Jaehaerys, the "Good King," had never seemed so alone. Without his beloved queen Alysanne's comfort and companionship, that loneliness felt all the more profound.
Over a reign spanning nearly sixty years, Jaehaerys had received praise unmatched by any other king.
In the eyes of others:
At every age, Jaehaerys had always looked regal and wise. He wore a long, neatly groomed white beard, and his crown was a gold circlet set with seven gems of different colors.
Put simply, the man had dignity. That might not sound like much, but aristocratic dignity had followed the same pattern across ages and cultures.
Judging people by their appearance never went out of fashion!
Jaehaerys was skilled in riding and archery, proficient with lance and bow. Decisive and wise in both thought and action, he always found the most peaceful way to resolve disputes, bringing the kingdom many years of peace and prosperity.
Jaehaerys and Alysanne had thirteen children over their lifetime. Nine survived to adulthood. His last two sons were gone now: his eldest, Aemon, had died, and his second son, Baelon, had died as well.
Now Jaehaerys gazed silently at the burned-out pyre. The old man remained as calm and composed as ever.
Yet the assembled nobles still caught a trace of desolation on that eternally dignified face.
"Creak, creak, creak!"
As he watched a pink hatchling crawl out of his son's funeral pyre, even the old king, renowned for his calm composure, failed to hold his expression steady. A crack appeared in his impassive face.
The hatchling headed straight toward Danyla the moment she emerged from the ashes. Watching the little pink dragon crawl toward his great-niece, Jaehaerys followed her.
Danyla had been watching the funeral pyre closely all along. After all, she had arranged for someone to slip the Dragon Egg into it.
Wasn't this how the Mother of Dragons hatched her three dragons? I had to give it a try. Even if it didn't hatch, I wouldn't lose anything. If it did, wouldn't I hit the jackpot?
Watching the pink hatchling crawl toward her, one little step at a time, Danyla gave herself a mental thumbs-up and congratulated herself on her windfall.
Danyla ran straight toward her pink hatchling. She scooped the wildcat-sized dragon into her arms, and the hatchling affectionately rubbed her warm little head against Danyla's chest.
Danyla gently stroked her in return. Petting a dragon really was quite a dignified pastime.
Dreamfyre, who had been guarding Danyla all this time, saw that her mistress had acquired another favorite and immediately brought her enormous head closer, staring fixedly at the pink hatchling.
Danyla reached out and called loudly to Dreamfyre in the tongue of Old Valyria,
"From now on, you'll have to hunt more good prey to feed this little pink dragon so she can grow up quickly."
Dreamfyre snorted a blast of hot air in displeasure, cast the little pink dragon a disdainful glance, and flew away.
"Little Dany, is this your dragon?"
Jaehaerys bent down and asked Danyla kindly.
"Yes, Your Grace. Though, to be precise, she's the dragon that just hatched from my Dragon Egg."
"I didn't have anything very precious, so I thought I'd give my most treasured Dragon Egg to Prince Baelon to take with him. That way, whenever he missed home, he could look at it. He'd have a Dragon Egg from House Targaryen to keep him company."
Meanwhile, Jaehaerys was pondering how Danyla had managed to form close bonds with two Great Dragons.
Danyla is a kind, pretty child, with bright silver hair and black eyes tinged with purple. That makes her somewhat different from the rest of the family. Most Targaryens have silver hair and purple eyes.
We've never had eyes of that black-purple shade before. She can hatch a dragon and form close bonds with two dragons, so her blood must be quite pure.
It seems children named Dany in our family are all extraordinary!
"Your Grace, look how adorable my little pink dragon is. There's never been a Great Dragon with such a vivid color in Targaryen history."
"She's the very embodiment of art. I think she's the one who ought to be called Myracis."
"Myracis, the goddess of art? An ancient deity of Old Valyria, and the name of the only Great Dragon to fall among House Targaryen's three founding dragons. That is indeed a fine name."
"Our little Dany has hatched her own Great Dragon too—Myracis. Hahaha, wonderful!"
"History always comes full circle. Where there is death, there is new life. That is the simplest and most profound truth."
Jaehaerys stood up, spread his arms, and proclaimed loudly to everyone,
"My lords and ladies, House Targaryen's Myracis has returned today! Congratulations to Danyla, and praise to Myracis!"
"Myracis! Myracis! Myracis!"
Every Great Dragon was an important strategic asset to House Targaryen. The birth of a new Great Dragon at his son's funeral was, at the very least, something to lift their spirits.
And the wise Jaehaerys had already sensed countless conspiracies closing around him as he approached the end of his life.
Danyla truly is a child born under an auspicious sign! If only she were a boy!
Jaehaerys sighed inwardly, then let Danyla leave.
After watching Danyla return to Aemma's side, Jaehaerys turned back to continue the funeral. There was still a whole succession of rites to complete: placing the remains in the coffin, sealing the grave, prayers, and the feast!
Barely containing her excitement, Danyla returned to Aemma with light steps, carrying Myracis in her arms.
"Congratulations, Dany. Myracis is so beautiful. One day, she'll surely be the most beautiful dragon in House Targaryen."
Aemma immediately offered her congratulations.
"My dragon is much bigger than yours. Syrax is the goddess of harvests and abundance. Nothing like that Myracis of yours, who was shot dead with a single arrow."
"They suggested calling my dragon Myracis at first too, but I refused. I chose the name Syrax myself. That's the name that suits my dragon."
Rhaenyra proudly looked Myracis over as she mocked Danyla.
"Yes, my darling niece. Everyone says the beautiful Princess Rhaenyra has a dragon called Syrax, and that Syrax, just like her mistress, is the most beautiful in all Westeros. The light of the Kingdom! You'll have to teach your aunt plenty from now on. How do you raise a dragon so well?"
With that, Danyla fixed Rhaenyra with a bright, sparkling gaze.
"N-no, it's not quite that impressive. You're my aunt. Don't worry, I'll look after you from now on."
Rhaenyra first blushed and spoke a little shyly. Then she puffed out her chest.
"Really? Then I'll be counting on Your Highness's guidance!"
You little thing. I'll have you wrapped around my finger!
Rhaenyra looked thoroughly pleased at that.
Having an aunt might not be so bad after all. Then she took Danyla's hand, and they walked together toward her mother, Aemma.
Danyla, who had thrown herself wholeheartedly into the act, suddenly felt a little embarrassed. How was I supposed to deal with that?!
By the time all the ceremonies were over, evening had arrived, and the feast began on schedule in the Painted Table Chamber and Aegon's Garden.
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