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 IV: Chapter one
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Why do you destroy me without a second thought? I am a person, not food, an object, or something for you to take your anger out on. Do you have no morals? Do you care for no one but yourself? You remained preserved and intact, but I did not. I ruined myself by allowing you to do those things to me, and now I must forever bear the consequences of what you did. I wish I had never let you destroy me again and again. I will watch as you scream and break everything, including me, but I tell myself it's okay, that you don't mean it, because I can't stand to face the truth.
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Aelora walked towards the council room, the weight of Verena's death and the dark promise of her note hanging heavily on her shoulders. Her steps were purposeful, yet each one felt like an eternity as she replayed the events in her mind. Blood stained her clothes, the physical remnants of the violent struggle that had ended Verena's life. Every step seemed to echo the haunting finality of Aelora's choices, a reminder of the heavy burdens she carried.
The council room was filled with the murmur of voices, strategizing and planning the next move in their ongoing war. When Aelora pushed open the heavy doors, the room fell silent, eyes widening in shock at her blood-soaked appearance. Worried glance passed around the room, the gravity of the situation apparent in the tense atmosphere. The silence was deafening, a stark contrast to the raging storm within Aelora.
Daemon Targaryen was the first to speak, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade. "Aelora, what happened?" His tone was demanding, yet a trace of concern lay beneath his stern demeanor.
Aelora's eyes, filled with a fiery determination, met Daemon's. "I want Aemond Targaryen," she declared, her voice steady but seething with anger. "I want the people to pay for what they've done."
The room remained silent, the weight of her words sinking in. Aelora's declaration hung in the air, thick with the promise of retribution. Baela, despite their differences, stepped forward. She placed a comforting hand on Aelora's shoulder, her expression softening with empathy. "We'll get him, Aelora. We'll make them all pay," she said softly.
Aelora looked at Baela, her anger momentarily tempered by the unexpected support. She nodded, feeling a flicker of solidarity in the midst of her grief and rage. The council resumed their discussions, the urgency of their plans heightened by the fresh wave of determination spurred by Aelora's words.
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Hours passed, the intensity of the council's strategy meeting ebbing and flowing with the gravity of their situation. Aelora's mind remained a turbulent sea of emotions, her thoughts continually returning to Verena's final moments and the note she had left behind. The words were etched into her mind, a constant reminder of the heavy burden she now bore.
