𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓣𝓱𝓲𝓻𝓭 𝓢𝓸𝓷

Chapter 36

Rhaenyra, Aegon, and Vaerla made their way back to the castle, the air still buzzing with the excitement of the day's events. Vaerla walked with newfound confidence, her steps lighter, and her face alight with pride.

Aegon couldn't help but steal glances at his daughter, feeling a deep sense of accomplishment as he watched her chatter excitedly about the bond she had forged with Vermithor.

Rhaenyra, walking beside Aegon, could see the contentment on his face. It was a rare moment when Aegon seemed truly at peace, and Rhaenyra was determined to seize the opportunity to deepen their connection. As they entered the castle's grand hall, she turned to Aegon with a warm smile.

"Aegon, we must celebrate Vaerla's success," Rhaenyra suggested, her tone light but her intent clear. "How about a private dinner? Just the three of us, to mark this important day."

Aegon considered her offer for a moment, then nodded. "I think that's a wonderful idea. Vaerla, what do you say? Shall we have a special dinner to celebrate your new bond with Vermithor?"

Vaerla beamed, nodding eagerly. "Yes! I can't wait to tell you both more about it!"

With the decision made, the servants were quickly instructed to prepare an intimate dinner in one of the castle's smaller, more private dining rooms.

The room was softly lit with candles, their warm glow casting a golden hue over the dark wood paneling and rich tapestries that adorned the walls. The table was set with the finest silverware, and a feast fit for royalty was laid out before them.

As they sat down, Vaerla wasted no time in diving into her food, her excitement bubbling over as she recounted every detail of her encounter with Vermithor. Aegon listened attentively, his gaze often drifting to Rhaenyra, who was quietly observing them both, a thoughtful expression on her face.

Once Vaerla had finished her story and was thoroughly engrossed in her meal, Rhaenyra saw her chance. She turned to Aegon, her voice soft but sincere. "Uncle, today was a reminder of what it means to be a Targaryen—the strength of our blood, the bond with our dragons, and the legacy we carry."

Aegon nodded, his expression contemplative. "It is a heavy burden, but one I bear with pride."

"And you bear it so well," Rhaenyra continued, her eyes locking onto his. "You have proven yourself time and time again—your strength, your leadership, your unwavering sense of duty to our house. These are qualities not just of a great man, but of a great king."

Aegon's gaze softened, recognizing the admiration in Rhaenyra's voice. "You flatter me, Rhaenyra, but I do what is necessary for our family and our people."

"And that is why you will need someone strong by your side," Rhaenyra pressed gently, her voice dropping to an intimate tone. "Someone who understands the weight of the crown and shares your bloodline—a queen worthy of your reign."

Aegon felt the shift in the conversation, understanding Rhaenyra's intention. She was making a case for herself, subtly but unmistakably. There was a logic to her words that he couldn't deny, but he also knew that Rhaenyra's ambitions were more than just about unity—they were personal.

"Rhaenyra..." Aegon began, his voice trailing off as he met her gaze. He could see the earnestness in her eyes, the hope that flickered just beneath the surface. He reached out and took her hand, his touch gentle as he lifted it to his lips and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles.

Rhaenyra's heart skipped a beat, her breath catching as she watched Aegon's lips brush against her skin. The gesture was brief, but it spoke volumes—an acknowledgment of her words and perhaps, a silent promise of more to come.