twin flames | daemon targaryen

fifty-two

Aemond thought he might throw up. Nausea washed over him in waves, spouting forth from pain, grief, shock, he did not know. Below him, Vhagar flew, groaning and clicking in pain as the Conqueror Dragon bled out onto the forests below, painting the lands of Westeros red with the blood of Old Valyria.

The Targaryen and dragon had escaped the storm, leaving its raging winds and harsh rain behind in the Stormlands as Vhagar flew them to safety. Without the cloud cover, the sun shone brightly from its spot in the heavens, its rays burning into Aemond's eyes and disorienting the Targaryen prince after having spent so long in the dark hurricane above the Stormlands.

How could it all have gone so wrong? Aemond closed his eyes, swallowing back the bile that bubbled up in his throat.

Lucerys was dead. His blood coated Vhagar's scales and Aemond's clothes after it had sprayed out from the Conqueror Dragon's mouth. His Strong body lay within the ancient beast, slowly turning into nothing as the acid in Vhagar's stomach digested the future Lord of the Tides.

Rhaegar was dead. He had to be. Aemond had watched as Vhagar's flames consumed his nephew entirely, like a pig roasting in the fire. There was no surviving it. Aemond swore he could still smell the acrid scent of burning flesh that had wafted into his nose as Rhaegar burned alive before him. Or, perhaps the scent came from Aemond's own wounds.

The Targaryen opened his eyes, letting his purple gaze fall to what remained of his hands. It was a wonder he was still able to hold on to Vhagar's saddle for the prince could hardly feel any sensation in the limbs. The pale skin was blackened and blistered, looking almost like dragon scales rather than human skin. The bile surged forward, and Aemond leaned over and vomited.

Elaena had tried to kill him. She had sat on top of the Cannibal as Visenya came again, her young face screwed into a murderous glare, unforgiving and thirsting for revenge. The Cannibal...The dragon had bested Vhagar in a fight above the skies, had burned the Conquering dragon and pierced her scales with his thick horn without mercy, without hesitation. Aemond finally understood the terror that accompanied the Cannibal everywhere he went.

"Muna, tell us the story of the Cannibal!"

The children of House Targaryen were huddled in Baelon's chambers within Maegor's Holdfast. Candles burned on nearly every available surface in the room, painting the red and black furniture in a golden glow.

Aegon, Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron were tucked under the dark red duvet of Baelon's bed, and Baelon himself squeezed between Helaena and Aemond. Rhaegar and Aemma were down at the foot of the bed, their white golden curls a mess atop their heads from a day spent running and making havoc around the Red Keep. Jacaerys sat curled into Aegon's side, the mop of dark hair on his head a stark contrast to the white hair of the rest of the children, a black sheep in a family of white.

Aemma had been the one who had spoken, staring up at Rhaella with wide, eager eyes. Rhaella smiled softly at her daughter's enthusiasm, her hands resting over the large swell of her stomach as she waddled over to the bed. Daemon followed his wife, his violet eyes adoring as he gazed at Rhaella and the hoard of children begging for her attention.

It was a night they had all shared a thousand times before, coming to be routine for all the children to gather in Baelon's chambers and listen to the tales spun by the Rogue Prince and the Peaceful Princess. Those would be nights that they all would look back on as the best of times before everything changed.

"The Cannibal?" Rhaella repeated with a soft hum, propping herself on the edge of the bed with Daemon's help. The Peaceful Princess was heavy with child just a month or two away from birthing her fourth child. The children of House Targaryen were all so eager to meet the babe, perhaps even more so than Rhaenyra's second child with whom the Heir was currently laboring to birth.