Ice | House of the Dragon

XII

The night sky blazes with the flickering lights of dragonfire as Jaenys guides her mighty dragon through the turbulent air. Aelora and Aerys cling tightly to their saddles, their faces etched with a mix of fear and determination. They are now fleeing their own palace, the once-golden halls now tainted by betrayal and usurpation. The wind whips through their hair, carrying with it the echoes of the chaos they have left behind. As they fly onward, the trio sought refuge in a secluded cave nestled in the mountains. The cold stone walls offer a temporary respite from the turmoil outside, allowing them a moment to collect their thoughts. Jaenys's heart aches for the loss of her crown, for the shattered dreams of a prosperous reign. But amidst the despair, a fire burns within her—resolve to reclaim what is rightfully theirs.

Days turn into weeks as Jaenys, Aelora, and Aerys travel in secrecy, disguised and hidden from prying eyes.

No one will help them, not a single soul. The realm was already hesitant when Jaenys was named heir, and they would never replace a King with a Queen. Not again.

The dimly lit cave feels suffocating as the dwindling supplies of food and hopes weigh heavily on their hearts. Jaenys sits at a rough-hewn table, her brows furrowed with worry, while Aelora and Aerys paced restlessly nearby. Outside, the wind howls, mirroring the turmoil within their hidden refuge.

"We cannot stay here forever," Aerys mutters his voice laced with frustration, "We should be out there, rallying our forces, reclaiming what is rightfully ours."

Jaenys sighs, her gaze fixed on the meager provisions before them.

"Aerys, we have gone over this," She starts, " The realm has bent the knee to Viserys. We lack support, resources, and a viable path forward. It is not just about claiming the throne; it is about the safety of our family."

Aelora, ever the voice of reason, speaks up, her tone gentle yet firm.

"Mother is right. The throne can wait," The Princess insists.

Aerys scoffs, his entitlement evident in his voice.

"You two are always so cautious, always playing it safe. But I am the rightful future king, and it is my duty to claim the throne!" He exclaims.

Jaenys's patience wears thin as she rose from her seat, her eyes ablaze with a mix of love and frustration.

"Being the rightful heir does not guarantee success. It does not give you the right to recklessly endanger our lives," She says as calmly as she can manage, " We need a plan, a strategy, and support. Without those, we are no better than a dying flame in the cold winds of winter."

Silence settles in the cave, broken only by the distant howling of the wind. The weight of their circumstances hangs heavily upon them, suffocating any lingering hope. Jaenys's gaze shifts between her children, her heart torn between her desire for the throne and the fierce protectiveness she felt for their well-being.

"Fine, play it safe if you want. But mark my words, Mother, I will not be forgotten. I will reclaim what is rightfully mine, with or without your approval."

As the cavern echoes with the weight of their unspoken doubts and fears, Jaenys reaches out, placing a hand on Aerys's shoulder. In that moment, their connection transcends their differences, their shared blood reminding them of the love that bound them together.

Aerys, despite his arrogance, loves his mother, a fact of which he cannot deny... but perhaps he loves the Throne even more.

"We're wasting enough time," He spits, his voice laced with frustration," The realm should be ours by now. We should be sitting on the Iron Throne."