A Dragon's Song

Wings of Duty

The castle was restless, with the hum of war preparations filling the air. Aemond and Criston Cole had been meeting with the council from dawn until dusk, plotting their next move. Harrenhal was the prize now—Daemon's hold on the Riverlands had to be severed. Aemond's plan was daring, an attack from both the east and west. Jason Lannister's forces would press from the west, while Aemond and Cole would lead the charge from the east.

In the courtyard, Naerys sat by the ancient Weirwood tree, her fingers moving lightly over the strings of a harp, playing a melody filled with sorrow. The soft notes carried through the stillness, a quiet contrast to the storm brewing within the Red Keep. She knew Aemond was preparing to leave soon. The thought of him flying off into battle sent an ache through her chest.

She hadn't noticed Queen Alicent approaching until she heard the soft rustle of her skirts. Naerys looked up as Alicent stepped beside her, her expression tense but motherly.

Alicent spoke softly, her eyes focused on Naerys. "You play beautifully, my dear. Though I sense there is much on your mind."

Naerys paused, her hands resting on the harp strings. "I fear for what's to come, Your Grace. Harrenhal... it's a dangerous place. I know Aemond feels he must go."

Alicent sighed deeply, kneeling down to meet Naerys at eye level. "He listens to you, Naerys. More than he listens to anyone. You must dissuade him from this. Harrenhal cannot be taken without great cost. He needs to wait until Sunfyre has healed, or at least until Tessarion can join him from the south."

The words struck Naerys like a blow, amplifying the fear and dread she had been feeling for days. She closed her eyes for a moment, struggling to steady her breath. The truth was, she had already tried to persuade him, more than once.

"I wish I could dissuade him, Your Grace," Naerys whispered, her voice trembling with frustration. "But Aemond... he is set on this. His mind is full of Daemon, of vengeance. He believes the only way to truly break Rhaenyra is by destroying her strongest ally."

Alicent's face softened with worry, and she reached out, resting her hand on Naerys' shoulder. "You must try again. If he rides out now, without the full strength of our dragons, he could be walking into a trap. Daemon is cunning... he may already be anticipating this."

Naerys could feel the weight of those words. Daemon had always been the shadow in Aemond's mind, a rivalry that had festered for too long. Naerys knew that her husband's confidence was unshakeable, and yet the thought of him facing Daemon at Harrenhal, possibly without enough strength, made her chest tighten.

She placed the harp aside, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "I will try again. But I fear he is already too far gone in his determination. Aemond is not easily swayed when his mind is set."

Alicent's gaze turned to the Weirwood tree, her eyes distant as if searching for wisdom in the ancient branches. "I worry for him, Naerys. And for you. The weight of this war is crushing us all, but you—you and your dragon—are pivotal to the realm. You must not only think of Aemond but of yourself as well. If the worst were to happen, the safety of the city would rest on your shoulders."

Naerys nodded, her heart heavy. "I know, I feel the weight of it every day. But I cannot abandon him. I cannot let him ride into battle alone."

Alicent stood, her hand lingering on Naerys' shoulder for a moment longer before she withdrew. "Then may the gods guide you both."

As Alicent walked away, Naerys felt a tear slip down her cheek. She wiped it quickly, feeling the coldness of the stone beneath her. The melody of her harp echoed faintly in her mind, but now it seemed more like a dirge—a song for what might be lost.