[066] the coronation of the usurper

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AEMOND TARGARYEN WAS NOT a good sleeper. Ever since he was a child, it was too hard for him to fall asleep and too easy to wake up. Most of the night hours spent reading books or staring at the ceiling after Alicent found out that he was awake and took his books from him. He found no comfort or benefit in the activity and would never sleep if he could.

Unfortunately, he was aware that in order to do his daily activities, including training and studying, he had to drink, eat, and sleep like any other person. But despite this awareness, he continued to struggle with his sleep.

For years he was tormented by nightmares, pain, and loneliness, from which he could not hide anywhere, and from which no one could save him. That's how it's always been.

Except that night.

That night, Aemond Targaryen wasn't in pain, he wasn't alone, and he wasn't having any nightmares. No, he was dreaming. He was dreaming for the first time since the time in the seemingly distant past, when he did not consider himself a man but a boy.

He dreamed of a sunny day, a blue sky, and fluffy white clouds above which he was flying on Vhagar's back. He dreamed of the girl's laughter in his ears as she flew past him on a dragon much faster than his own. He dreamed of her long silver hair flowing behind her as she flew along with the black coat around her shoulders that he assumed was his own.

He dreamed of her suddenly disappearing into the clouds only to appear a second later by his side, her smile even more enchanting than from the distance she was in before. He dreamed of her voice calling out to him, something he unfortunately couldn't hear over the noise of the wind, but when she realized it, she just laughed at his confusion and motioned for him to follow her.

The silver dragon on whose back she was sitting only flapped her wings twice to get in front of Vhagar and continued to fly faster in an unknown direction towards an unknown destination. Neither of them, the dragon or her rider, looked back to make sure their companions were following them. As if the girl wasn't even worried that he wouldn't follow her.

She didn't even have to. Of course Aemond followed her.

He would follow her anywhere.

The image before his eyes slowly faded into nothingness. He didn't even realize it. He was engulfed in an all-too-peaceful ignorance and darkness, similar to the peace offered to him by a duvet during difficult nights. Just like then, he was surrounded by warmth and silence, and nothing else mattered to him. He thought of nothing else. He just felt.

Aemond sighed contentedly and shifted a little, his left cheek sinking more into the soft surface of something he was lying on. From that moment on, he became aware of similar details more and more. He felt some fabric on his right shoulder, felt the tickle of his own hair on his neck, felt a calm breath that did not belong to him on his chest.

But none of it was unpleasant or enough to wake him up. In fact, it added to his peace.

However, he suddenly stopped feeling the regular breath on his chest and in a fraction of a second he felt the mattress under him move and creak as someone shifted on it. The warmth he felt before did not disappear completely, but it moved away enough to wake him up.

His eyes slowly opened, but immediately closed again when he caught a glimpse of light that penetrated beyond the curtains. His eyebrows furrowed as he felt his sleep slipping awat through his fingers and he sighed. After a long time, he tried to open his eyes again, more carefully this time, until he was completely used to the light. He blinked a few times to rid himself of the stinging in his eye and looked around, disoriented and confused about where he was. The mattress beneath him creaked again, drawing his attention to the person lying next to him.

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