Rhaenyra sat at Aenar's bedside, the young boy nearly hidden under the covers as his form lightly trembled. Her youngest got like this often, especially after certain dreams.
Sometimes she wishes she could curse Aerion for passing down his dreams.
"Come sweetling," She whispered as her hands, bereft of their usual rings, ran through the boys silky hair. "Tell me what's wrong?"
The room was quiet except for the soft rustling of sheets and the distant rumble of the sea outside of Dragonstone.
Aenar clung to the edges of his sheets, still pale and wide eyed, staring at something far away. Rhaenyra continued to gently stroke his hair, trying to soothe him, but his body was as stiff as stone.
"What did you see sweetling?" She asked gently, continuing to brush his hair.
Aenar hesitated, then softly, he spoke.
"It was…dragonstone, it was dark and raining" he said, as if checking off everything he could remember. "But the ocean was angry" he continued shakily. "It climbed the cliffs and pulled down the towers and the gates"
"It was so loud, the castle," Aenar clarified as he continued, his small fists clenched around the sheets. "It screamed, like it was dying." He swallowed.
"And then crows came, hundreds, all flying above Dragonstone." He said as he leaned into his mothers touch, as if seeking her warmth. "They didn't fly away or anything, they just…watched, like they knew it was going to happen."
Rhaenyea hummed slowly, trying to remain calm as her mind tried to race through the implications. "What of us? Were we there?" She asked.
Aenar nodded.
"We were on a hill watching but—but we couldn't move." His eyes met his mothers, the same dark purple as Aerions, but they looked scared.
Not a look she often saw in Aerions.
"Why couldn't we move?" Rhaenyra asked curiously, a weird sense of dread filling her.
"He was behind us."
Aenar whispered, afraid it would hear him.
"Gaelithox."
—-
With a low, resonant trill like the song of the sea itself, Gaelithox sliced through the swirling clouds. The great Valyrian dragon's massive wings beat steadily as Baelor and Aerion clung to his scaled back, the wind roaring past them.
Below, Dragonstone emerged from the mist, its jagged cliffs standing like ancient sentinels against the restless ocean.
Gaelithox banked gracefully, wings folding with practiced ease as he descended toward the courtyard. The dragon's great shadow fell across the stones below, a living tempest made flesh.
With a powerful thud, their landing shook the ground. Gaelithox lowered himself slowly, scales glinting in the fading light, his head bowing in quiet submission to the home he had known so long.
Rhaenyra and Aenar waited by a pair of heavy oak doors, the guards stationed silently nearby. Aenar's eyes trembled slightly as they tracked Gaelithox's slow, graceful stretches, the dragon's wings unfolding like dark sails in the fading light.
Aerion noticed but didn't say a word as he noticed Rhaenyra start to approach.
Quickly, he stepped forward and pulled Rhaenyra into a sudden, fierce embrace, burying his face in the familiar scent of her hair. His grip tightened as if afraid she might slip away after so brief a time apart.
Rhaenyra melted into him without hesitation, the warmth of his touch easing her newfound worries. Though he had been gone only two nights at Crow's Point, the distance had already stretched thin the fabric of their shared life.
Baelor and Aenar eyed each other for a moment, Baelor quickly noticing the almost frightened look on his younger brother's face.
Baelor already knew what it was, afterall Aenar always has that exact look after dreams. But before he could ask what had happened in this dream, a master rushed out into the courtyard, his breath heavy with a letter held tightly in his pale hands.
"Princess — a word, if you please."
Rhaenyra's gaze sharpened instantly. "What is it?"
The master hesitated, swallowing hard before speaking. "It's Lady Laena. She has passed."
Aerion's eyes widened — Daemon's wife, and the mother of his two daughters.
That was…inconvenient.
Daemon unbound, wild and mourning, was not exactly a reassuring prospect.
And then there was the Sea Snake. Corlys Velaryon had never hidden his disdain for Aerion, not since Aerion had all but snatched the chance of the throne from under his nose.
Aerion's eyes drifted back to his children. This would be the first time they stood among the nobles.
They'd met their grandfather, of course—but only when he visited Dragonstone. They never left, not unless it was for Crow's Point.
It was foolish. He knew they should grow up around the court, learn its games and daggers hidden behind smiles.
But he and Rhaenyra had agreed. Let them be children a little longer.
He supposed that time was ending.
He glanced toward Rhaenyra. Her expression said she knew it too. A flicker of quiet grief passed between them.
Aerion tightened his jaw.
His children were growing up.
—-
"It used to be a lot easier than this." Aerion said, his brows furrowed as he looked up at his bedroom ceiling, laid comfortably in his bed.
Rhaenyra shifted against his chest, her fingers gently rubbing against his chest, her nails leaving faint white marks in their wake.
"What did?" She asked curiously.
A moment of silence passed, the only sound in the room, the faint crackling of the fire as it danced and whispered over the burning logs. The amber glow cast gentle flickers across the wooden beams above, painting soft, shifting shadows on the walls.
"Everything." He sighed.
"When we were younger?" Rhaenyra asked, a faint smile playing at her lips at the memory. Aerion's own mouth curved slightly, mention of their younger days always brought with it that strange mixture of joy and freedom, like the echo of a song long faded but never forgotten.
"We didn't have to worry about the kids then," he said, his voice laced with quiet concern. His mind was already on the funeral to come, and all the eyes that would be watching. He didn't know how the children would behave, didn't know how the others would treat them. Word was already spreading that young Aegon had taken to drink like a man twice his age.
But it was Aeran he worried for most. Would his boy fit in? Would the family see his strengths, or pick him apart for his silences, his oddities? The thought of Aeran being mocked by his own kin turned Aerion's stomach.
"He'll be fine, Aerion," Rhaenyra said suddenly, her violet eyes meeting his with quiet certainty. It was as if she'd read his mind, peeled back the layers of worry he hadn't spoken aloud, and seen straight through him like an old, familiar book.
Aerion snorted, a faint sound of reluctant amusement—but the comfort her words brought was real. She always had a way of steadying him, of quieting the storms he didn't let anyone else see.
—-
Aegon hated the way everyone looked at him, like they expected something great from him. He rolled his eyes to himself, not exactly princely, but he wasn't exactly…that.
Aemond sat to his right, the younger boy was sat with his back straight, fork and knife held with proper etiquette. Aegon couldn't help but scoff as he took a large sip of wine.
"The perfect prince" Aegon almost slurred to himself, just loud enough for his younger brother to hear.
He didn't react, as usual.
He only ever reacts to jabs about his glaring lack of a dragon.
Aegon's gaze drifted up the dining table, towards his mother and father. Despite the somber news, his father looked almost joyous. Aegon knew exactly why, the funeral meant the family would be all together.
And in particular, Rhaenyra, her brood and the ever loyal Aerion would be there.
He drained the rest of his cup.
He hated hearing about that 'perfect' family.
—-
Thoughts on this chapter?! I need feedback, please! 🤠 Also, any ideas for future conflict? Any characters you wanna see interact?