Daenerys had ridden out at first light.
With her went Ser Jorah and Ser Barristan, a small escort of Unsullied at their backs. The talk in the camp was that she sought sellswords, men who fought for coin, men who might be turned to her cause before Yunkai chose war.
She had not taken Rhaego with her.
The camp felt… slower without her.
Not quiet, never quiet. Horses stamped, men laughed, fires crackled but the center of it all felt hollow, like something important had stepped away.
Rhaego did not like it.
He sat near the entrance of the queen's tent, legs sprawled, tail flicking against the ground in uneven thumps.
"I'm bored," he announced.
No one answered. An Unsullied stood nearby, still as stone.
Rhaego narrowed his eyes at him.
"…Do you guys know a joke at least?." The Unsullied did not react.
Rhaego huffed and flopped onto his back, staring up at the sky. A small spark of blue flame popped from his mouth.
Then another.
Then—
"Rhaego."
He froze. Slowly, he turned his head.
Missandei stood just behind him, hands clasped, watching with that soft, knowing look she always had.
"…What?" he said, a little defensive.
Missandei stepped closer, lowering herself gracefully to sit beside him.
"Your mother said not to play with fire inside the tent," she reminded gently.
"I'm not playing," he said quickly.
A pause.
"…I'm practicing?"
Missandei raised a brow. "Oh?"
Rhaego pushed himself up, brushing dust from his legs like it offended him.
"I can make it smaller now," he said, a hint of pride slipping in. "Look."
Before she could answer, he inhaled and let out the tiniest flicker of blue flame.
It barely lasted a second and it barely reached past his lips.
But it was controlled. He looked at her immediately.
"…See?"
Missandei blinked. Then smiled. A real one this time soft and warm. "I saw," she said.
Rhaego's tail gave a small, pleased flick.
"…Mother didn't see that one," he added, quieter.
"No," Missandei said. "But I will remember it."
That seemed to matter. He sat down again, a little closer to her now without realizing it. For a moment, they just watched the camp together.
Rhaego picked at a loose thread on his sleeve.
"…Do you think she'll be long?" he asked.
Missandei glanced toward the horizon. "I do not think so," she said gently.
He nodded, but didn't look convinced.
Another small silence.
Then—
"Can you tell a story?"
Missandei looked at him. "A story?"
He nodded quickly. "Yeah. A good one."
"What kind of story?"
Rhaego thought about it. "…Dragons," he decided.
Missandei's lips curved faintly. "There are many stories about dragons."
"Tell the best one," he said, scooting closer, wings shifting slightly behind him.
Missandei adjusted her seat, folding her hands loosely in her lap. "Very well," she said softly.
"There was once a dragon who did not wish to burn anything."
Rhaego blinked. "…That's dumb."
Missandei gave him a look.
He shrank a little. "…Okay, not dumb. Just… weird."
She continued anyway. "He was small," she said, "and the other dragons were bigger, louder. They burned cities. They flew high."
Rhaego leaned his chin on his knees. "…What did he do?"
"He stayed close to the ground," she said. "He watched people instead."
"Why?"
Missandei glanced at him. "Because he was curious."
Rhaego hummed softly. "That makes sense."
A small smile touched her lips.
"One day," she continued, "people saw him. And they were afraid."
Rhaego's tail stilled. "…Did they try to kill him?"
Missandei shook her head. "No," she said. "They ran."
He frowned. "That's worse."
Missandei didn't disagree. "So the dragon learned something," she said. "He learned that even if he did nothing… people would still fear him."
Rhaego was quiet now. "…That's not fair," he muttered.
"No," she said gently. "It is not."
He picked at the dirt beside him, drawing small lines without thinking.
"…What happened to him?"
Missandei watched his hand for a moment before answering.
"He had a choice," she said. "He could become what they feared… or he could choose something else."
Rhaego looked up at her. "…What did he pick?"
Missandei smiled softly. "That part," she said, "is still being written."
Rhaego stared at her for a second.
Then—
"…That's not a real ending."
"It is the best kind," she said.
He squinted at her. "…You just didn't finish it."
Missandei laughed quietly. "Perhaps."
Rhaego huffed… but a small grin tugged at his mouth.
After a moment, he leaned sideways just a little until his shoulder bumped against her arm.
He didn't move away.
"…When Mother comes back," he said, quieter now, "I'm gonna show her the small fire. Not the big one."
Missandei nodded. "I think she would like that."
He nodded too.
Then, after a beat—
"…You'll still be here later?"
Missandei looked at him. At the small horns. The silver hair. The child was trying very hard not to sound like he cared too much.
"Yes," she said softly.
"I will."
Rhaego relaxed at that. His tail curled loosely around his leg.
And for a little while, he stopped trying to prove anything at all. For a time, neither of them spoke.
The camp moved around them in its usual rhythm, men shouting over cookfires, horses stamping, the distant ring of steel where some Dothraki tested their blades. Life went on, loud and restless.
But here, beside the tent, it felt… slower.
Missandei shifted slightly, adjusting the folds of her dress as Rhaego leaned more fully against her arm without thinking. His wings settled, folding close to his back. The restless flick of his tail stilled.
She glanced down at him.
His eyes were half-lidded now, not quite asleep, not quite awake.
"Are you tired?" she asked softly.
"No," he mumbled.
A pause.
"…maybe a little."
Missandei smiled faintly.
Carefully, she reached out and brushed a stray strand of silver hair from his face. He didn't pull away this time.
"You may rest," she said. "Your mother will not be gone forever."
Rhaego made a small sound, something between agreement and protest. "…I know," he muttered. "I just don't like it."
Dany is still so young… Carrying heavy responsibilities being young in this world is probably exhausting. He thought quietly.
Missandei did not answer right away.
Instead, she let her hand remain where it was, light and steady against his hair.
"I did not like it either," she said after a moment. "When those I cared for were taken from me, even for a short while."
Rhaego's eye cracked open slightly.
"…Who?" he asked.
Missandei's gaze drifted, just for a heartbeat. "My brothers," she said quietly.
Rhaego blinked. Fully awake now, just a little.
"…You had brothers?"
"Yes."
"…Where are they?"
Missandei hesitated. Then, gently—
"They were taken for training… I never saw them again."
Rhaego frowned. That answer didn't sit right with him. Not at all.
"…That's stupid," he said.
Missandei huffed a soft laugh. "It is."
He shifted, sitting up just enough to look at her properly.
"…We'll find them," he said, like it was obvious. Like it was simple.
Missandei looked at him. At the certainty in his face. At the child who did not yet understand how large the world was… or how cruel.
But she smiled anyway. "Perhaps," she said.
Rhaego nodded, satisfied.
Then, after a moment—
"…And if they're dead," he added, frowning harder, "then I'll burn the people who did it."
Missandei blinked. Then laughed quietly, surprising, and real.
"Let us hope it does not come to that," she said gently.
Rhaego huffed, but didn't argue. After a moment, he leaned back against her again. And this time, when his eyes closed.
They stayed closed.