บท 7: 'Promises'

| Author's Note: Next chapter Aenys and Daemon might meet. How will that go down?

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"Look here, my son,— this is Vhagar, my dragon. I know you don't have one of your own yet, but perhaps, someday, she might just choose to be yours. And remember, a dragon is a gift earned, not given."

— Baelon Targaryen.

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| 105AC - Above the crownlands, late at night - With Aenys Targaryen and Rhaenyra Targaryen:

A roar, deep and resonant, shattered the stillness of the Crownlands' skies, coming from above, where grey clouds churned and rumbled like an oncoming storm.

From them, a golden blur plunged downward, streaking past the treetops with grace. The small dragon, Syrax, moved quick and nimble, her shining scales glinting like molten gold in the dim light of the moon.

Hot on her trail came another roar, this one guttural and savage, carrying a primal weight that reverberated through the air. The sound belonged to a larger dragon,— a beast darker than night itself.

Cannibal soared after his kin with unrelenting ferocity, his enormous wings slicing through the night sky like blades, his glowing green orbs burning with a predatory focus, locked onto the smaller dragon ahead. And just like that, the two dragons skimmed perilously low now, their vast wings occasionally grazing the tops of the trees below, sending leaves and branches cascading to the forest floor.

The sheer power of their movements capable of rustling the canopy, shaking loose birds and filling the air with a cascade of startled animalistic cries of the prey below.

Seated astride their respective mounts were their riders, Aenys and Rhaenyra, both clad in the regal confidence of Targaryens born to rule the skies. Laughter spilled from their lips, bright and unrestrained, carried away by the wind as their game of pursuit played out.

Rhaenyra clung to Syrax's saddle, her lilac eyes alight with exhilaration, while Aenys simply leaned forward on his, his face lit with a rare, unguarded grin as he urged the great beast onward without a care in the world.

He could not recall a time in his life when he had flown side by side with a member of his family, since when he claimed Cannibal he was long gone from Westeros, and as such, his flights had always been solitary ventures,— just him and Cannibal, carving through the skies above Old-Valyria, Essos or beyond what was known as reality itself,— training, evading, and fighting his way through trials that were crafted by the gods themselves.

It was safe to say that since he had left the ruined planes of his ancestors but a few weeks back, that the air itself was his battlefield, his sanctuary, and his stage. Yet tonight was different, for despite the tension that had gripped him earlier, the weight of long-buried memories and unspoken regrets, he found himself,— strangely, and unexpectedly,— enjoying this rare moment of shared freedom.

"There!" Aenys shouted over the rushing wind, his voice cutting through the loud sound of Cannibal's wings. He pointed toward a sprawling beach that suddenly stretched out below them, the dark sand glinting faintly under the moonlight.

The beach was bordered by the dense forest they had been flying over, and beyond it, the vast ocean rolled on into an endless horizon, making it a place of peace and isolation, a perfect haven to land without the fear of danger or the interruption of the unwanted.

Rhaenyra seemed to catch his meaning almost instantly, as with an effortless grace that mirrored her own dragoness's flight, she guided Syrax into a smooth descent, the golden beast gliding elegantly toward the shore before touching down.

His dragon, Cannibal, by contrast, was a force of nature. At his urging, the massive dragon circled once, before landing heavily beside Syrax, his great claws kicking up plumes of sand and dust that flew around them in chaotic swirls.

Both Targaryen riders dismounted swiftly, their laughter ringing out over the crashing waves as they brushed themselves off.

The tension of the day seemed to melt away, leaving only the echoes of shared exhilaration, while Rhaenyra stepped closer to the water's edge, her silver-gold hair catching the moonlight. She then glanced over her shoulder at him, her lilac eyes bright with unguarded joy.

"That was quite fun, wasn't it, Uncle?" she said, her voice light and teasing, as she turned back to face the dark expanse of the ocean, her silhouette outlined against the endless rolling waves.

Aenys in turn lingered a few steps behind her, his valyrian-steel armored boots crunching softly against the sand as he let out a low chuckle, acompannied by a tired yet toothy grin breaking across his face, his usually composed demeanor giving way to something more youthful and unrestrained.

"I can't ever say that I didn't enjoy it, dear niece." he replied, his tone carrying a rare warmth, and for a moment, the years he had lost away from Westeros seemed to vanish.

Here, under the vast sky and before the endless sea, he felt almost like a child once again.

"Its quite the view, isn't it?" Aenys said after a stretch of quiet, his voice low and thoughtful as his eyes scanned the vast expanse before them. The waves rolled rhythmically against the shore, their murmuring underscoring the tranquil majesty of the scene.

Rhaenyra nodded, standing at his side, her arms lightly wrapped around herself against the cool breeze.

A faint, wistful smile touched her lips as she glanced at him. "It is. I usually come to this shores on Syrax quite often, after my mother died, you know? This kind of place soothes me." And Aenys turned his head slightly, studying her as she spoke. Her words, laced with an unspoken vulnerability, struck a chord in him.

He shifted his gaze back to the horizon, his voice carrying a note of agreement. "I can see why. The endless ocean, the breeze that feels like it carries away all of your worries,— and the way the sky seems to meet the water in the distance… It's a view that makes you feel small, but in a way that brings us peace."

For a time, silence hung between them, comfortable and companionable, broken only by the already usual and steady crash of the waves, and the occasional cry of a gull.

The moonlight bathed them both, painting their hair with a faint ethereal glow, and Rhaenyra tilted her head, now studying his profile with a newfound curiosity, noticing the youthful sharpness of his features, a stark contrast to the age she had always given him, and expected in him.

Her brow furrowed then, as she spoke, her tone light but tinged with genuine intrigue.

"You know, I've never noticed before… but why do you look so much younger than my father,— or even Uncle Daemon,— when you're supposed to be older than both of them?" And Aenys turned toward her slightly, a small, knowing smile curving his lips. "Would you believe me if I told you that while sixteen years passed for all of you since I was banished, only five passed for me?"

Rhaenyra suddenly blinked, her lilac eyes narrowing with doubt. "You must be jesting, uncle..."

And he chuckled softly, the sound warm and rich against the cool night air. "Not in the slightest. As your father and even me have told you already, I found myself waking up in Old Valyria after Cannibal saved me from drowning… and well, let's say that time there does not flow as fast it does here." Her gaze searched his, her skepticism warring with fascination. "Wait, you're serious?"

"Entirely so." His tone carried a quiet weight, his eyes gleaming with a mix of truth and mystery. "But… how? And why would time even pass differently in Valyria?" she pressed, her voice laced with a mix of confusion and wonder.

Yet his eyes never left the sea, his expression growing more distant by the moment. "If I had to guess, I'd say it has something to do with magic. Magic shaped the history of Valyria,— its rise, its power, and its downfall. Perhaps it lingers in ways we don't fully understand even now." A lie, for he knew exactly why only five years had passed for him,— not that she would come to know to truth of it one day, so no harm done.

Rhaenyra's brow then furrowed even further, as she nodded slowly. "That makes sense… in a strange, impossible way." And he immediately allowed himself a faint smile to form at her curious tone, his voice carrying an air of finality however. "Then let us say that magic is the answer to your question, dear niece." She tilted her head, considering his words, before finally asking the question that had been brewing in her mind. "So… in truth, how old are you right now, Uncle?"

"I'm currently nine-and-ten." He said simply, his tone steady but tinged with amusement as he watched her reaction, her eyes widening, as she let out a surprised gasp.

"No way!" she exclaimed, the outburst slipping past her usual composure, and for a moment, something fleeting and unreadable crossed her expression,— shock, perhaps, or wonder,— before she quickly schooled her features. That made him chuckle again, shaking his head as if amused by her disbelief. "I assure you, niece, I speak only the truth."

She then interjected hastily, her voice tinged with a mix of earnestness and embarrassment. "It's not that I don't believe you! I mean, you're standing right here in front of me, and I can see it for myself, but… it's just… strange, you know?"

"Such things are not easy to accept, I concede." Aenys said, his voice gentler now, almost contemplative. "No, they're not." she agreed, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips, and for a moment, she studied him again, in silence, her earlier wariness melting into quiet awe. "But then again, you're not exactly what one would call… ordinary, Uncle. Are you?"

Aenys raised an eyebrow, his smile deepening slightly. "No, not at all. And I'll be taking that as a compliment, dear niece."

Rhaenyra laughed softly, the sound carried away by the breeze as the waves crashed rhythmically against the shore.

The sky stretched endlessly above them, vast and indifferent to the mortal's affairs, while the waves kept on lapping rhythmically against the shore.

The moonlight still bathed the beach in a silvery glow, casting long shadows across the dark sand. The air was cooler than before as the night carried on, and the salty tang of the sea and the faint hum of nocturnal life from the nearby forest rang like an ongoing music.

Both Targaryens walked in silence, strolling through the endless beaches of the crownlands, having left their dragons to rest a little while back.

Their footsteps fell softly upon the sand, muffled by the yielding ground, yet Aenys' armor ended up betraying their presence with the faint, rhythmic clinking of the Valyrian-metal. The sharp, clinking sound pierced the natural stillness around them, causing the wildlife to fall silent sometimes as though deeming him a predator walking near them.

It was then, on that comfortable muted walk, that Rhaenyra froze, her eyes narrowing as she peered further down the beach, her body tense. "What is that?" she asked, her voice tight with a mix of curiosity and unease, since the curvature of the land did not let them truly grasp at what they were seeing.

Aenys stopped as well after a few steps, his brows knitting together as he followed her gaze. There, nestled against the shoreline where the sand met the forest's shadow, loomed a shape,— dark green and massive, its form blending almost seamlessly with the night.

"Hm?" he murmured, though recognition struck him almost immediately, while Rhaenyra's breath hitched and her lips parted as the realization dawned. "Is that…?"

He stiffened then, his voice coming out low and measured, carrying a warning edge as his pupils dilatated slightly, "Stay here, Rhaenyra." The latter recoiled slightly, her unease growing as she whispered to her him. "But uncle, should we not leave whilewe can?"

His head snapped toward her, his gaze sharp and commanding. "No." His tone brooked no argument. "Matter of fact, it would be best if you returned to your dragon. Go to Syrax, Rhaenyra, and if anything goes wrong, you fly to the Red Keep without looking back."

Her expression however, wavered between defiance and uncertainty, her lips parted, as though she might end up protesting, but he quickly placed a firm hand on her shoulder, steady and unyielding, which stopped her from doing so.

"But… isn't that Vhagar?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the waves, and he nodded curtly, his jaw tightening. "It is." he confirmed, already stepping forward, while her feet remained planted in the sand, he turned back then, his violet eyes blazing with intensity. "Now, Rhaenyra,— go to Syrax."

Reluctantly, she obeyed, casting a final, worried glance at the immense figure before retreating toward the distant, resting forms of Syrax and Cannibal, their massive shadows blending with the trees beyond far away from their position.

Aenys exhaled deeply, steadying himself as his attention returned to the slumbering dragon.

~ Flashback ~

The air in the dragonpit was heavy today, as shadows danced across the cavernous walls, a result of the sunlight that filtered through cracks from above.

Aenys clung tightly to his mother's skirts, his small hand gripping the fabric as though it might shield him from the enormity of the world around him. It was then that Alyssa, his mother, crouched down to his height, brushing a strand of silver hair from his wide-eyed face. "Do you wish to see a dragon, sweetling? A big, big dragon?" Her smile was warm but tinged with concern.

He hesitated, his gaze darting between her soft violet eyes and the dark maw of the descending dragonpit, and then he nodded, tentative but eager. "Muña(Mother)… I want to."

It was right then, that his father's, Baelon, deep laugh echoed as he extended a hand to him. "Come on then, boy. Vhagar awaits us."

Aenys wobbled toward his father, his small legs hurrying to keep pace as they descended deeper into the shadows, while behind them, his mother watched, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Good luck, my loves!" she murmured, somthing his father ended up catching on, as he saw him glance back with a grin. "Luck, dear? As if I've ever needed it."

Her snort of laughter followed them into the depths, as they walked and the air grew heavier, charged with the palpable presence of immense dragons.

Then, a sudden deep rumble resonated through the pit, both a warning and a greeting, and Aenys found himself clunging tighter to his father's hand. "Which dragon is that, Kepa(Father)?" he whispered, his voice trembling with raw fear.

Baelon's smile softened, his immense pride glinting in his eyes. "That's Vhagar, Aenys,— my big girl,— the dragon I ride."

And as if summoned by her name, the dragon stirred from one of the open caves that they were approaching. Golden orbs, gargantual and unblinking, opened and fixed on the pair, while her nostrils flared, testing the air, before her immense head lowered to inspect the man and the child.

Baelon's voice was steady and firm. "Calm yourself, Vhagar. Lykiri!(Be Calm!)" Magically, the she-dragon calmed down, her gaze softening as she sniffed at her rider, and then at him, while his father guided his tiny hand, brushing against the warm, scaled surface of Vhagar's immense snout.

"She's so big, Kepa(Father)!" he whispered, awe coloring every word.

Baelon chuckled, crouching beside him and resting a hand on his shoulder. "Aye, she is."

Aenys eyes widened as he took on the massive, shifting figure of Vhagar slightly adjusting herself, his wonder deepening be the second.

"But I want you to remember something very important, my son." Baelon continued, his tone solemn now. "A dragon is a gift from the gods that our family has earned, but it was never given to us, so I want you to respect every and any dragon that you might meet in the future. And who knows, son, perhaps one day when I'm gone, you might even claim Vhagar for yourself!"

Aenys nodded earnestly. "I will remember it, Kepa!" And Baelon's hand ruffled his hair, a proud smile spreading across his face. "I know you will, son."

~ Back to the Present ~

The memory faded as Aenys now stood before the great she-dragon once more.

Vhagar's massive form seemed both smaller and no less imposing in her slumber, as he was now quite significantly taller than when he was a child.

The moonlight danced across her ancient scales, illuminating the scars of battles long past, probably a result of the conquest or any other battles she had, and he stepped forward once more, the sand shifting beneath his heavy armored boots.

That was as far as he would go unnoticed, as a golden eye cracked open then. It fixed on him, and the air grew charged with tension, as slowly, Vhagar's head lifted, her nostrils flaring as she tested the scent of the one mindless human who had decided to approach her.

Aenys raised his hands, his voice calm and emotional. "Lykiri, Vhagar. You know me..."

The dragon stilled at the so strangely familar voice and tone, her gaze steady as she studied the Targaryen in front of her. He stepped closer then, always speaking in High Valyrian, his tone tinged with reverence and emotional attachment. "Do you remember me, girl? I often came to you as a boy, alongside your last rider, my father, Baelon. He once told me you might choose me someday, and I feel like he deep down knew our paths would inevitability cross like this..."

The she-dragon's nostrils flared again, and for a moment, she seemed to hesitate. Then, with a low rumble,— soft, almost like a purr,— her head lowered in recognition. Aenys reached out, his fingers brushing against her warm scales. "You remember me then." he murmured, a faint smile breaking through the stoicism of his features. "I am here now, and while I know that my father is long gone, I remain here. And I have missed you very much, my grumpy big girl."

The scene was cinematic, and if any could see it, they would think it more of a grandmother and grandchild reuniting after long years of separation than a bond being formed by a Targaryen and a dragon.

But suddenly, ghe scene was disturbed, as behind him, footsteps hit the sand. He turned sharply, his gaze narrowing as he noticed the petite form of Rhaenyra approaching. "Uncle?" she called softly, her voice tinged with both awe and trepidation.

Aenys's expression darkened then. "I think that I told you to stay back, no?" he said, his voice low but firm, and she hesitated, her gaze darting between him and the massive dragon. "I was worried about you…"

It was then that Vhagar stirred, her golden eyes narrowing as a low growl rumbled from her throat. "Lykiri, Vhagar." Aenys commanded sharply, his hand rising. "She is no threat to me." And the dragon hesitated, then calmed herself down.

Aenys sighed, the tension draining from his posture as he extended a hand toward his niece. "Come closer, Rhae,— slowly." Not noticing the way he subconsciently called out to his niece, but then again, neither did she, as she obeyed, her steps careful.

When she reached his side, he guided her hand on his own, towards Vhagar's snout, just like his father would do with him.

"She's… magnificent." Rhaenyra breathed a whisper, her voice trembling with raw awe, and he nodded, his expression softening ever so slightly. "She is, isn't she?"

Together, they stood before the ancient dragon of house Targaryen. The sound of the waves and the warmth of Vhagar's breath surrounded them, binding the moment in both of their memories deeply.

What Rhaenyra failed to notice, however, was the softening of Vhagar's eyes toward Aenys. The black stone of the Valyrian steel ring on his finger,— the same hand pressed against Vhagar's scales,— was now emitting a faint, soft black glow, a subtle sign of the magic at work in their newly formed bond.

After a while, the great she-dragon's immense chest rose and fell in a slow rhythm, her golden eye fixed lazily upon him, unblinking yet devoid of threat. She was ancient, powerful, and yet, in this moment, strangely vulnerable.

Aenys reached out her exposed neck, his hand brushing the rough texture of her scales. The warmth radiating from her body was a comfort against the cool night air, and he crouched low, bringing his face closer to hers, his voice low and steady.

"You are not alone anymore." he murmured a promise, his words soft yet carrying the weight of an oath. "I swear to you, Vhagar, I will never let you be forgotten or abandoned again."

The she-dragon rumbled in response, a deep, guttural sound that resonated through the ground beneath him. Slowly, she lowered her massive head to the sand, her nostrils flaring as she exhaled deeply. The warm gust of air tousled his hair, and a soft purring sound escaped her throat,— a sound of trust, of acknowledgment.

Aenys closed his eyes briefly, allowing himself to savor the moment.

The moment was shattered by a sharp crack from the nearby forest. His head snapped up, his hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of the blade at his side. Vhagar's nostrils flared, her eye narrowing, though she did not rise.

Aenys scanned the shadows beyond the trees, his muscles taut. There it was again,— a rustle, faint yet distinct. His sharp gaze locked onto a small figure darting out from the underbrush.

A rabbit.

The tiny creature froze under his scrutiny before scurrying away in a blur of fur, and he exhaled, his tension ebbing away, only to startle violently as hands clapped down on his shoulders from behind.

"Boo!" Rhaenyra's voice rang out, bright with mischief and Aenys turned sharply, his heart hammering against his ribs. "Gods, Rhaenyra!" he exclaimed, clutching his chest as if to steady himself. "Must you scare me out of my wits?"

Her laughter was unrepentant, her eyes gleaming with delight. "I couldn't resist, Uncle. You looked so serious, brooding over the rabbit as if it were a shadowcat." He narrowed his eyes at her, though his lips quirked into a reluctant smile. "You think this is a game, do you?" he said, his tone dangerously playful.

Before she could react, he bent down and scooped her up effortlessly, throwing her over his shoulder like a sack of grain.

Rhaenyra let out a surprised yelp, her fists playfully pounding against his back. "Uncle! Put me down this instant!" she cried, though her protests were undercut by her laughter.

"Oh, no!" Aenys replied, striding toward the ocean with deliberate steps. "You wanted to play games, niece. Let's see how much you enjoy a swim."

The sound of waves grew louder as he waded into the shallows, the water lapping at his boots. Rhaenyra squirmed in his grasp, her laughter ringing out into the night.

"You wouldn't dare!" she gasped, though there was no true fear in her voice, and Aenys paused taking a few steps back, his boots sinking into the wet sand, the water swirling around his ankles. "Wouldn't I?" he teased, his grip on her secure but gentle.

Their laughter mingled with the sound of the waves as he finally set her down, her feet splashing into the water. She shoved at his shoulder, her smile wide and unrestrained.

"You're impossible!" she said, shaking her head, though the mirth in her tone betrayed her words.

Vhagar watched them from a distance, her immense head lifted slightly, her golden eye following their every move. Even the ancient dragon, it seemed, was intrigued by this rare display of levity from her new companion.

The night deepened as they made their way back towards where they came from, and soon mounted their dragons, with Vhagar following closely behind them.

Cannibal's powerful wings spread wide as Aenys climbed atop him, the black dragon emitting a low, guttural growl that echoed through the stillness, a clear display of his sour mood. Aenys noted that his dragon must have sensed the bond he now shared with Vhagar. He felt profoundly grateful for the trials and hardships they had endured together in Old Valyria, for without them, who could say how the black dragon might have reacted to this new connection?

Syrax, golden and elegant, stood beside him, her gaze steady as Rhaenyra settled into her saddle as well. "Söves!" The commands were given, and the two dragons took to the skies in no time, the wind whipping through their hair, carrying away the last vestiges of their laughter. The stars seemed closer here, the world below a patchwork of shadows and silver light.

It wasn't long before Aenys noticed a shadow trailing them, vast and unmistakable, and as he glanced over his shoulder, his sharp eyes narrowed in thought.

"That will be hard to explain. I guess I will simply have to tell Viserys the half-truth..." he muttered under his breath, watching as the immense dragon followed their flight path, her massive wings slicing through the air with effortless grace.

Rhaenyra's voice broke through his thoughts. "Uncle..." she called, her tone edged with suspicion. "Why is Vhagar following us?"

Aenys hesitated, his mind racing. "Perhaps she is lonely." he replied jokingly, though he knew it was more than that.

Rhaenyra's gaze lingered on him, her sharp mind piecing together fragments of the puzzle. "She's following you, isn't she?" she pressed, her tone thoughtful. "But you're already bonded with Cannibal. How could she—...?"

"Enough questions, niece." Aenys said, his voice gentle but firm. "We'll speak of it another time." Rhaenyra frowned, her curiosity far from sated, but she did not press further.

The air between them was thick with tension as they finally arrived, and descended toward the Dragonpit. The massive structure loomed below, with torches casting flickering shadows across the stone entrance.

Cannibal landed first, his dark form bristling as his claws scraped against the ground.

Syrax followed, her golden wings folding neatly as she settled beside him, but it was Vhagar's arrival that stole the breath of those present. The dragonkeepers froze as the ancient beast descended, her wings stirring up a gale that sent dust and debris swirling through the air. Cannibal growled low, his green eyes locking onto Vhagar in a silent challenge as his mood soured even more, but the she-dragon paid him no mind, and simply made herself comfortable, watching Aenys intently.

The dragonkeepers approached hesitantly and confused, their movements slow and deliberate. One of them stepped forward, his voice quavering. "Prince Aenys… shall we guide them inside?"

And he shook his head. "No. Cannibal and Vhagar will not enter the pit. They will rest in the Kingswood and hunt the ocean."

"But, my prince..." the keeper protested, his tone wary. "It is highly irregular—..." Cannibal cut him off with a deafening roar, his maw opening to reveal rows of sharp teeth. The man staggered back, his face pale, as Aenys raised a hand to soothe his dragon.

"That will do, Cannibal." Aenys said firmly.

Turning back to the keeper, he added, "You have your orders, men. Do not question them again." The man nodded hastily, retreating with a mumbled apology, and Rhaenyra watched the exchange with a mixture of amusement and awe as she caught on the way her uncle easily inserted his authority over others.

Both then bid their dragons a farewell, and made to the Red Keep, the atmosphere a stark contrast to the earlier flight. Aenys and Rhaenyra rode side by side on horseback, the sound of hooves echoing through the quiet streets. Soon though, their earlier laughter ended up returning, the tension of the Dragonpit forgotten as they exchanged playful jests.

Their mirth was short-lived, however, as they approached the castle gates, with the imposing figure of Viserys awaiting them, flanked by Ser Harrold, Ser Steffon and Ser Arryk of the Kingsguard. His expression was stern, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Father…" Rhaenyra began, her voice tentative, yet Viserys cut her off with a sharp look. "Rhaenyra. Aenys. Care to explain why I find my daughter flying through the night sky with my brother, unannounced?"

Aenys dismounted then, his movements calm and deliberate as he approached his brother. "Viserys." he began, his tone conciliatory. "You're right, I should have informed you personally and while I'll take full responsibility for any worry you might have gotten over it, I did send Ser Harrold and Ser Steffon to inform you beforehand."

Viserys's gaze softened slightly, though his frown remained. "See that you do. You may be my brother, but Rhaenyra is my daughter before all else, and I worry over her more than I do over you." Rhaenyra stepped forward then, her voice firm. "Father, it was my decision as much as uncle's to go flying at such late hours, I wanted to go too."

And Viserys finally sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "The pair of you will be the death of me some day, I swear it..." he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward. He then gestured toward the keep. "Go, both of you. Rest the most you can, and we'll speak more of this tomorrow on the morning's small council."

"Certainly, brother. Have a good night." Aenys said, and he and Rhaenyra quickly walked away, as they soon ascended the steps of Maegor's Holdfast, Aenys escorting Rhaenyra to her chambers, their steps echoing softly in the quiet halls of the Red Keep.

The earlier lightness in their conversation had dimmed, replaced by a shared fatigue from the day's events, while torches lined the walls and often flickered, casting shadows that danced and stretched across the stone corridors.

When they reached the heavy wooden door of Rhaenyra's quarters followed by the usual Ser Steffon and Ser Harrold, she paused, turning to face her uncle. Her expression was soft, her lilac eyes searching his face for something she couldn't quite name.

"Thank you, Uncle..." she said, her voice low but sincere. "For tonight… for everything. It was…" Aenys tilted his head, his lips curving into a faint smile. "It was what?" he prompted gently.

Rhaenyra hesitated, her cheeks warming as she searched for the right words. "It was… freeing." she admitted finally. "For a while, it felt like there was no court, no expectations, and I forgot all of my recent losses. It was just us, the dragons, and the sky."

Aenys nodded, understanding her unspoken thoughts. "The weight of loss can be heavy, niece." he said, his tone thoughtful. "But its in moments like these that we remind ourselves why we bear it day after day. At least that's how I see it..."

Her smile returned, small but genuine. "You sound like Father." she teased lightly, though there was no malice in her tone, and Aenys chuckled, the sound low and warm. "Let's not insult your father by comparing him to me. He's far more patient." Rhaenyra laughed softly, shaking her head. "I think you're more alike than either of you would care to admit."

A comfortable silence stretched between them then, the sounds of the castle fading into the background, and Rhaenyra stepped closer, rising onto her toes to press a light kiss to his cheek, much to the amusement of Ser Harrold who was watching with a small smile. "Goodnight, Uncle." she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aenys blinked, momentarily taken aback, but he recovered quickly, a small, wry smile playing on his lips. "Goodnight, niece." he replied, his voice soft.

She then slipped into her chambers, the door closing behind her with a quiet click.

Aenys lingered for a moment, staring at the door as if trying to hold onto the fleeting warmth of the moment. Then he turned, his expression growing more contemplative as he made his way back through the dimly lit halls of Maegor's Holdfast, followed by Ser Harrold only.

And as he stepped out onto one of the keep's many balconies, the cool night air greeted him once more. Below, the city sprawled like a living painting, its lights twinkling faintly in the distance.

He leaned against the stone railing, his gaze drifting toward the sky. The events of the night played over in his mind,— Vhagar's recognition and bonding, Rhaenyra's growing trust, and Viserys's quiet brotherly affection and forgiveness.

He exhaled deeply, his breath visible in the crisp air. For the first time in years, he felt a strange sense of belonging, as fragile and fleeting as it might be. The pieces of his life, long scattered, seemed to inch closer together.

"Cannibal, Viserys, Rhaenyra and then Vhagar..." he murmured to himself, his voice lost in the night. "The man I once was and the man I know I need to become to stop the dead… perhaps they can coexist after all."

Far above, two dragon's roars echoed faintly, a reminder of the ancient bond that tied his Targaryen blood to his fiery beasts,— and to one another. He smiled faintly then, the sound stirring something deep within him.

Turning back toward the keep, he straightened his shoulders and began the slow walk to his own chambers, accompaniedby the older white caped knight. There was much yet to do in the following times, and the songs that would one day be sung across the world about him, had only just begun to yield its secrets.

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| Fire & Blood |

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