Bronze She-Dragon

Chapter 17: Maddened

YEAR 130 AC

The wind was quiet that day, yet the skies were grim, covered in giant grey clouds. The whole world seemed to be silent: not a single noise was heard, and not a single voice was audible enough to be comprehended. A single thing that broke the quiet was sobbing. As Helaena's body, wrapped in the white fabric, was lying on the heap of wood, inconsolable Queen-mother Alicent was wiping her tears with the sleeve of her black mourning gown. The older woman no longer looked alive: the color disappeared completely from her skin, and all the strength to live seemed to have left her body. She couldn't stand on her own, leaning on the arm of her second son, Aemond. The prince looked very pale, his eyes red from tears. He never cried: neither of misery nor pain. Yet, on the day of his sweet sister's funeral, the small salty drops kept treacherously coursing down his cheeks, exposing his grief to everyone around him. Daena stood next to them, squeezing the hands of Jaehaera and Ceryssa in hers. The Lady's eyes were swollen, her complexion covered in pale red patches. No matter how much she tried to hold the crying in, she was failing miserably. There wasn't a single other death that affected Daena so much. Neither her mother's, nor her infant son's, nor even the brutality of Jaehaerys's. All of them lost their lives unwillingly, yet their lives had been happy, not clouded by a single worry. Daena couldn't stop thinking about it: how much must her precious Helaena have suffered to resort to taking her own life? Every single time the thought of it appeared in her head, her vision went blurry her eyes were welling up with tears. Aegon was not present: that day his pains got worse, so he had to stay in bed, drowning himself in the milk of poppy.

"My daughter... My child..." Alicent pleaded quietly, keeping her gaze on the body.

Daena pressed her lips together, trying to hold in a desperate cry. That very moment she felt the warmth of someone's hand on her shoulder. She turned her head slightly to see that it was Aemond, his eyes piercing hers in the same miserable expression.

Vermithor was taking a stand right next to the woods Helaena's body found its final resting place, awaiting for the fateful word to be uttered by his rider. Daena couldn't gather her courage to say it, as it meant saying farewell to her dear sister forever. She stared at everyone instead, trying to understand whether they were ready to witness Helaena's final rite. Finally, as some long minutes passed, Alicent switched her gaze to her eldest daughter, giving her a slight nod.

"Dr... Dra..." Daena's voice was shaking as he was trying to utter the word, her whole insides clenched. It took her a few moments to finally build up her strength when she pronounced: "Dracarys."

The dragon slowly lowered his head, setting the woods ablaze in a matter of seconds. Both Jaehaera and Ceryssa turned their gazes away, burying their faces into Daena's belly. While Daena's eyes reflected her deep sorrow, Aemond's reflected two things: pain and an intoxicating desire for vengeance. Now he didn't just want the Black's head on the spikes, like he did before. He wanted them dead in torment, screaming in agony and fear, for all the suffering they had brought to his family.

Once the funeral was over, Daena slowly approached her dragon, intending to climb onto his back. Vermithor had to be taken back to the Dragonpit, where he resided most of the time. Before she had a chance to do so, she felt the skirts of her dress being pulled. Daena turned around only to see her daughter Ceryssa, her little face almost begging her mother to stay. Daena smiled sadly, caressing her child's cheek with the back of her hand.

"I have to go, my dear. But I will be back soon, I promise."

However, despite what was said by the Lady, the girl didn't let the skirts go, holding onto them even more tightly than before. Daena sighed timidly: she knew her daughter was as stubborn as she was. Moreover, lecturing the child on such a horrible day was an inhumane thing to do. The young woman extended her hand to Ceryssa.