𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐎𝐅 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐀! house of the dragon

002 : HEIR OF THE DRAGON

chapter two
act i : blood among fire

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          THE WIND BLEW GENTLY AS THE LORDS OF THE ROYAL COURT GATHERED OUTSIDE THE CITY WALLS. Several days had passed since the death of Queen Aemma Arryn and the newborn Prince Baelon, and now it was time for their funeral. Aenar stood stoically next to his father, watching as the bodies of the Queen and the Prince were wrapped in separate bundles and doused in flammable material for the funeral pyre to be lit. As per Targaryen customs in the tradition of their Valyrian ancestors, when a member of House Targaryen were to die, they were to be cremated by dragon fire and have their ashes interred beneath the Red Keep.

The Targaryen Prince lowered his head as a single tear escaped his violet eyes. His mother, his sweet and kind mother was dead. Killed in childbirth along with his younger brother, Baelon, all because his father wanted a son he could be proud of, a son who would be worthy enough to inherit the Iron Throne, a son who was a Dragonrider. A son that Aenar wasn't. Aemma Targaryen died because he had failed in his duties, because he had failed his House. Because he had not been good enough.

Aenar's left hand reached up and grabbed the blue ribbon that was still tied to his right arm. The favor his mother had given to him when he had promised to win the tournament in her honor. In his sibling's honor. He had vowed his mother he would emerge victorious yet he had not. He hadn't been able to keep the last promise he had made to her. The thought was going to haunt him till the end of his days.

The silence among them droned on, crushing all those present as it grew louder and pounded in their ears. Or maybe it was just him. All Aenar knew was that he wanted the funeral to end, but that could only happen after the bodies were burned to ashes. An act that required the assistance of a dragon, Rhaenyra's dragon. Since she was the King's eldest child, it fell to her to complete the funeral procession.

The dirty-blond haired youth didn't even notice when his uncle Daemon stepped up silently next to him, appearing as stoic as he was. Rhaenyra stood a few feet away with the Lady Alicent Hightower at her side, both of them holding hands tightly in grief. He wanted to go to her, to comfort his sister but he didn't know how to. He didn't know whether she would even want him in her presence.

"Here, take this, nephew." The Rogue Prince spoke lowly from his side, the melding words of High Valyrian piercing through the soft whistling of the summer breeze. Aenar turned his head and saw him holding up a wreath of white flowers.

"The Champion's Favor." The Targaryen Prince muttered as he held a downcast look on his face. "Why are you giving it to me?"

Daemon set his lips in a thin line, a myriad of emotions concealed within his steely violet eyes. "I think both you and I agree that my goodsister, your mother, was most deserving of this crown. You fought in the tourney for her. You deserve the honor of naming her your Queen of Love and Beauty."

Aenar felt a lump beginning to form in his throat at his uncle's words but he forced it down and gingerly took the wreath of white flowers in his hands. After whispering a silent thank you, he slowly stepped forwards and moved towards the funeral pyre. He could feel numerous eyes watching him go but he paid them no mind. All that mattered were the bodies that lay shrouded before him.