Aella Targaryen wed on the anniversary of her father's death. To her cousin, nonetheless, continuing the long-standing tradition of her family to marry their relatives. It was a day that was meant to bring joy and overshadow the sorrow that had purs...
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I have survived so many fires I can no longer tell if I am alive or if I'm still burning
– Pavana
°•~━━✥❖✥━━~•°
112 AC
Syrax descended towards the ground in a hard dive, so quick that Aemon was sure she would crash into the ground and die, his cousin along with her. Luckily for Rhaenyra, Syrax clearly knew what she was doing, and she quickly spread her wings just before they hit the ground, slowing them down enough that the resonating thud of their impact was the only consequence to their landing.
The Dragonkeepers quickly closed in on the yellow-beast, shouting their usual commands in Valyrian to get her to behave. The she-dragon grumbled, but did as she was told, waiting for a grinning Rhaenyra to slide off of her back before she made her way in the direction of the Dragonpit.
Aemon watched with a wide grin as Rhaenyra ran her glove-covered hand over the scales of Syrax's neck, turning to look at him as if she was in awe. It seemed that no matter how many times she rode Syrax, it still felt like the first time for her. She had told him so on multiple occasions, on those nights when the two of them did not want to sleep and snuck into the Keep's kitchens instead. Nights spent stuffing their face with sweets and gossiping.
He himself did not have a dragon, and so he did not know if his cousin was exaggerating the thrill and euphoria of flying through the sky, but he believed her nonetheless. He dreamt of it many times. The wind through his hair, the rough scales beneath his fingers and nothing but the blue sky and clouds around him.
Leaning against the carriage that was waiting to take him and Rhaenyra back to the Red Keep, he waited patiently for her. Behind him on the steps of the carriage waited the Lady Alicent, the daughter of the Hand and as much of his friend as Rhaenyra was. He knew that she too was smiling at Rhaenyra. Inside the carriage, he could hear the impatient whining of his little sister, asking if their cousin was coming yet.
"Welcome back, princess, I trust your ride was pleasant," Ser Harrold Westerling greeted Rhaenyra as she finally stepped away from Syrax, pulling off her gloves with her teeth. For a moment, Aemon grimaced, knowing full well that dragons reeked despite not having one himself, and the thought of putting a riding glove in his mouth after touching one seemed rather unpleasant. Rhaenyra did not seem to mind though, and instead nodded at Ser Harrold with glee.
"Try not to look too relieved, Ser," she told him, a bounce in her step. Aemon chuckled at her words, watching as Ser Harrold raised a brow up at the Princess.
"I am relieved. Every time that golden beast brings you back unspoilt, saves my head from a spike." Rhaenyra hid her chuckle by looking down at the ground for a moment. Aemon pushed himself off of the carriage when she was close enough, falling into step with her.
