Tainted Crown | Aemond Targaryen

XVIII

The waves crashed against the sandy shore, it's clear blue hue shimmering beneath the glowing moon. The sea having only just embraced Laena Velaryon, it seemed to cry with each wave.

Daemon and Rhaenyra lie tangled in each other's arms. Leaning against his broad chest, she traced idle circles on his scarred arm, the silence between them comfortable, a language woven from years of shared history.

"Viserra grows more like you every day," she mused, her voice soft. "The mischief in her eyes, the sharp wit."

Daemon chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through her. "A dragon with fire in her belly, like her father."

A wry smile touched Rhaenyra's lips. "Indeed. Though I hope her flames are directed outwards, not inwards." She had always worried for her eldest daughter, for she knew being away from Aemond had been hard for Viserra.

"Jacaerys," She continued, pushing the thought aside, "He has my mother's grace. A Lord in the making."

"And the Velaryon blood of the sea runs strong in Lucerys and Joffrey," Daemon added, his voice gruff but not unkind. "Harwin Strong's strength and loyalty shines through the three boys as well."

Rhaenyra sighed, a touch of wistfulness in her voice. "I wish you could be more present in their lives, Daemon. Viserra needs guidance as do the younger ones."

He turned his head, meeting her gaze with his violet, unreadable eyes. "And what of you, Rhaenyra? Do you crave my guidance, or my presence?"

The question hung heavy in the salty air, laced with unspoken desires and the tangled knot of their unconventional relationship.

Tracing a finger along his jawline, a smile graced her lips. "Both, my dearest uncle. But most of all, I crave a moment of peace amidst the storm that brews on the horizon."

He pulled her closer, his lips finding hers in a kiss that was both tender and fierce, a taste of stolen moments and shared secrets. As they pulled apart, their breaths mingled, a silent promise hanging between them.

In the embrace of the sandy shore, they were not prince and heir, niece and uncle, but simply Daemon and Rhaenyra, soon to be bound by blood, desire and the complicated tapestry of their family.

But, even in the stolen moments of intimacy, the knowledge of the coming flames loomed large, flickering brightly on the horizon of their future. Each one of their fates intertwined with the dragon's song of fire and blood.

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Viserra Velaryon sat upright in her bed, gasping for air. Sheets tangled around her, cold and clammy against her skin. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat in the oppressive darkness. The nightmare clung to her like smoke, vivid and terrifying.

Weak, weak, weak

She was back in King's Landing, atop Mavros, the city spread out beneath her like a tapestry woven with the fire. The screams of the dying reached her ears, sharp and accusatory. Her own voice, distorted and shrill, echoed in the wind as she urged Mavros forward, a rain of flames spewing from its maw.

But then, amidst the chaos, a single eye.

Sapphire, blue, cold and unwavering, it pierced through the smoke and searing heat.

Aemond's eye, mocking and unforgiving, watched her burn the world. It followed her as she fled King's Landing, a burning ember in the darkness, a constant reminder of her crimes, the betrayal.