Aelora Targaryen, known as "The Golden Child," was born of secrets and trained as a hidden weapon. Raised amidst prophecies and held back by her family's ambition, fire, and blood, she lived a life shrouded in mystery. Across the realm, Benjicot Bla...
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ACT III: Chapter two
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Death, by its very nature, is an impossible chase; it takes whom it pleases when it pleases. Life, too, presents its own relentless pursuit, filled with uncertainties about what ultimately claims us. Both life and death stand as the ultimate sacrifices, the ultimate chase.
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"Dracarys, Vermax!" Jacaerys yelled, his voice echoing through the skies as he commanded his dragon. The air was filled with the roar of dragonfire, a sound both terrifying and magnificent. Aelora watched from the distance, her heart heavy with a mixture of dread and sorrow. As Jacaerys and Vermax soared majestically through the sky, Aelora's mind was clouded with visions—horrific premonitions that twisted her insides with fear.
In an instant, she saw it: an arrow slicing through the air, striking Jacaerys and Vermax. The vision unfolded in slow motion, a cruel trick of fate as the arrow pierced their forms. Within moments, they vanished into a dark abyss, swallowed by the unforgiving void. Aelora's breath caught in her throat, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. The pain of the vision was unbearable, a reminder of the relentless brutality of the war.
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Aelora was in the silence of her cell, hope felt nonexistent. Aelora's mind was a whirlwind of fear and regret. Would this be how she spent her last days, worrying about whether her family thought she had truly betrayed them? The uncertainty gnawed at her, a relentless torment. She tried to convince herself that she hadn't turned against her blood, that she was playing a role to protect them all. But doubt lingered, whispering insidiously in the darkness.
She heard footsteps approaching, and the door to her cell creaked open. Larys Strong stepped inside, his eyes gleaming with curiosity and malice.
"Princess Aelora," Larys said smoothly, "I hope you are finding your accommodations... adequate."
Aelora glared at him. "What do you want, Larys?"
He smiled with a sinister expression. "Just a few questions, my dear. Perhaps some riddles to pass the time. Where do you stand in this war, truly?"
Aelora's eyes narrowed. "You know where I stand, Larys. I'm a spy, just like you. The only difference is I don't betray or even kill my own blood but I make sure it looks like it, I have everyone fooled, even myself."
Larys chuckled softly. "Quite the clever response. But loyalty is a fickle thing, wouldn't you agree?"
"Not to me," Aelora replied coldly her eyes piercing through him.
