Burn me • Aemond Targaryen

Rampage

Chapter Sixty-nine~ Rampage

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Dragons were said to be fire made flesh. They were beasts of flame and sky. Winged creatures that were ridden by another breed of majestic creatures. Dragons and their bonded riders were the rulers of the sky for generations. There were many houses that resided in Valyria, hundreds more than the houses that resided in westeros. But only a select few were given the gift of Dragon bonding.

When tragedy stuck the Valyrian Freehold, the only Dragon bonded family to survive was house Targaryen.

But Dragons were a power many believed should never of been trifled with. Many believed Targaryens would slip into madness, and letting a mad man loose with a fire breathing beast is a curse many would wish to escape.

Aemond's wrath had been a crime thrust upon the world by the Gods. When they crafted him, and his godlike features, something must've slipped into the bowl of his life, or maybe years and years of building a wall only his wife had managed to climb had made him the ultimate weapon. But whatever it was that made him burn in anger at the drop of a coin, was a terrible, terrible thing.

But now most of his coins had slipped, he needed to get to her, get to Rhaella and make sure she was there for him to always return to. But he could not and it drove him mad. He wanted to set fire to the world, burn it all down and Vhagar was his beast of the bond.

"Dracarys." He muttered, his voice lacked any sincerity as he looked down at the villages below. The flames came down on them like hot rain from hell, it wrapped around anything it managed to reach out too. He watched from high above in the air, as the orange burning light swallowed anything in its path, and he wondered then what it was to be the fire, instead of the one casting it.

His rampage continued through out the Riverlands, and the screams of the people that were faced with the fire below only managed to add to the time he would take on his rampage.

There was a reason their house motto was fire and blood, it was because they were the same thing. It was the only natural thing about a Targaryen, the only thing that was true. Fire was their element, their true nature. The flame became one with the beating heart.

Aemond wanted her, he needed her back. Without her it felt like his throat was constricting, pulling the air from his lungs. He wanted to hurt them, hurt them for having him away from her, from their children. And he could only hope she was sly enough to survive the snakes that slithered around the court.

Flame after flame, hit the lands below, and looking down now felt no different to looking up at a night sky. The flames that burned below looked no different to the stars that flickered above, to him it was beautiful, to have all this power, to be able to create something tat was unique to him.

He hoped they were watching, he hoped they would come after him. and when they did he would make sure they never harmed his wife again.

He would have her back.

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There he was.

Well his head.

Little Prince Maelor.

It was barbaric. His eyes still lay open, wide in shock, struck in fear. His eyes were blue, unlike his siblings, a magnificent shade of blue, like the ice that held up the wall in the north. They were sorrowful eyes, sad and realising.