Led By Fiery Passion (currently being revised)

Part 7

The stars blanketed the sky in a silent, silver hush when the great dragon Vhagar descended from the heavens.

Wings like mountains unfurled and swept the air as she landed with a force that made the very earth quake. Her leathery claws dug into the sand, sending clouds of it spiraling into the cool night. The crashing of the sea behind her became a whisper beneath her power.

Aemond slid down the ladder strapped to her massive side, his palms scraped, heart pounding so hard he thought it might burst. His boots struck the warm sand with a heavy thud, and for a long moment, he didn't move—just stood there, chest rising and falling, as if grounding himself after having touched the divine.

Above them, Vhagar turned her enormous head with something that resembled acknowledgment—then she launched herself into the air once more, vanishing into the starlit dark like a winged shadow of legend.

A sharp cry cut through the quiet.

"Aemond!"

A blur of motion—then Aenyra was running. Her pale skirts tangled at her legs, curls flying behind her like smoke. She threw herself at him without hesitation, and he caught her mid-air, spinning her around in pure, breathless disbelief.

"Did you see that?" he gasped, his words tumbling out like a boy unshackled from silence as he placed her feet back on the ground. "Did you see me?"

Aenyra laughed—a bubbling, disbelieving sound. "I did! I saw everything! I knew you'd do it—I knew it!" She cupped his face in her hands, brushing strands of damp silver hair from his forehead. "Vhagar is yours now. She chose you."

Aemond looked at her as if truly seeing her for the first time. "I couldn't have done it without you," he said, his voice soft—almost reverent. "You were the only one who ever believed in me."

Aenyra couldn't help the smile that spread across her lips, mirroring the joy in his.

Their fingers found each other naturally, his hand slipping into hers as they began to walk, the sand still warm beneath their bare feet. The silence between them wasn't awkward—it was full. Full of things unsaid, of emotions quietly blooming.

She stole a glance at him through the dark. The moonlight wasn't enough to be certain, but she was almost sure his cheeks were the same flushed shade as hers.

She wanted to ask about the kiss—why he did it, what it meant. The question sat on the edge of her tongue. All she knew was that Aemond had always been special to her. But now... now she was beginning to see him as something more than her best friend.

But before she could speak, voices cut through the still night—sharp, angry.

They had reached the edge of the beach, just nearing the stone archway that marked the entrance back to Driftmark's castle grounds.

And they weren't alone anymore.

"It's him!" Rhaena's voice rang sharp with emotion.

Aemond's entire posture shifted. He straightened his back, squared his shoulders, and raised his chin as if donning invisible armor.

"It's me," he said boldly, his voice echoing with newfound confidence.

"You stole Vhagar! She was mine to claim!" Rhaena cried, stepping forward, fury blazing in her tearful eyes.

"Then you should've claimed her when you had the chance," Aemond shot back, his hand tightening around Aenyra's. "No one stopped you."

"She was my mother's dragon!"

"Your mother is dead now," he snapped, his tone crueler than intended. "Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride. That would suit you better!"

"Aemond!" Aenyra hissed, startled at the viciousness in his voice. She knew it came from pain—but still, it struck too deep.