy door to his chambers creaked open to reveal Daenerys quietly making her way inside. Though still drowsy from his sleep, he grew worried. He wasn't sure how many days had passed since they'd taken up their residence in the pyramid, but between his times of unconsciousness he hadn't spoken to Daenerys once.

She stopped a few feet away from his bed with an expression he found hard to read. Her lips were set in a thin line, her eyes looking toward him but not necessarily at him. Hands clasped together and remaining in front of her, it was obvious she was waiting for him to speak first. Likely expecting him to take his turn to unleash his rage.

"How long has it been?" Vaegon asked her with a rough voice that hadn't spoken in days. He truly had no sense of time since the milk of the poppy had hindered his mind.

Clearing her throat, she said, "Since we've taken the city and assumed our place in the pyramid, four days."

Letting out a huff of contempt for his disposition that had left him otherwise bedridden, he said, "I've been in this bed for far too long. What of our dragons? Where are they?"

"They are fairing just fine. I've made sure there's a patrol of Unsullied that have been watching them and feeding them outside the city walls. They've made an area of their own in a farmers meadow, whom I'm made sure to compensate for." Daenerys pursed her lips. "I didn't come here to speak of our dragons, Vaegon. I wished to apologize."

He wanted to remain angry and bitter. Daenerys' behavior had been unlike anything he'd seen from her. Yet his better judgement and overall exhaustion from recovery pressed him to let their discussion spiral into another violent occasion.