Eye of The Dragon, Aemond Targaryen

𝟐𝟑

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𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐡.

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𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃. A gloomy light had been casted upon the castle of Dragonstone. Its people hid in their chambers, mourning their loss. Their cries could be heard late at night. Half of them were guards and Knights who were readying up to go to war for their Queen. The other half were questioning their alliance. Now that Queen Rhaenyra is dead, they have no Queen to fight for anymore.

It was early in the morning and Princess Aelora stood in front of the window, watching over the endless sea. She fiddled with her rings, anxious for today. The young Princess felt exhausted, and it didn't help that her brothers weren't here to comfort her. Jacaerys was on his way to the north, while Lucerys was making his way to Storm's End - both not knowing about the death of their mother.

Rhaenyra's death was still fresh in their memories, since it only happened two days ago. Aemond rose from the bed and walked up behind Aelora. His hands slipped under her arms to rest on her stomach. He placed his head on her shoulder as he offered her a small kiss on her neck. "Tell me what you are thinking about." Aelora raised her hand and placed it on Aemond's cheek behind her. "Everything," she muttered.

He pulled his hands back before placing hers in his. He guided her to the bed with him, slowly. He sat the Princess down next to him. Aelora felt like a broken shell, but Aemond still recognized the woman underneath. Aelora hid her face in her hands as she rested her elbows on her knees. "I cannot do this, Aemond." The Princess came back up, her eyes red from crying. "All my thoughts are consumed with only one thing, burning them down. But it will be at the cost of innocents, and I do not want that."

But Aemond shook his head at her words. He'd get revenge on his family one way or another, but it needed to be by her command. He'd fly to King's Landing right now if he could, but she needed him more. They'd burn them down together, that was his promise to her. He'll get justice for his half-sister - for Aelora.

"What are we born from, Aelora?" The Princess furrowed her brows, her mind going blank in response. He tilted her head his way, "Tell me." Aelora knew them, she reminded herself of those words everyday. But they were useless to her now. She sighed, making eye contact with her husband. "Fire and Blood."

The Prince nodded. "And what is our sigil?" Aelora didn't know to where he was going with this, and she wasn't in the mood for silly word games. "Aemond, I am not in the mood for a guessing game," she pleaded. But Aemond simply smiled at her. "What is it, love?"

Aelora's eyes crossed the floor and then Aemond's again. "A three-headed dragon." Aemond nudged at her to continue. "A three-headed dragon breathing flames." He kissed the top of her hand as reward. "And what is your father? Your brothers? Me? And you?"

A certain fire got ignited in Aelora's veins as she carefully listened to her husband's words. He knew what he was doing, and she quickly figured it out herself. "Dragons," she finally said.

"We are dragons, Aelora. You are a dragon, be a dragon." Aemond held her hands as he kneeled down in front of her. "You are Aelora Targaryen, first of your name, heir to the Iron Throne. You are the daughter of the Black Queen and the Rogue Prince. The rider of Vermithor, the most fearless dragon in all of Westeros. But most importantly, you are my wife. The reason why I breathe, the woman I have surrendered my heart to."

Aelora slid off the bed and kneeled in front of Aemond, tears stinging in her eyes. She cupped his face, "they will know our names." Their foreheads touched, and once again they became one. The Princess' anguish washed slowly, but surely away. A feeling of aggravation taking its place. She was done wallowing, it wouldn't bring her mother and sister back. "They will fear them, love."

The people of Dragonstone had come together for the funeral of their Queen. Aelora stood in front of the pyre that they had built for Rhaenyra with Aemond close behind her. Little Joffrey held Aelora's hand tightly, as if someone would take her away from him at any given moment. His little sniffles filled the ears of everyone around him. Daemon stood next to the little Prince, his jawline clenched as he watched his wife and unborn daughter.

Little Visenya laid next to her mother, both wrapped in white. They had cut the babe out of Rhaenyra to give her a proper Targaryen burial.

Everyone looked at Aelora, waiting for her to say the words. Vermithor waited patiently for his command. But Aelora couldn't do it. This was her mother. The woman who had birthed her, loved her, protected her - and when it was Aelora's turn to protect Rhaenyra, she failed. It was a feeling she wasn't sure she could live with.

"Pōnta're umbagon syt ao, jorrāelagon." (they're waiting for you, love) Aemond whispered from behind her. He snuck next to her and intertwined his fingers with hers. Aelora let her head fall down, a tear falling on the cold grass. "Issa prūmia iksos ōdrikagon," (my heart is hurt) she answered.

She inhaled and exhaled before turning to her beast. Her lips trembled as the words laid ready on her tongue, ready to be spoken into the world. Doing this was making it real. She would say goodbye to her mother and sister, forever. She turned to Daemon, whose eyes were emotionless. But when he turned to his daughter, she saw it. A glimpse of sadness, hidden by his mask of fury. His nod gave Aelora the push she needed. She opened her mouth to speak the words, "dracarys."

Vermithor's mouth opened as the fire broke free from his throat. The flames immolated the bodies in seconds. Aelora's eyes closed as she heard the fire crackling in front of her. When she opened them again, she saw their bodies had changed into ashes.

Hours had passed. Hours of strategizing, planning and organizing. For Aelora it was quite simple, she would take Vermithor right now and go burn them all down. But doing that would put them in jeopardy. She wasn't risking the lives of the people here at Dragonstone, or the innocents in King's Landing. They had advised her to come up with a plan first. It's what Rhaenyra would have wanted, and Aelora wanted to honor her mother's decision.

"Princess," Ser Erryk spoke. Aelora got pulled out of her thoughts as her eyes instantly shifted to the painted table in front of her. "What are your thoughts?" Aelora massaged her temple as she tried to catch up. "I wasn't paying attention, my apologies." She could hear a few sighs in the room, but she ignored every single one of them. She looked around, her father nowhere to be seen. Aelora turned to Baela next to her, "where is father?" Baela answered, "he's with Aegon and Viserys."

Daemon had almost spent the entire afternoon with his sons. They were both the spitting image of their mother, and that offered him comfort. In truth, he was deathly afraid of losing his daughters and sons. He lived for them, and he would die protecting them.

Rhaena walked into the room, straight to Aelora. "Grandsire has arrived." Aelora stood up from the chair and straightened her dress. "Let's welcome him, then."

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