Led By Fiery Passion (currently being revised)

Part 43

Aenyra

A week had passed since Visenya's funeral.

Aenyra awoke to the piercing screech of Syrax echoing through the skies outside her chamber. Her heart skipped—something was wrong. She rushed to the window, eyes narrowing as she caught sight of a ship sailing into the harbor. Its sails bore the unmistakable sigil of the three-headed dragon—Aegon's banner.

She didn't waste another second. Pulling on her boots and quickly dressing, she strapped her sword-spear across her back and darted out of the room.

As she made her way down the cold, winding halls of Dragonstone, she nearly collided with her father storming past her, his expression twisted with fury.

"Father—?" Aenyra called, spinning to look back at him, but Daemon didn't slow. He charged through the doors like a man on a mission.

Rhaenyra entered moments after him, her face unreadable, flanked by Ser Erryk and several of her Queensguard.

"Can someone tell me what's going on?" Aenyra asked, stepping in front of her mother. "I saw one of Aegon's ships—what's it doing here?"

Rhaenyra paused beside her, her voice calm, but the tension in her shoulders betrayed her.
"Aegon sent Otto Hightower... to offer an alliance."

"I'm sorry, he what? Offered what alliance?" Aenyra asked, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. She already knew. Somehow, she knew what her mother was going to say next.

"A marriage betrothal," Rhaenyra replied calmly, "between you and Aemond."

Aenyra swallowed hard, a knot forming deep in her stomach. Her voice caught in her throat before she managed to force out, "What was your answer?"

"We declined," Rhaenyra said without hesitation, her eyes narrowing as she studied her daughter. She stepped in closer, her voice lowering to a sharp whisper only Aenyra could hear. "I know of your... infatuation with him. But let me make myself perfectly clear—you will go nowhere near any member of that family. You are my heir, and as such, you cannot, will not, marry someone who supports the usurper who stole my crown."

Aenyra's composed expression wavered—just for a moment—betraying the shock that gripped her. But just as quickly, she reined it in. She gave her mother a silent bow of acknowledgment, then turned and walked away without another word.

Each step down the hall made her chest feel tighter, the weight of it all pressing in on her like the very walls were trying to crush her. Her breath grew shallow, faster, more desperate. And then—she broke into a run.

Bursting through the doors, Aenyra sprinted toward the beach, the salty wind slapping her face as she reached the shore. She stood there, still, eyes scanning the vast sea, heart pounding in her ears.

Then—an echoing roar shattered the silence. The unmistakable call of Cannibal tore through the sky.

She didn't flinch.

She just stared out, the wind whipping through her braids, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

Aenyra soared high on Cannibal's back, the wind tearing through her hair as the world below blurred. She had no destination in mind—she just needed to fly, to escape. To breathe.

Why is everyone trying to pull us apart?
She gripped tighter to Cannibal's scales. Yes, he messed up. He started that fight with Jace, he said things he shouldn't have... but still. Why does it feel like the universe is set against us?

The rush of air around her didn't silence the chaos in her mind, but it gave her space to feel it without being crushed.

Her gaze drifted across the familiar terrain until it landed on the small island she and Aemond had discovered during one of their dragon flights not so long ago. The sight of it tugged at something deep in her chest.