Love Is The Death Of Duty • Aemond Targaryen

13.

Noon comes alive with the sound of laughter and the rhythmic clash of wooden swords upon the grassy clifftop next to Dragonstone castle. The sky stretches endlessly above them, its vibrant blue a striking contrast to the dark grey of the castle's stone walls. The sun's warm embrace bathes the landscape in golden light.

Jacaerys and Lucerys engage in a spirited sparring match, their wooden swords dancing through the air with a swift elegance. Despite the weight of the wooden brace that encases Jacaerys' injured arm, he moves easily. His torso is bandaged, a reminder of the injury he sustained during the incident on the beach. He reluctantly arrived on a Driftmark ship the day before, after being forced to leave Vermax behind with the Seasnake's fleet until he gets well enough to fly again.

On a higher vantage point, Daemon watches them nearby, his arms folded across his chest and eyes sharp.

Now, Jace acts like a training dummy for his younger brother to practice his moves on. He doesn't mind it though, he missed home like crazy and there was a point in the Stepstones when he was certain he'll never see Dragonstone again.

"Lucerys, watch your guard." Daemon's voice occasionally cuts through the sounds of their training, offering advice.

But he seems distracted, almost completely disinterested on babysitting them. Despite his usual vigilant presence, there is a distant gloominess to his expression, a hint of preoccupation that lingers in his thoughts. Jace knows exactly why. When he returned to Dragonstone, Daemon did not ask him anything about Maegor or whatever else went down in the Stepstones, but Jace had a feeling he already knows a lot. The Rogue Prince has spies in a lot of places that act like his ears and eyes.

Lucerys, his swordplay nimble and determined, tries to find an opening, jumping from one foot to another, but everytime, Jace parries one handed.

"How are you ever gonna win if you keep dancing like that, Luke?" His older brother teases him, playfully smacking his shoulder lightly, with the practice sword.

Luke scowls and lunges after him again. The wooden swords clash harder this time as the younger Velaryon tries to put all his strength into the blow. Unfortunately, once again Jacaerys parries even with one good arm and trips his brother, causing him to fall on his back in the grass.

"This isn't about strength, use your head more." Jace drops his wooden sword and extends his hand to his brother to pull him back up on his feet.

"Ugh I think Maegor rubbed off on you. You're starting to sound just like him."

"If it makes you improve, I'll take it as a compliment." Jace ruffles his brother's dark locks as they catch their breath.

The usual comments and observations about their posture and strikes that they expect to hear from Daemon never come.

Instead, when they both turn their heads towards the high ground where he's standing, the Rogue Prince isn't even looking at them. Too lost in thought, fixing his gaze on the horizon with a stern expression on his face. Something changes in the atmosphere, a shift in the air that draws their attention skyward.

With his seasoned perception, Daemon sees it before his step sons do. The dark form becoming larger, flying at a lower altitude and high speed towards them.

"Maegor is returning already?" Jace questions. But Daemon remains silent, his gaze narrows and his features hardening as he assesses the approaching dragon, while making his way next to his step sons instead.