The Realms Rose | Aemond Targaryen / Daemon Targaryen

XLVII

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As Vhagar soared over Harrenhal, the imposing ruins came into view. The once-great castle of Harren the Black was a stark reminder of the devastation of the past. Aemond's eye scanned the surroundings, taking in the abandoned and damaged structures that were now home to ravens and other scavenging birds.

Aemond glided over the landscape, the wind whistling past him as he rode on Vhagar's back. His thoughts were awhirl as he made his way to the castle, his heart heavy with anticipation.

He finally arrived at the imposing castle, landing smoothly. Taking a deep breath, he dismounted, his gaze sweeping around the grounds as he made his way towards the entrance.

The castle ruins were eerily silent as Aemond made his way, his footsteps the only sound echoing across the courtyard. The stones were blackened and cracked, the walls crumbling and decrepit. Harrenhal was a sad reminder of the wars that had ravaged Westeros, a once-mighty fortress now reduced to a shadow of its former glory.

As Aemond entered the castle grounds, he couldn't help but feel a sense of melancholy and foreboding. The air was thick with the weight of history and the ghosts of those who had once called it home.

Aemond's head snapped up at the sound of footsteps. He scanned the surroundings, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of his sword.

He called out into the quiet, his voice firm. "Who goes there? Show yourself."

There was a long moment of silence, the only sound being the soft rustling of leaves. Aemond's eyes darted around the courtyard, searching for any movement.

Then, a figure slowly emerged from behind one of the crumbling walls.

As the person stepped into the light, Aemond could make out a curvaceous form, with long dark hair and a sullen expression. The young woman stopped a few feet away from him, her eyes flickering with a mix of curiosity and wariness.

"Who are you?" Aemond asked again, his hand still on the hilt of his sword.

The young woman didn't respond immediately. She regarded Aemond with caution, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides.

Finally, she spoke, her voice laced with more than a hint of distrust. "Why are you here?" She asked.

Aemond could sense her defensiveness, her suspicion palpable in the air. "I come seeking answers." He answered cryptically, his own voice measured and guarded.

He took a step closer, his eyes locked on hers. "And you? Do you call this ruin home?"

She regarded him through narrowed eyes, her expression guarded. She was a beautiful woman, with strong, angular features and long dark hair that fell in waves around her shoulders. Despite her sullen demeanor, there was an air of mystery and allure about her.

"Some do." She said cryptically, her eyes flickering to the ruins around them. "But most don't last long here. Harrenhal consumes all who inhabit it."

Aemond's gaze hardened, a flicker of annoyance passing over his face at her evasive answer. "Enough with the riddles." He said, his tone sharpening. "Who are you?"

The woman merely tilted her head, a faint hint of a smile playing at the corner of her lips. "Patience, my Prince." She drawled, her voice like silk. "All answers come in time."