ℒove always wakes the dragon (Aemond x OC)

The Wind of Change (part 2)

Three weeks pass by, and early at dawn, Aemond approaches Vhagar, his boots sinking into the sand, his face weary and glum, contoured by the pale sunlight. Recently, each ride has been both a blessing and a torture: he longs for freedom but also fights the urge to fly away and don't come back. Never had he felt as out of place as he is now.

Ever since Rhaenyra took the throne, his life became a dull routine of the same boring days blending into each other. Her reign was to be expected, given that she's been the chosen heir, yet Aemond's expectations of his own future were clearly too high. His mother was the one to get a place at the small council, which came as a surprise to no one, although the nature of her relationship with the Queen was still a mystery to some, and Aemond preferred not to read into it too much. Aegon never cared about the affairs of the Kingdom and gave up his duties with no regrets, his days turning into one big celebration after that. But Aemond was stuck in between as no one could figure out where to place him.

After weeks of languishing, he received an offer that sounded like it was invented out of thin air — the position of the Lord Commander's trusted right-hand man. When he heard of it, he couldn't hold back a huff. Alicent was the one to deliver the news so the prince didn't bother hiding his true feelings.

"And what exactly am I supposed to do? Make sure his cloak stays white? Her generosity is uncanny," Aemond bristled.

"Ser Harrold is a well-trained knight and a man of principles. There is still so much you can learn from him," Alicent's attempts to reason with him were weak and the words seem to crumble in the air, which only added to his anger.

"You think I am in need of learning ?!"

"Aemond, the decision will not be forced on you," she said but what he heard was — "No one wants you on that job anyway" — and it spread the venom of disobedience in him. "I will let you make your own choice," Alicent tried taking his hands in hers, the gesture almost desperate — an offering of comfort, a pleading for compromise — and he wasn't having any of it.

"You let her make a mockery out of me," the prince stormed off the room then, adamant in his fury.

Aemond did consider taking the position simply out of spite, the idea rather entertaining if only it wasn't for the commander in question. Ser Harrold was a good man, indeed, and despite him always being the faithful servant of the Queen ever since she's been of age, he treated Aemond with respect, which gave the prince no reason for derision and left no room for revenge. Which eventually made him feel like there was no room left for him.

He tried to escape the feeling the best he could, his training sessions granting him a chance to pour out the built-up anger, his rides with Vhagar giving him some temporary relief. Yet he's been living his days in a drowsy-like state — half-defeated, half-asleep, half the man that he wanted to be. Whenever he allowed that realization to sink in, he would always feel jealous of Daeron and get the abrupt urge to be somewhere far away, too. But no distance seemed far enough for him to run away from his feelings — or rather the lack of them, while he was eking out his existence.

Caught in a reverie, wrapped in the morning dimness, Aemond is brought back to reality when he notices Vhagar acting strange. Her whole body tenses up, head bending forward as she peers through the clouds. Aemond tries following her gaze, yet there is nothing other than the foggy veil surrounding them. The dragon doesn't let it go, spreading her wings and sliding down the air currents in her mysterious pursuit, and Aemond growls as his hope for a quiet ride dissolves in the air. But the old creature who's never been attentive, much less curious, now strives to focus — it's only fair Aemond does the same. It takes about a minute for him to spot a weird cloud — rough at the edges and glittering; he's momentarily perplexed. Surely, his vision must've failed him because clouds never move with such speed nor do they... roar.

That's when it hits him: it's a dragon.

A white dragon is flying right beneath them — it startles Aemond and draws his attention in an instant, and he commands Vhagar to take pursue. With hard it can usually be to maneuver someone of her size, this time she is unexpectedly obedient. In a few moments they catch up with the unknown dragon, and Aemond sees that it's not untamed — there is a rider in the saddle, their cloak hooded and black, in stark contrast with the alabaster white skin of the beast. Aemond's eye is fixed on them when both dragons come out of the clouds, the clear sky around them is bright blue, the sun is blazing — and the prince is greeted with a mesmerizing sight.

Under the direct rays of light, the dragon shines so vividly, it almost hurts the eye — whiter than snow, his scales dazzle while he's gliding through the air with ease, tight muscles rolling under the shimmering skin. The beast is younger than Vhagar but brims with youthful energy that makes his every move rich with power, with eagerness to speed forward. Aemond is so fascinated by the resplendent creature, he misses the moment when the other rider notices him, too.

The prince feels a gaze on him and snaps out of the trance with a shudder, only then getting a closer look at the other person. Their hood is down, probably blown off by the wind, and Aemond realizes it's a woman. He's able to make out her long hair — the color of autumn leaves, tied into a braid, her face expression hard to read from the distance. For a brief second, Aemond finds himself facing her glare but she is quick to turn away. She puts the hood back on and slightly leans forward, the dragon mirroring her move as his body immediately ducks down. When they take a sudden turn to the right, Aemond sees a patch of bronze green that's spread on the dragon's belly, the rare color mix making it look like a splodge of paint.

Belatedly, it dawns on him that the white beast is headed to the city.

The prince turns after them, alarmed but not threatened enough to start a chase. He thinks maybe her visit is expected and he wasn't notified — yet again, another sign of his irrelevance. Vhagar is hanging in the air as Aemond cautiously watches the other dragon fly away, waiting for the bells to ring or for any other sound to signal that the approaching guests aren't welcome. Yet he is surrounded by silence, briefly interrupted by the distant murmuring of waves chased by the wind.

He should continue his ride but is apprehensive to do so, uneasy feeling swelling in his chest, mixed with anxiety that's akin to excitement.

For the first time in a while, Aemond feels awake.