Dreams, Dragons, and Deceit || Aemond & Aegon Targaryen

Driftmark

"I'm sorry for your loss, cousin. I wish that I could have met her..." Without further prompting, the girl burst into tears, clinging to Visaera. The princess patted her gently on the back and attempted to murmur reassurances to her cousin, but what could she say? She was but twelve and had never even met her aunt. She had no idea how to comfort someone who was mourning. Surely that should be their father's job? Their father... The realization hit her so hard that her knees nearly gave out. If Daemon Targaryen was her father, Baela and Rhaena were her half-sisters.

The all-consuming inner crisis she was having was averted when Aemond approached them. He stood their looking uncomfortable for a moment and then opened his mouth to speak. Visaera raised an eyebrow as no words came out and then the prince hurried off, leaving them all confused. Realizing she hadn't seen Aegon in quite some time, Visaera glanced around the gathering, only to find him across the way; gulping down another glass of wine. Just as she decided to go talk to him, her mother appeared.

"Go to bed," she commanded.

"But—"

"Go to bed," Rhaenyra repeated pointedly before heading down the stairs that lead to the beach. The boys went inside, but Visaera remained there, staring at the spot where her mother had disappeared. She knew where she was going; she had seen who went down the stairs only minutes before her mother had. Fidgeting, the princess remained there at the edge of the gathering until the King retired for the evening. When she finally found Aegon, he was slouching on the same steps her mother had taken, an empty wine cup in each hand.

"What is wrong with you?" she hissed, kicking his leg. He let out a groan and looked up at her with fogged eyes.

"Oh, oh, my sweet niece," he greeted with a grin, "How I've missed you."

"You're drunk, Aegon," she replied, wrinkling her nose in disgust and taking a step back.

"Yes, I think I am," he agreed, "I've found that it's an excellent way to pass the time since you left the keep."

"I see..." she murmured, "And yet, I'm here now and you'd rather drink than—"

"Aegon!" Otto Hightower charged down the steps and gripped the drunken prince by the collar, tugging him up the steps. "Get to bed!" Those who remained had gone quiet as they watched the Hand of the King chastise his grandson and then slowly the conversations around the gathering resumed.

Behind the castle, the sun had set and it was quickly growing dark, and yet, Visaera did not want to go to bed. Nearly reflecting as her mother had done earlier, she walked around the edges of the gathering with a cup of wine in her hand, scarcely bothering to actually drink from it. The next time she reached the top of the stairs, she found a figure standing at the midway point, staring off into the distance.

"Hello, Aemond," she said softly, propping herself up on her elbows and leaning over the stone railing of the stairs. He didn't reply and, over the sound of the waves crashing, she could make out Vhagar's soft calling in the distance. It was the first time she had ever heard a dragon cry; she found it both haunting and beautiful. She glanced at Aemond, who continued to stare out into the darkness, and then followed his gaze. In the distance, she could only just make out Vhagar's monstrous form in the dunes.

Her eyes widened as the realization of what was happening dawned on her.

"You want to... Aemond, you can't! Rhaena wants—"

"Rhaena has left her crying for days," he retorted sharply.

"She's mourning her mother!" Visaera argued.

"As is her right," he acknowledged, "but why should that stop me? The only person who can stop me from claiming Vhagar is Vhagar herself. It is her decision and hers alone..." Visaera pondered his words, thinking about all the years she had longed for a dragon of her own. "She's calling me, don't you see?"