2| The day of the dragon

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In the beginning

This loneliness is a vice on Searas heart, squeezing with just enough pressure to be a constant pain. It kills her every day just a little bit more, taking what was once her inner light and replacing it with a darkness that overshadows each moment. It is the fuel of her nightmares, the reason she struggles to breathe when a new shock comes.

Seara Targaryen felt as if the world used to kiss up against her skin and laugh with her, hold her – no longer. It was as if the world had shrunken away to leave a cold void around her skin, as if she had become detached from reality itself.

Daemon had managed to take many things from Seara in their shared childhood jest, but this had been by far the worst of it.

Seara couldn't be sure if it had been merely hours, days or weeks since her brothers left her stranded on Dragonstone. And each day brought a new hope that was ripped away just as quickly as it came apon seeing that there was no Caraxes in the horizon to come back for her. No Viserys to wake her up and claim that it was just a bad dream, to bring her down into the comfort of the library to talk about history and Philosophy.

It was just Seara, the hard pebbles and rocks beneath her feet, the cold ocean breeze on her skin and the rough edges of the dragon glass she clutched in her hands.

She lay awake day and night plagued by the events that transpired between her brothers, a betrayal in the shape of a scar on her cheek as the blood turned to scab, grateful that amongst her brother's act of wrath, the fall had not managed to take her eye.

Seara wondered how long this misery would continue, when her belly would collapse in hunger and start eating away at her bones.

When the bags under her eyes would surely grow too heavy for her face to hold.

When the harsh weather of Dragonstone would seep into her flesh and grant her a fever.

She pondered if the dragons that surrounded her, eye her like a meal, a lamb ready to succumb to the fate of a lion.

Unknown to her that a rather large one, in particular, was watching not so much out of hunger, but curiosity. A hulking, black beast that blended with the shadows. Eyes a warm, deadly glow as it eyed the girl day and night, keeping the other dragons at bay.

A dragon that observed every morning as she tended to her maimed cheek with the salty waves of dragon stone, hisses and profanities unfit for a child leaving her chapped lips.

The day that Seara became aware of the beast's presence was not a frightful one. If she were to die from a mighty beast, she would be thankful, for it was not a death for which she would succumb to her own stomach.

She knew by the way her muscles tensed and her limbs wanted to flee, that he was there, just simply monitoring. The beast was content in the fact that it never revealed itself to her, flourishing in the darkness of the cave she took shelter from in the harsh winds.

On this particular day, Seara grew bored of waiting for the gods to decide her fate, wanting to take matters into her own hands as the salty, cold water seeped into Searas's small cuts on her feet, stones slicing and shredding the skin as it steals the heat from her naked soles just as fast as the wind steals the heat upon her face.

For The Love Of Kin | Aemond Targaryen  Where stories live. Discover now