Of Bastards & Dragons || Aenar Targaryen

89 • THE STRANGE WOMAN

"Being a ruler comes with sacrifices." Aenar tells his lover. "So I'm fated to sacrifice you Alicent?"

The Hightower blinks, orbs on the verge of tears, her chains rattling. "Could you go through with it?"

"I...I don't know. Yes, it's a decision, I've made?"

Shakily breath."A-aenar......." Without seeking any orders, Roach stepped forward. Looming over Alicent, his hot breath tossing aurburn hair as if it were nothing more than a gentle breeze.

Yet again, Aenar felt as if he couldn't move, doomed to watch the events as it unfolded. He was surprised at how unphased the woman he loved stood in defeat, a smile upon her face as if death would be a sweet release. Or maybe that was just how Aenar's subconscious was feeling, knowing that the horrendous dream was coming to an end.

"Luckily for you, it might not end up being your choice...... but I'm sorry for hurting you.... forgive me." Those were Alicent's final words before Roach struck, the dragon's mouth consuming the woman in an instant.

To say that he'd already witnessed her die in a more gruesome fate, it didn't make the experience any easier. But the shock seemed to bring him back to reality, casting him out of his nightmare the coldness of the castle once again brushing against his cheeks as if it had never left. And gasped for air, panting, sweat puddled on his temples.

"Fuck! What a nightmare." He hissed, his throat dry and parched. He looked around the chamber to realize he was in Harrenhal's, where he could last remember being, though he hadn't realised just how tired he'd been.

Groaning in frustration, he yanked the duvet off his body and stood up, his upper region bare naked. He stretched his body and went to pour himself a cup of wine. Gulping down the liquid, he sighs, terrified by the dream he just had, of him killing Alicent Hightower. Perhaps avoiding Daemon so ardently had finally taken its toll.

Sighing he wore his shirt. Suddenly the doors of the chamber he was assigned to, were gently opened. "You're a peculiar person. Your Grace." The woman began in a shrill soft tone, yet eerie.

For a second, Aenar feared that Alicent would be standing there yet again and that the nightmare was still going on.

But, as he snapped his weary head to attention, he discovered that his companion was different this time around.

The strange woman he'd only briefly seen upon arrival at the castle was standing in the room, her black hair and the moonlight making her skin appear even paler than it was. There was every chance, given her spectral appearance, that Aenar was dealing with yet another ghost.

"Who are you?"

"Has your brother, not told you about me? I shouldn't see that as a surprise, in truth. He's too ashamed, I'd imagine. Too ashamed to acknowledge what I've shown him."

Aenar stood up, finally having enough of the games she'd been subjected to. If the other woman was intimidated by the sudden display of force, then he didn't show it. She didn't bother to move away once Aenar was standing right in front of her, seemingly enjoying the performance she was being subjected to. It only added to the King's anger, and he feared that he couldn't be held accountable for his actions in his beleaguered state.