Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
THE TWINS wove like shadows through the dimly lit halls of the Red Keep, their movements graceful and practiced as if they had been born to navigate the castle's secret passages. The storm outside raged, lightning briefly illuminating the stone walls, followed by the deep rumble of thunder that shook the ground beneath their feet. Yet, neither Daemon nor Eleanor hesitated. The wildness in their eyes mirrored the chaos of the storm, and together they darted through the labyrinth of corridors, avoiding the prying eyes of guards and servants.
Eleanor stifled a small giggle, her silver hair catching the flickering light of a torch as she ducked behind a wall, narrowly avoiding a passing handmaiden. Her heart raced with the thrill of the night, of the danger, but also of the shared secret between her and her brother. She turned to glance at Daemon, whose violet eyes sparkled with mischief. He gave her a small nod, his lips curling into a smirk, and they continued their journey, slipping further into the shadows.
Outside, the storm grew fiercer, the sky lit with jagged streaks of lightning as rain lashed against the windows. Thunder rolled like a dragon's roar, but inside the keep, the twins moved undeterred. Their destination was clear—the Dragonpit. It was a place forbidden to them at this hour, yet that was precisely why they went. The thrill of defying the rules, of testing the boundaries laid before them, was irresistible.
They crept through the final corridor, their steps light and deliberate. The air smelled of damp stone, and the faint echo of their footfalls bounced off the walls. Eleanor's pulse quickened as they neared the great doors that led to the Dragonpit, the place where their dragons slept, the place where they felt most alive.
"Do you think they'll be waiting for us?" Eleanor whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the storm.
Daemon grinned, his hand brushing the hilt of Dark Sister at his side. "They always are."
Eleanor smiled, her excitement bubbling beneath the surface as she reached for the iron door handle. The storm outside intensified as if the gods themselves were watching, but the twins moved as one, pushing the doors open and stepping into the cavernous pit.
The smell of dragons filled the air—musky, powerful, ancient. Eleanor's eyes scanned the darkness, searching for the familiar glow of her dragon's eyes. In the corner, she saw it: Azeas, her stubborn and fierce companion, who lifted his head at the sight of her. In the shadows, Caraxes shifted, his scales glinting red in the faint light.
For a moment, the twins stood still, letting the energy of the storm and the presence of their dragons wash over them. Here, in the heart of the Dragonpit, they were more than just rebellious children sneaking through the night. They were Targaryens, the blood of Old Valyria, heirs to a legacy of fire and blood.
Eleanor turned to Daemon, her breath steadying. "One day, they won't be able to keep us from this," she whispered.
Daemon's smirk widened, his eyes glinting with ambition. "One day, they'll bow to us."
