𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 - 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐃

𝙈𝙮 𝙆𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙧.

Her sobs had calmed down, face damp from devastation.

The dragon-mont was dimly lit by her torch, and she let herself believe that her excuse to sit on the harsh stone flooring of the tunnel was the heavy weight of her illuminant, when really she intended to quietly cry.

She clutched her head, before continuing forward, up the steps.

"Fire Breather, Winged Leader, But two heads," The princess sucked in a deep, confident breath. "to a third sing. From my voice, the fires have spoken, and the price has been paid, with blood magic. With words of flame, with clear eyes, to bind the three, To you I sing. As one we gather, and with three heads, we shall fly as we were destined, beautifully, freely." Kneeling, she set down the torch slowly.

Not a single sound was to be heard until so suddenly, the room had been illuminated by the greatest flame, a loud roar elicited from the beast. The dragon stared into her eyes, huffing as he peered at her. "Dohaeras, Vermithor." His breathing calmed. "You have been asleep so long. It is time for you to arise."

Visenya laid her hand along the thick skin of his snout, not too worried for her safety. If she were to die now, it was decided that she would go contently. Perhaps she was a true dragon, and unable to burn. "We are going to avenge him, Vermithor."

Within minutes the dragon stood at the coast of Dragonstone, ready for flight. "If subtlety is something you require on your journey to wherever you're going, Vermithor is not the dragon to take." Daemon commented, making her jump.

"You shouldn't scare me like that." She pursed her lips. "I don't care for subtlety. It has no place in war."

Silently, he revealed his weapon, showing it to her by the handle. "Here. Take it."

"Dark Sister?"

The man nodded. "It belonged to a Visenya Targaryen that came long before you, it is the reason we have a Queensguard today." Daemon's head tilted, a newfound softness to him. "It was forged for a warrior of your character."

The younger took it, inspecting the blade for just a second before sliding it into her scabbard. "Thank you."

"Are you going to kill him?"

"If the seven see it fit."

⚔

The flight was faster on the bigger dragon, she'd reached King's Landing just as he returned from Storm's End.

Visenya had snuck in with ease, remembering every nook and cranny of the castle, and the position of every guard while Vermithor remained by the coast, just outside the city.

She knocked twice.

"Come in." His voice was monotoned, one he'd used to address an expected maid.

She opened the door slowly, an odd creak stealing his attention before he laid eyes on her. "Visenya." Aemond let out a breath, a small smile painted onto his face as he stood. "I've missed you, my love." He wrapped his arms around her, embracing her.

His touch burned into her skin, an inexplicable heat eliciting from his hold that she couldn't seem to deny. Maybe she wasn't a true dragon after all, as her skin ached and body melted into his. "Have you, Aemond?"

"Of course, I have."

Her tone held no malice, no sadness, nothing. "What did you miss about me?" She spoke again before he could respond with flattery. "Did you miss me? Did you crave to see the devastation on my face? Did you mourn when you missed the opportunity to laugh at me when I learned of my brother's death?"

The Prince pulled back. "What do you mean?"

"Please, do not lie to me." Her hand threatened to unsheathe the sword. "I really dislike it when you lie to me, Aemond."

"It was an accident, Visenya. You must believe me."

He pulled out his own blade at the sight of hers. "Why? When have you ever told me the truth?" She cried, striking him, only to be blocked.

Aemond was sure not to hurt her as he dodged her attacks. "From the day we met, everything has been true. My love for you has been nothing but the truth."

"How could you do this to me?"

She continued with her aggression, not noticing or not caring for his continuous steps backwards until he tripped, falling back onto the rug with his head just a few inches from the fireplace. Mere inches away from meeting his death.

Visenya drove the blade down with full force, the tip wedging itself into the flooring. Dark Sister had caught a few strands of his hair, instantly slicing off the blond locks. A knock at the door sounded. "Everything alright in there, Prince Aemond? I heard a noise."

He did his best to sound less strained from the ground, a blade so close to his ear. "Yes, all fine."

The princess let go of the breath she held as footsteps retreated, falling onto her husband's body, straddling him as she held onto the sword. "How could you?"

"I'm sorry."

"If I had a piece of gold for every time you have wronged me, and I have shown you mercy, I could perhaps be the richest woman in Westeros." Visenya plucked the blade from the ground, holding it to his neck, he showed little objection. "Now you are to die at the hands of your wife."

Aemond let out a small chuckle. "It would be the greatest pleasure."

The steel had begun to lightly break skin. "I don't want to give you that pleasure. You are not owed any pleasure."

"Then deny me of it."

"I want you to burn, to die screaming."

He gently took a hold of her wrist, not to prevent his imminent demise, but to touch her once more. "You shall have whatever you desire, my Visenya."

Tears had clouded her, as they had done often this day, but his one lavender eye had pierced through, engraved into her brain. "My forgiveness is not a virtue you can count on, ever again." He nodded.

And with that, the sword parted from his neck, and she had whisked away, leaving the window open. Aemond stood quickly with heavy breaths, looking out where she had exited, unable to spot her.

He heard the distant cry of Vermithor, and he smiled with a closed eye, proud.