twin flames | daemon targaryen

forty-seven

The roars and shrieks of dragons at war echoed in the sky above Blackwater Bay. The six dragons of the Reds raced across the waters towards where the island of Driftmark loomed in the distance. Their heavy wingbeats sounded like thunder in the early morning sky. Their massive scaled bodies flew close to the waters, sea salt spraying up and soaking the Targaryen riders who hardly noticed in their haste to get to where the rest of their family resided.

Gaelith led the dragons across the bay, her hulking black figure promising terror in her wake as her guttural roars and war cries spread far past the shores along Blackwater Bay, reaching the settlements of Duskendale and even as far as Maidenpool. The smallfolk halted in their movements at the threatening, echoing cries, turning to look up towards the early morning sky. They could see the faint figures of the dragons in the distance, and they all knew in their hearts that something was wrong, that something had happened, but they didn't know what.

By the day's end, word of all that had happened in King's Landing would travel across Westeros, and the smallfolk's fears would prove true. A new era of Targaryen rule had begun, and with it loomed the threat of war.

The dragons of the Reds suddenly dove down and landed on the dunes of the island of Driftmark, causing large plumes of sand to shoot up toward the sky around them. At their landing, the other dragons roaming the dunes crawled over to join the newcomers. Darksmoke, Valyx, Seasmoke, and Morning let out shrieks and clicks in greeting, sensing the fury and fear of Gaelith and the others.

A great, guttural roar sounded, and all the dragons and their riders on the dunes turned to see the Cannibal watching them from a distance, the dragon's jaws soaked with the blood of the sheep that made his latest meal. His green eyes zeroed in on the members of his rider's family, his pitch-black scales beginning to vibrate as he prepared himself for whatever fight was to come upon the shores of his new home.

The Cannibal's call caused all the dragons on Driftmark to click and shriek agitatedly, the sounds echoing and causing the inhabitants of Spice Town and Hull on the other side of the island to run into their homes and take cover in fear. Then Gaelith stamped her feet in the sand and roared fiercely, and all the dragons fell silent.

Rhaella looked across the dunes, taking in the sight of her family and the dragons they claimed as their own. Her eyes were drawn towards where Caraxes stood. The Blood Wyrm's neck twisted and turned as the dragon's yellow eyes remained fixated on Gaelith's form as though assuring himself that his mate was unharmed from whatever horrors they had experienced in King's Landing. Rhaella looked up toward Caraxes's rider, and she found Daemon mirroring his dragon's actions.

Amethyst met violet, and the world faded away until only their twin flames burned in the nothingness.

Rhaella and Daemon dismounted their dragons as though they were puppets on strings, their bodies moving of their own accord as they stared at each other, their attention unmoving from their other half. Their feet sunk into the sands of Driftmark, but their speed did not slow as they raced towards each other, their hearts pounding in their chests, their blood roaring in their ears.

They met in the middle, colliding harshly as their arms wrapped tight around each other. Daemon's hand flew up to hold Rhaella's head, cradling her against him as he pressed his cheek firmly against the crown of her head. Rhaella buried her head in his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as she took in his scent, his presence, his love.

"Daemon," Rhaella murmured, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Rhaella, my love," Daemon replied, his voice shaky as he closed his eyes and took in the feeling of having her in his arms once more. Tears welled in Rhaella's eyes at the sound of his voice, and they quickly began to fall, streaking down her face.