THE RIVERLANDS
AEMOND
Vhagar felt the intensity of his bloodlust.
The last time their rage intertwined, a boy died.
At the very least the target of his resentment was a grown man who wielded Valyrian steel and rode a formidable dragon of his own.
The playing field was equal.
In the back of his mind a figment of Hira warned him against it, pleaded for Aemond to turn around. He ignored the voice, because it wasn't real. It wasn't her.
Stone Hedge was only a flight away from the capital. The skies turned grey as Vhagar flew over the town, casting a wide shadow. Aemond narrowed his eye, searching for Daemon in the crowd of bystanders who stopped to stare as he soared above.
He spied men of Dragonstone, bearing the red three headed dragon sigil of his half-sister. Riverland Lords and their hosts. But no Caraxes and no Daemon.
The one-eyed prince cursed, his grip on the ropes tightening to their own accord. Fury sprung from his chest and a shout of dracarys left his mouth without a second thought.
Vhagar burned the village first.
If Daemon wasn't here at Stone Hedge, then surely he could tempt his uncle out of the hole he crawled into. He wouldn't leave his allies at the hands of Aemond, not if he wished his soldiers to be ash and bone.
His blood called for death, called for Daemon's name. Seething with the intent to maim and burn everything in his path.
Another dracarys. Another host of soldiers dying on the field. Ill-prepared for the wrath of the prince.
"Come out!" He yelled, "Come out Daemon!"
Show your face. Let me meet death once and for all.
Screams could be heard from below but that wasn't enough to quell the fury. Aemond set his sights on the castle. It lit alight and came tumbling down. Vhagar was hostile with her assault, smothering the entire castle and knocking the foundation to the ground with a swing of her tail. Eventually fields of green turned to dirt and ash. Flames licked the surrounding area.
There were hardly any survivors.
Yet Daemon never came.
The bitter taste of failure was one he was slowly beginning to be well acquainted with.
Hira's ring was cold against his chest.
In the emptiness of his eye socket, her sapphire was scalding, like a hot iron rod bearing down against his skin.
Aemond continued to burn the Riverlands without a single sane thought in his mind.
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DUSKENDALE
HIRA
Sunfyre was as beautiful as he was deadly. With a flap of his wings, the town of Duskendale fell to their knees.
Soldiers bearing Targaryen Green knocked the port walls down, flooding the streets and attacking the people of Duskendale.
Most of their men were with Daemon in the Riverlands or Rhaenyra in Dragonstone, they had little to fend for themselves. Their only hope was Rook's Rest, maybe even Rosby, if Aegon had not already sacked the town as he passed through. But how fast were messenger birds against the might of Aegon's hosts and dragon?
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The Passion of a Thousand Suns | Aemond Targaryen
Fanfiction❛❛ Aemond yearned for her, that much she knew. It was a pity duty held a crown over her head, for Hira would have gladly fallen into his desire. ❜❜ - Hira, known to the Seven Kingdoms as Daemon's bastard daughter. In Leng, a Princess, a daughter of...
