Aelius Targaryen. The daughter of Aemma Arryn and Viserys I Targaryen. A fanfic about her life during the Dance Of The Dragons. Her growing up in the Vale and years later coming back to King's Landing before the Dance Of The Dragons Started.
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"Fair is foul.
Foul is fair."
As Aelius writhed in her slumber, the torment of her mother's cries overwhelmed her senses. The screams resonated deep within, a spectral echo from days gone by.
She recalled herself as a young girl, meandering through the hallways, her mother's wails piercing the silence.
The recollections were sharp and ghostly, compelling Aelius to writhe in her sleep. The reverberations of her mother's agony grew more intense and tangible, as though the past was clawing its way back to envelop her anew.
She revisited the time when she, still a child, quaked with dread as her mother's shrieks engulfed the atmosphere. Each cry struck her heart like a blade, a torturous reenactment of the ordeal.
It was an interminable nightmare, where bygone days and the present fused into a spectral medley of anguish and sorrow.
She flailed and twisted, seeking liberation from the nightmare's clutches, yet the recollections only grew more potent. The lament of her mother's despair blended with her own, forging a symphony of torment that nearly overpowered her.
In Aelius' nightmarish vision, the landscape morphed into a somber, contorted domain, haunted by the enduring ache of bereavement. Shadows cavorted about her, evolving into grotesque silhouettes that murmured in the gloom.
Words of sorrow and despair enveloped her. Terror seized her, tightening its hold on her mind and soul.
Abruptly, Aelius awoke with a start, her eyes snapping open. The nightmare was broken, yet the heaviness of her emotions persisted. She sat up, her heart pounding and her body slick with a cold sweat. The echoes of her mother's screams haunted her, a persistent reminder of the deep loss she had suffered.
Aelius gripped her chest, drawing deep breaths to steady herself. The agony of her memories was vivid and tormenting, as though the past had stretched forth its hand to trouble her anew. She shut her eyes, endeavoring to banish the visions that surged through her thoughts.
In time, Aelius's breathing steadied, though her body continued to quiver. She surveyed the room, seeking to anchor herself in the now. The darkness that had engulfed her dreams dissipated, supplanted by the gentle radiance of a candle nearby.
Yet, even as she found her calm, the recollection of her mother's ordeal stayed imprinted in her being, an enduring symbol of the anguish and grief that had molded her existence. It served as a reminder that, even in the silent stretches of isolation, the reverberations of bygone days could still resonate within her.
