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Lightning speared the sky, illuminating the cascading rain like a thousand fractured diamonds. The moon, usually a silent observer, cowered behind a veil of storm clouds, unable to witness the scene it had foreseen.
Viserra guided Mavros, her dragon, towards a hard landing in the castle yard. Arrax, her brother Luke's smaller dragon, followed close behind. The ground trembled with the force of their descent, a tremor that echoed the dread in Viserra's heart.
A guttural growl ripped through the air. Viserra whipped around, her breath catching in her throat. A flash of lightning illuminated the hulking form of a dragon – Vhagar, unmistakably ridden by the one-eyed prince, Aemond.
Icy fingers of terror snaked down Viserra's spine. He was here. The man who'd betrayed her, who'd haunted her dreams. The memory of his hand tightening around her throat sent a wave of nausea crashing over her.
"He's here," she whispered, her voice a ragged echo in the storm. "He's here. He's here." Fear morphed into a different kind of fire – a rage so potent it tasted like ash in her mouth.
He will kill me. He will kill me.The thought hammered in her skull, a relentless drumbeat.
Burn it all, Burn it all and watch them die.
A comforting nudge from Mavros's massive head brought her back to the present. With a shaky breath, she dismounted and walked towards Luke, whose wide eyes mirrored her own terror.
"Luke, listen to me," she said, her voice tight with barely suppressed panic. "Aemond is here. Promise me you won't speak to him, won't retaliate, won't even look at him."
Luke remained transfixed, staring up at Vhagar.
"Luke, promise me!" Her voice cracked with desperation.
Finally, he met her gaze, a flicker of fear in his young face. "I promise, Serra," he mumbled.
Viserra took a deep, steadying breath and grasped Luke's hand. Together, they walked towards the castle doors, two figures dwarfed by the looming stone structure.
"Do not let him see you weak," she chanted silently, a mantra against the rising tide of fear. But the memory of Aemond's cruelty remained etched in her mind, a constant thrumming reminder.
The doors creaked open, revealing a brightly lit hall. Viserra's gaze darted towards Aemond, and a fresh wave of fury washed over her. He stood next to another woman, a bitter confirmation of the whispers about an arranged marriage.
Laughter, sharp and mocking, rose from her throat. She wanted to scream, to rage against the injustice, the betrayal. But something held her back, a sliver of control amidst the storm within.
"Foolish girl," she murmured to herself, the words laced with self-loathing. "Weak."
Her hands trembled, a physical manifestation of the turmoil within. Without Luke's steadying presence, she felt like she might crumble. The lilac eye, once filled with adoration, now glinted with a cold indifference that sent a fresh wave of pain through her.
