Watching the Last Dragon Die

The day was too hot, three-year-old Elaena thought, safe in her mother's arms.

It was summer, four days after the sixth moon of the 153th year after Aegon's Conquest. Elaena wasn't wandering around the Red Keep as she would on a normal day. Instead, she, her parents, brothers and sisters and half the population of King's Landing had gathered in the Dragonpit, where they were waching the last dragon die.

It was the only dragon Elaena had ever seen, and she didn't excite her much. An ill-looking, frail green female one, it was, her head no bigger than one of the kennelmaster's dog's. Uninteresting. Boring. The little girl had been dreaming of ferocious beasts ever since her brother Daeron had told her what dragons were. But there were no more dragons, Daeron had added in a sad voice. 'They're all dead, sister', he had said. 'And they'll never come again.'

Thus, little Elaena had to settle for that one. The sickly, fragile little freak.

Why couldn't she be a little bigger, like the dragons on the illustrations on the books Daeron showed her? Elaena would mount her then. They would cross the Narrow Sea together, they'd get on adventures -

'Is this the dragon the whole fuss is about?' Elaena heard the favourite of her siblings, Daena, ask their mother, her pretty nose wrinkled. 'That's no dragon, that's no more than a snake.'

'It's all what is left,' Daenaera explained calmly to her. 'Once, great beasts flew in the skies, huge enough to shadow the whole of King's Landing.

'I'd like one of those,' said Daena, and Elaena couldn't help but agree with her sister. 'I was born to ride a dragon.'

'The dragons are gone,' said Daeron, a daring boy of ten, impatiently, like he couldn't stand his sister's stupidity.

'And it's for the best they are,' whispered Baelor. It was the first time Elaena had heard him speak the entire day. He was very quiet, that brother of hers.

Daena pouted.

'I wish I knew what a real dragon looked like,' she said. 'I bet they were nothing like this snake.'

'Ask your father,' suggested Daenaera with a smile.

Daena snorted.

'What's the point?' she asked. 'He won't tell me, he never talks about dragons, he never talks about anything -' As much as Daena adored her father, his unwillingness to talk about dragons irritated his oldest daughter, who was high-spirited and careless and cheerful and dreamed of participating in a tourney some day.

'Then maybe you should stop asking him,' Daeron said, with a smug smile.

Daena smacked Daeron in the shoulder, albeit lightly. She'd never dream of truly hurting him, who was her favourite sibling.

Elaena glanced around. People from all seven of the kingdoms were present to see the dragon before she died. For most, it was their only chance, she realised. Not everyone lived in King's Landing, not everyone could afford to visit at any time.

Not far away, stood the rest of Elaena's family. There was Uncle Viserys, shrewd, and older-looking than he truly was. There was his son Aegon, carelessly handsome and bored. Aemon was, as always, in his white Kingsguard armor. The last member of their family, Naerys, delicate, sweet-smelling Naerys, was heavy. She was going to become a mother, the maesters kept telling her, but none of them would tell Elaena how did the child end up in Naerys's belly, nor how it'd get out.

Elaena liked Naerys well enough, but she was no fun. She wasn't like Daena, wild, outspoken Daena. If anything, Naerys was a lot like Rhaena, quiet and timid, and even worse, like Baelor. She liked Aemon as well (he was, after all, a knight) but was too mild for her likening. And Aegon... Aegon was capricious and loud, and there was something about him that made Elaena cringe. She couldn't put her foot on what it was. Maybe it was his greedy eyes, or grasping hands. Naerys looked a lot more miserable ever since she had married him, earlier that same year.

Farther still, Elaena could see her father's sisters, along with their husbands and children, who would pay a visit to King's Landing once in a blue moon. Baela and Rhaena, after whom Elaena's brother and sister Baelor and Rhaena had been named. Elaena liked Rhaena. Rhaena was very pretty, tall and willowy, with silver-white hair and lovely bluish-purple eyes. Her twin sister Baela looked just like her, except for some bad burns across her face, which extended to her arms and hands. Elaena couldn't like Baela, no matter how she tried. Her malformed face frightened her too much. She would always cry when Baela tried to hold her. It wasn't her fault. Baela was scary. She didn't want her anywhere near her.

Next to her, stood a man much more beautiful and interesting than her. Her husband, Elaena guessed. Why would a man as pretty as he ever take a woman as ugly as Baela, Elaena knew not. Tall, broad-shouldered, long-haired, he stool proud like a cypress. He had the look of knight, or, at least, looked like how knights should, according to Elaena, at least. He must be someone great, Elaena decided. Someone important. I will ask Father.

The tall, curly-haired, dressed-in-green man next to Rhaena whispered something in his wife's ear. Elaena couldn't hear what, but it made Rhaena cringe, and Elaena could swear she saw her aunt shed a tear. Baela took her sister's and clenched it tight. She too whispered words in Rhaena's ears, which only made it worse. Baela's eyes were too glistening with water. Elaena wondered why were the two women so shaken. What memories could a dragon have brought up?

Suddenly, the dragon left a cry. A desperate call for help. She tried to stand up, but fell back again.

'Will it soar and fly?' Daena asked thrilled, suddenly much more interested in the dragon than she was before.

'I don't think so,' said Daeron. 'She's too frail, she's about to die.'

'Poor beast,' sighed Elaena's sister Rhaena, embracing her own arms.

'It's for the best,' Baelor muttered again. 'Dragons are no good.'

Daena glared at her brother.

'If I had a dragon, I'd order him to spit fire at you!' she said and pulled out her tongue.

Baelor looked at her scandalised, but Daeron bursted into laughter.

'A good thing that you don't have a dragon, then,' their mother scolded her. 'Daena, I will let you know that that was very rude. And not lady-like at all. You should apologise to your brother at once.'

To Elaena's surprise, Daena nodded obediently. Daena! Daena, who, for as long as Elaena knew her, had been defiant.

'I am sincerely sorry, Baelor,' she said, with the most innocent look in the world, but the sparkle in her eyes said otherwise.

And true enough, when Baelor wasn't looking, she kicked him. Baelor, patient and forgiving as he was, didn't hold any grudge and actually smiled at Daena, who was momentarily confused, for she'd preferred it if her brother had lost his patience. Daena was so fresh, so wild, so willful... She'd give anything to be like her.

The she-dragon moaned again.

'She's dying,' said Rhaena, as if they didn't already know. 'Mother, can't anything be done for the poor creature?'

'Your uncle did suggest we give her the gift of mercy,' Daenaera said coldly. 'Your father forbade so.'

Daeron glanced warily at the dragon.

'If no one dares approach her, I can do it,' he volunteered. 'Just give me a sword, and she will suffer no more.'

Daenaera laughed, like Daeron had said something funny. Daeron crossed his arms. He was being very serious, why was his mother laughing at him? He had the nerve to accomplish such task. Nobody in the Red Keep doubted his valour. So why did she?

'Oh, sweetling,' she said, ruffling her son's white-blond hair with affection. 'The Gods know I admire your courage — I'd be a fool if I didn't — but this is not a job for a child.'

Daeron frowned, looking very much offended.

'I am ten!' he protested. 'I am not a child, I am almost a man grown. No one is as good as I am in jousting or archery or -'

'I know,' his mother hushed him. 'But you still haven't bloomed yet.'

'Bloom? Mother, I am not some stupid flower - or a girl.'

Daena kicked Daeron.

'Ow! What was that for?'

But Daena didn't honour his question with an answer.

'Mother, will the dragon die?' Elaena asked her mother.

The queen sighed.

'I fear so,' she replied. 'The maesters keep saying how she won't live for long, and once she's gone, dragons will have become extinct.'

Daena kicked the ground made of stone.

'I hate the maesters,' she announced. 'I hate those grey rats!'

'Daena!'

'Well, I do!' she said. 'Them and the septas are always trying to order me around -'

'And righfully so!" Queen Daenaera said sharply. Honestly, her oldest daughter could be so willful at times, it was fustrating. Why couldn't she be a little more like Rhaena?

'I don't like them either!' declared Elaena merrily, more because she wanted to side with Daena no matter what than because she actually despised maesters. She didn't really have a fixed opinion on them, but if Daena misliked them, they had to be awful.

'Hush, Elaena,' Rhaena scolded her. 'The maesters are wise and have such great knowledge, it's disrespectful to talk like that about them.'

Elaena bit her tongue. It wasn't fair. She'd only said what Daena had, and why was Rhaena so eager to defend them anyway? The maesters were to blame for the death of the dragons, according to Daena at least. They and their sorcery had deprived House Targaryen of their most treasured ally, their magnificent fire-breathing beasts.

'And the septas are holy women,' Baelor chirped happily. 'Who are pure and white, clean of all the sins that torment the common men and women -'

Daeron next to him rolled his eyes.

And then, it happened.

The green beast took wing and soared high. The people gathered in the pit watched in awe, as the she-dragon flew higher and higher in the dome of the Dragonpit.

'She can fly!' Daena's eyes had become as big as saucers. 'Mother, look at this! Can I mount her? Do you think I can ride-'

Daena's question was answered immediatelly; as she flew high, toward the great glass dome, the dragon left a cry, and fell, her wings unable to support her weight. She crushed into the stone floor, and stayed still.

Nobody dared break the silence. They all looked at the fallen dragon frozen, unable to move or talk.

And then Elaena began to cry.

Everybody started shouting and yelling, some young children mimicked Elaena and cried, all at once, as brave men ran toward the beast, only to find out that the last dragon, not just in King's Landing but in the whole of Westeros, the last remainder of the glory of House Targaryen, was no more.

The next day, Elaena's father King Aegon ordered the dragon's skull be put in the throne room, to adorn the room, along with all the other skulls of dragons of old. Placed in row according to size, the skull was the first one one would see as they would enter the throne room of the Red Keep in King's Landing. In years to come, Elaena would spend many hours looking with sadness at the skull, and all the other skulls, the ones of Balerion the Black Dread and Vhagar and Meraxes, the dragons that had belonged to Aegon and his wife-sisters, and day-dream about the day that all the dragon eggs that had turned to stone would hatch, and House Targaryen's faded glory would be restored.

A/N: English is not my native language, so please forgive the language.

Second chapter! Writing such young children is quite the ordeal.

Disclaimer: Oh my sweet summer child, if I were GRRM, you think I'd post material here instead of selling them in proper book form to make sweet $$$?

Reviews are always welcome.