A Dragon's Song

Bonds of Blood and Sky

Naerys looked every bit the dragon rider as she walked beside Aemond to their family dinner, her presence commanding and regal. Her gown shimmered like the scales of Gaelithox, the black fabric hugging her figure with a dangerous elegance. At the shoulders, the dress twisted into shapes resembling the dragon's horns, giving her a fierce silhouette. The slits in the sleeves revealed white fabric underneath, adding a stark contrast that caught the eye. Her hair, a cascade of silver, flowed down her back, unadorned but luminous, as if lit from within.

Aemond walked beside her, his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword, his gaze intense as always. The two had just returned from a long flight together, their dragons cutting through the sky as they surveyed the lands that would soon become a battlefield. The serenity of their shared moments in the air had done little to ease the tension that now gripped them both as they approached the dining hall.

The room was dimly lit, the long table set with simple fare. Alicent sat at the head, her face lined with worry and exhaustion. Aegon slouched in his chair, his expression somewhere between boredom and irritation. The absence of Helaena, who had refused to leave her chambers, hung over the gathering like a shadow, adding to the unease in the room. The family was fractured, and they all felt it.

Aemond and Naerys took their seats, the scrape of chairs against the stone floor the only sound in the room for a moment. Servants moved silently, filling goblets with wine and setting down platters of food, but the atmosphere was heavy with the unspoken words that lingered between them all.

It was Aegon who finally broke the silence, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he said, "So, what glorious news have we today? Has Criston won the war single-handedly?"

Alicent shot him a reproachful look, but Aemond answered calmly, "Criston has taken Duskendale. Rosby and Stokeworth, whose lords had recently repented of their allegiance to Rhaenyra, have joined his cause. The town was sacked, the ships in the harbor set afire."

Aegon grinned, pleased. "Good. Let them see what it means to betray us. Let them know that there's no safety in switching sides."

Naerys, her tone colder than it once would have been, added, "And when do the dragons fight? The true power of our house lies in the skies, not in the sacking of towns. When will we see our enemies burn?"

Aemond turned to her, his gaze steady. "Soon. Criston and I have been planning an attack on Rook's Rest. We expect that Meleys, the Red Queen, will meet us there in battle."

Naerys felt a chill run down her spine at the mention of the fearsome red dragon. Meleys was a formidable opponent, one that even Gaelithox, with all his speed and strength, would struggle against. And then there was Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm, Daemon's dragon—a creature of nightmares, nimble and fierce beyond measure. The thought of them facing such beasts made her stomach churn with a fear she would never admit aloud.

Aegon's brow furrowed as he leaned forward, his voice sharp with accusation. "And when, exactly, were you going to tell me about these plans? Why are you plotting with Cole behind my back?"

Aemond's expression remained impassive, but there was a hint of steel in his voice as he replied, "I am acting in the best interest of the realm. I didn't think you would mind as long as it got results."

Aegon slammed his goblet down on the table, wine sloshing over the edge. "You don't get to decide that! I am the king, not you!"

The room went silent, the tension between the brothers palpable. Naerys watched them both, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to intervene, to calm them both, but she knew better than to step between them when their tempers were high.