The Storm of the Sea. - Aemond . T

--prologue.

An eye for an eye.
•

Dreams of the dragons are certainly a revel. They are a glimpse into the future, a blessing, and a curse. The dreams of Daenys Targaryen saved their House and family from the doom of Valyria, but nothing could save their home. The lone survivors of the doom were the Targaryen dragonlords and seafaring Velaryons.

Regardless, to Lady Seraena Velaryon, dreams were nothing special. They were merely fantasies, and warped ones at that.

Her dreams of late had been of her sailing the seas of the known world with her father manning their ship, and her mother riding her dragon. But whenever her face graced the dreamscape, Seraena awoke. It was a glimpse of reality, as she had no memory of her mother's face. And part of Seraena still felt guilty for it.

Mother died when I was only a baby, there's no way I could remember her face.

The sad songs of bards bear her mother's name, as well as princess Rhaenyra's.

"Aemma, Aelena, and the Mother's Curse.". The somber tale was a nursery rhyme the infant Seraena heard whispered among her septas. Twin sisters who killed their mother at their birth and later died, of the same fate no less. Even now, at the funeral of Lady Laena Velaryon, this curse seems to follow her. Death by one's own child seems to be a common fate in the house of the dragon.

I will never have children. Seraena vowed. She would escape this curse and live her life alone and untamed.

Sadly, everyone must wake up from their dreams eventually, just as all children must grow up.
•

More dreams of a faceless dragonrider, and a never-ending sea. "Seraena! Aunt, please wake up!" The voices of her nieces ended the dream, and Seraena rose with sleepy eyes.

"Rhaena? What is it?" She took notice of the girl's red, swollen eyes. They had been like that all day and grew worse during the service.

"It's my mother's dragon, Vhagar!" Seraena's ears perked up at the ancient name.

"What of the beast?"

"Someone stole her!" Rhaena wailed, despair overcoming the poor child.

"Look, they ride her in the skies outside!" Baela said, comforting her twin with a protective embrace.

Oh. Seraena was the same age as the nieces before her, but she felt obligated to kiss Rhaena's trembling forehead.

"It was supposed to be me. Vhagar was mine to claim." Suddenly, that empty feeling returned to Seraena's heart. The place where she was meant to have grieved for a mother she never knew, it ached at the sight of Rhaena's moonlit tears.

Seraena's blue eyes met Baela's threatening violet, and a nod was shared between the two. "You must wake Jace and Luke," The aunt ordered, a determined aura emitting from her form. "Meet me at the dragon pit."

• •

Aemond Targaryen, the "dragon-less dragon" no longer. The young prince was giddy with his success in claiming Vhagar, the largest dragon in the world. She aided Aemond's ancestors in conquering the Seven Kingdoms, and she would do the same for him.

Yes. He thought, pulling his hood over his wind-tousled locks.
Aemond would prove them all wrong.

• • •

Seraena was stealthy upon walking through the dark path towards the empty nest. She cursed the gods for not bringing a weapon with her.

"Aemond?"

"Seraena?!" The young prince could not hide the shock in his voice when he met the face of Seraena Velaryon. He hated the girl, more than the moon hated the sun for shining so bright. "I'm afraid you are too late if it is the dragon you wish, I got Vhagar first."

Seraena's voice squeaked as it raised in volume. "She was neither of ours to claim; that right belonged to Rhaena, the daughter of Vhagar's rider."

"And her mother is dead. By the same fate as yours too!" Now that had hurt.

The burning feel of her eyes tearing up shrunk back at the sight of her anger, and her vision fogged up. Now, instead of the prince, all Seraena could see were the ones she hated. Nobles who whispered around her. Bards who sang the song of her birth, and of her mother's death. Servants and royals alike have made it abundantly clear—Seraena was cursed.

But the punch she threw at her internal foes only met the face of the one before her. Aemond stumbled back from the force, and his shock turned to outrage. "I will feed you to Vhagar you bitch!"

Seraena fought Aemond like a wildcat, frantic, and speedy. They both earned busted lips, bloody scratches, and black bruises from one another. She ached with defeat, until the arrival of their nieces and nephews. Her hearing was foggy as Aemond spoke, but nonetheless it started another fight. This one was a bloodbath. Four against one seemed unfair, but even the wounded Aemond held his own against them. When the world stopped spinning, Seraena was met with the sight of a frightened Rhaena and Baela, Luke with a dagger in hand, and—

Her first nephew was about to have his head bashed in by a rock, which Aemond held as he loomed over Jace's fallen figure.

Adrenaline took over, and Seraena flew forward. Like a ship against the current.
She grappled with Aemond's arms, restraining them roughly behind his back. Before he could break her nose with the back of his skull, Luke raised his blade.

White noise filled Seraena's pulsing ears, and Aemond's screams became a melodious void. Stumbling back from the pain, the girl went down with him above her. Aemond clutched Seraena's arm and his bleeding eye with an iron grip, and her vision closed around him. Water mixed with wine, staring.

There was only this bleeding boy above her, and this frightened girl below him. As if the sky crumbled around them, stars falling towards the world. The only thing keeping them tethered to it was one another.

Neither heard the clank of the kingsguard's armor, and it took Captain Westerling prying the prince off of her to bring them back to reality.

Her face and clothing were soaked, but it was not with water. Blood. Her mind spoke where her mouth could not. His and mine. Ours, together.