𝓔𝓵𝓪𝓮𝓷𝓪 𝓣𝓪𝓻𝓰𝓪𝓻𝔂𝓮𝓷

I knew this place.

I've flown these skies and walked these streets, Valyria in its glory is a mere memory for me.

With only a glance to Aemond's face I realize he's petrified and after all, how couldn't he be? He hadn't held years of dreams in the back of his mind, wondering if these visions could mean life or death... I suppose they still could.

"No, Vhagar! Home!" Aemond commands, looking at me and trying desperately to hide his fear but it's I who comforts him, without being quite sure why.

Vhagar, seeming to know more than either of us lands us in the central part of the city at the remnants of a volcano, where only one building stood tall amongst the wreckage.

I'd seen this dragonetched building before, but it was a hazy memory.

Vhagar's glorious outstretched wings blow up ash and dirt around us, sending our hair into a whipping mess around our faces.

Without any warning, I move to unclasp my riding straps but Aemond takes my arm, yanking me back to the safety of his chest, "Where do you think you're going? We've not a clue what resides here, and if this place truly is habitable there could be people who live here, creatures-"

"We won't know until we take a look for ourselves. Besides, Vhagar wouldn't bring us to our death, you know that... what if she's brought us here for a reason?" 

Aemond is far from convinced, glancing back to his reluctant dragon, but regardless, my husband moves to assist, helping me unclasp the remaining straps. 

"My wife and her insatiable infliction for adventure," He smirks up at me, his delicate touch lingering at my thighs, his fingertips leaving a trail of heat in their stead.

My breath hitches and for a single moment I forget where we are, dragonback in the middle of the doomed Old Valyria, "It's a gift and a curse," I chuckle weakly, staring back up at the orange haze that's reflected in Aemond's sapphire eye as he watches me, his mouth agape slightly.

Vhagar grumbles beneath us, breaking us from our spell and bringing our attention to the skies where bird-like creatures made circles above us.

"What could those be?" I ask, more in wonder than fear but Aemond is far more interested in unclasping my riding straps, "I'd rather we stay far away, we should find cover before they decide we look good enough to eat." 

Jumping from her back I land with a thud, my ankles aching from the height I'd jumped earning an irritated sigh from my husband at my impatience, "Careful! Seven hells," he grumbles under his breath.

Ignoring him, I glance around our new destination. Most of the ground is caked in lava, stone bodies lining the streets as some faced their death in terror while others ran, their bodies cowering, forever stuck in time, but from the corner of my eye, I find something especially heartbreaking.

A taller figure and a child are huddled together, hiding behind a pillar and it nearly breaks my heart in two.

Gasping I cover my mouth and take a step back, stumbling into Aemond's hard chest.

"Wha-," He breathes, his hands grasping my arms to steady me as I trip over loose rubble, hundreds of years of emotion surging through me as though I've lived a thousand lives, feeling the loss of each soul leave this place, only to be forgotten.

Tears flood my eyes but I blink them away, my fingernails digging into Aemond's hand imagining the loss of a child, one of our children.

Rubbing them away I trek forward, the models in my mother's rooms practically a map, etched into Aemond and I's memory.

Two towering columns hold the trimmed archway where stone-carved dragons glide amongst one another, much larger and magnificent than the dragons we'd come to know in our lifetime.

"There were over 40 dragonlord families that resided here... the Targaryens were hardly considered the most powerful," I note, entranced by the intricate carvings of scales that lined every inch of the story-tall installment.

Aemond hums in agreement following me closely through the archway, timidly approaching the twenty-foot-tall stone doors, "Father believed we were outcasted for Princess Daenys' visions, and it's safe to assume the outcasts would've bonded with similar such dragons. I would find it hard to believe that Balerion was the pinnacle of his species," 

The dirt crunches beneath our feet and I focus on the simple sound as I twirl my rings about my fingers, the thick humid air bringing a sweat to my brow.

And what a coincidence it had been that Princess Daenys had also named her daughter Elaena.

My mother had burdened me with this prophecy without even realizing I would endure a similar fate.

Handing me his sword, Aemond uses all his strength to yank open the door leaving just enough space for the both of us to slip through.

My husband offers me a hand, placing his palms at my waist to lift me over the rubble effortlessly, planting me back on the hard ground.

Murals stretched up the grand staircase, leading us to the very top of what seemed to be the central building of the inner city, the colors and strokes vibrant with every color imaginable, glistening in the early sunrise.

"How? So much of it untouched by the horrors, outside these walls," I begin, walking up the stairs ahead of him but he reaches out to grab me, his grip tight around my wrist.

Spinning around to object my husband's chiseled face is already mere inches from mine.

"Keep close to me," He tells me, tucking me against his side, ever the protective husband in these unknown lands but they didn't feel so unknown to me.

I knew this place, we knew this place.

"I'm not helpless, husband." I roll my eyes, tracing my hand over the fine golden rail as I take a few extra steps ahead of him, eager to see more.

Following closely behind me, he smirks, "Never helpless, but you're unarmored and without a weapon."

This time, I smirked knowingly, yanking up my skirts to reveal the dagger I'd sometimes held at my thigh.

My husband's violet eye darkens, nibbling impatiently at his lip as he watches me withdraw my weapon.

Ignoring the drool practically dripping from his mouth I continue up the stairs, "Do you truly believe people could reside here? There's no sign of life or food that we've seen-"

"Yet. Princess Aerea disappeared for a year before she returned," He interjects, taking another step closer to me but this time I don't move away from his closeness, countering him. 

"She survived here a year,"

Aemond scoffs at my ignorance, narrowing his gaze at me, "You call what happened to her survival? Our children wouldn't believe it to be if we returned in similar circumstances,"

I cringe at the mention of our children, taking another step back to peer out the window to the wreckage below.

If we didn't heed Aegon's prophecy, Kings Landing would look much of the same as Valyria.

Just as Daenys foresaw the end of Valyria, Aegon foresaw the end of the world of men.

Clutching my black sapphire necklace I gasp, falling backward a step down the stairs as Aemond jumps to save me from a fall, my legs giving out from beneath me without so much as a warning.

"Elaena?!" He cries out, checking my eyes for any sign of sickness, holding me close in fear but I'm still reeling, my sight clouded by memories, every key moment of our lives leading up to exactly where we were now, hundreds of miles from home.

I don't want to believe it at first, that our story could be even bigger than the both of us, than the Realm itself.

"It was all for this," I mumble, tilting back my head to stare at the ceiling, crumbling from years of decay, the years that this place had waited for us.

Aemond's violet eye bores into the side of my face, trying his damndest to understand what I mean, "What was, my love?" He asks, his voice softer as he brushes the stray hairs from my face to tuck them behind my ears.

"We were meant to find this place. You were meant to claim Vhagar so she could bring us here," I tell him, my voice deathly quiet.

Aemond doesn't object, instead mulling over my words as he thinks back, both of us coming to realize that our story didn't only belong to us.

The Gods wouldn't separate us, simply because they'd woven our story from the beginning.

Slowly, my husband reaches for my face, grazing his knuckles across my cheek as a thoughtful smile tugs at the corner of his lips, our memories swirling in his eye.

"My song," He breathes, his affection for me bursting at the seams, "Has more meaning now than when we were children, hm?"

I nod, drawing my lip between my teeth to nibble at the chapped skin anxiously under the intensity of his stare.

"Then there's more to be done. We draw breath, so our story mustn't end here, not yet," He says through thick emotion, his deep voice sending a shiver up my spine.

Aemond's arm snakes around my waist, bringing me into his chest as he effortlessly holds me firmly against him.

He believed in me.

He'd always believed in me, in us.

Unable to hear much over my heavy breathing I wait impatiently, his eye darting between my gaze and my lips.

Pleading with him silently I tighten my hold on his riding coat, inching myself closer to his sculpted mouth, my intentions quite clear.

Aemond takes my face between his calloused hands, admiring me, and suddenly we're teens once more, shamelessly flirting in the gardens in secret.

I can almost taste his sweet lips when the sun rises higher in the sky, spilling through the broken windows like a magnificent golden fire. We both turn to stare at the artwork it showcases, the dragons glistening under the sunlight, and the shimmering paint unlike anything we've seen in Westeros.

Lost in the moment, a loud screech sounds from outside, startling us both.

Rushing for the window Aemond checks on Vhagar urgently, his shoulders sagging in relief when his dragon puffs out a small burst of flame, burning the webbed winged creatures to a crisp as they fall from the sky.

Just as I arrive at his side Vhagar grumbles in satisfaction, having found a small meal for herself.

The corner of Aemond's lips lifts into a smirk, watching his dragon proudly.

"She'll need her energy for the flight home," I tell him, earning a hum in agreement as we both continue up the stairs, unsure of our destination but with a new absolution of our journey.

The flight of stairs leads us to the top of the tower where hallways trail down in every direction, doors, and dust as far as the eye can see.

"Hmph, and where should we go from here?" Aemond asks, "It could take us days, months to go through all of this building alone..." 

"We're not meant to see it all," I tell him, unsure how I know but I speak with newfound confidence. 

"At least not now, not yet," 

My husband stares at me in awe, doubt evident on his face but doesn't speak on it, trusting me to lead the way from here.

Intertwining our fingers Aemond follows closely behind, these hallways a faint memory in the back of my mind.

I wish to open every door, uncover every secret before we reveal what we've found to the outside world, and then I wonder... maybe we could keep it to ourselves, what if it's only meant for the two of us alone?

Before my very eyes, the aged stone and wood are fresh and new, the footsteps and conversations of years past ringing in my ears. I glance around to find the source but the figures are blurry, wisps of memories buried within the cracks.

"What is it? Did you see something?" Aemond asks, his hand at the hilt of his sword, ready to defend us from any foe but I shake my head, placing my hand on his.

When we both turn our heads back down the corridor to continue ahead the illusion is gone like a puff of smoke, and I'm left wondering if I've ever seen anything at all.

Aemond must feel my sweaty palms, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze as we trailed on but I stopped dead in my tracks, an out-of-place smell tickling my nose.

One would think the kitchens were preparing a feast to welcome us. Freshly baked bread, and sweet vanilla lemon pastries, were only a few I could distinguish but I knew it had to be impossible.

"It can't be," I think aloud, my voice barely above a whisper but Aemond hears, cocking his head in question as he gazed down at me.

I follow the aroma, peering through open doors, searching high and low for the source but to no avail until I find a pair of tall wooden doors at the end of the corridor.

Here.

This is where I must go, this is where it's leading me.

I'd pushed my fear to the back of my mind but still, it haunted me, begging me to turn around and go back to blissful ignorance but instead, I'm urged forward.

I carefully approach the flashy gold handles and wrap my fingers around them.

"Elaena! Slow down!"

I gasp when Aemond's voice reverberates down the hallway, only now realizing how far I've wandered from him as he sheaths his sword and takes off in a sprint toward me.

Jumping away from the doors I shake my head, my sight still a foggy haze when I feel his strong hands at my waist, steering me toward him.

"Nuha vāedar, you're pale." He frowns, softly placing the back of his hand against my forehead.

I blink slowly up at him, staring at the chiseled man I called husband. Though he catches my ogling he ignores it, worried, "You look as though you've seen a ghost," 

Giggling to myself I glance over his shoulder down the hallway where I'd seen those figures just moments ago before he'd blown through them.

Narrowing his eye at me, Aemond turns to catch what I'm looking at but this time there's nothing there, only a cold empty hallway caked in dust.

"Skoriot emagon ao maghatan īlva, Elaena?"
*Where have you brought us, Elaena?"

The High Valyrian flows through his lips like the finest Dornish wines, his way of singing while he gazed up at our destination.

I couldn't tell him where I'd brought us for I still knew little, but what I knew for certain was that we were meant to see it.

Using all my strength I push open the doors, only making headway when Aemond assists, grunting with one final heave.

Once we have enough momentum the doors swing open and I practically stumble through them but Aemond catches me around the waist, holding me up.

"Seven hells..." 

At first, I assume he speaks of my clumsiness but when I go to open my mouth I'm struck silent by the contents of this out-of-place chamber.

It reminded me much of our small council chambers. A large white marble table littered with aged parchment and books took up most of the center of the room. Around the table were a handful of throne-like seats, once sparkly and enchanting but now the fine fabric was torn, just as the curtains and tapestries that hung the walls.

"What is this place?" Aemond asks quietly as if the sound of his voice could startle the mice in the cracks of stone.

The both of us peer up at the old paintings on the wall, and though strangers occupy them, they look like us, our family.

Blinking slowly, the past moves in flashes before me. 

Men sat tall at every seat around the table, their hair as pale as starlight and their eyes an even brighter violet than our own, but their meeting was anything but peaceful.

With their shouts muffled, one or two stood from their seats, their silhouettes fading as they argued amongst themselves.

"The dragonlords met here," I tell him, and when I blink once more it's gone like an old memory.

Aemond isn't sure how to react, his fingers curling around me tighter as he surveyed my face, his expression etched with concern.

I wonder for a moment if he'll believe me, after all what proof did I have to offer him?

"Is this them?" He asks, motioning toward the paintings on the wall and I nod, without having to think twice.

"Incredible..." My husband breathes, amazed.

For a moment more we're frozen in time, gazing into the eyes of those long gone and forgotten.

I take tentative steps toward the round table, but Aemond is more urgent, flipping over old swords to inspect the Valyrian steel but I'm drawn elsewhere.

At the head of the cluttered table sat a handful of trinkets, a toy dragon-like creature stood an inch or so tall atop a stack of books with similar leather binding to that of our book of songs back home.

With a gasp, Aemond is by my side in an instant, his hand at my waist, "What- Is that...?"

Familiarity flashes in his swirling violet eye but he waits for me to reach out and grab them.

I'm unsure where to start, flipping through the pages until I find diagrams and building plans labeled in High Valyrian from top to bottom.

"We'd need the maester's help translating all of this, it's so much," I tell him, running my fingers over the ink.

"Maybe, but I know building plans when I see them. Look, it was never built, they never got the chance." Aemond points to the scribbled numbers in the corner of the parchment, the year being the very same as the Doom.

A shuddered breath works its way past my lips and I reach for Aemond's hand to steady myself, my skin red hot as if I was being consumed by the very same flames on that fated day.

Was this what we were meant to achieve? 

To finish what Old Valyria had started all those years ago?

"The missing pieces from our collection," I whisper, flipping through the aged pages to absorb everything I see, but Aemond is making it exponentially harder to focus with his warm breath at my neck.

"We could rebuild this place." He begins in between hot kisses behind my ear. I want to laugh in disbelief but I'm much too occupied by his silky lips, arching my own body back against his.

"You make it sound so simple," I breathe, his deep sexy chuckle fanning across my skin. Turning to face him, he lifts me as I speak placing me gently at the edge of the table. 

Rambling on I stumble over my words, my breath hitching beneath his lips. "Th-the volcanoes are still active, all the c-culture that remains here is sacred-"

"Then we take everything home, we bring it back with us." Expertly he uses his knee to spread my legs apart, "You were born to bring the excellence of Old Valyria to Westeros, Elaena,"

Between our ragged breaths, he nibbles at the exposed flesh above my breasts, "Your sweet song that brought us here even more proof,"

Tilting my head back I parted my lips, desperate for air with my heart beating a million beats a minute beneath his mouth. 

"Ours, my prince. Our song," Eager to taste his lips I take the hem of his coat, tugging him upwards to clash our mouths together.

This kiss is passionate, reminiscent of our first months together, unsure whether it would be our last if we were to be torn asunder by the feud of our families.

His tongue swiftly moves against my own, his taste more intoxicating than a night of endless wine, leaving my head in a spin. My darkest fantasies consisted of only him, the sounds I made filling the chamber and I forget where we are.

Hiking up my skirts Aemond's touch is red hot against my cold skin, every one of my nerves heightened begging for more.

"Stunning, you are. My Elaena," He murmurs my praises between kisses, taking what he needs and I give it wholeheartedly. 

Accustomed to my many needs, my husband knows just where to touch, pressing the pad of his thumb in small circles against my pulsating clit. 

Everything he does is done urgently as if someone could walk in at any moment but we had all of Valyria to ourselves, of that much I was certain.

Squirming beneath him, the pleasure he builds draws my eyes closed. Throwing my head back Aemond sits me up instead, the mischievous twinkle in his burning eye a promise of more to come and I'm drowning in his affections, my blood burning alive beneath his callused hands.

At the complete mercy of my husband, he peppers kisses down my neck, exploring my body with one hand while he brings me close to climax with the other.

Wetting his lips, Aemond tilts up his chin with a wicked grin and I nearly finish on his long fingers right then but he pulls away from me, widening my legs to his liking.

I shudder when the cold air hits my bare center, making it painfully obvious how slick I am.

"Aemond," I beg but my plea succumbs to a desperate moan.

I can hardly contain myself as he grazes his lips down my thighs, my fingers going to his long white blonde hair to knot themselves at his scalp, guiding him to where I throbbed with arousal.

Keen to bring his Queen to heed he wastes not another moment, the tip of his tongue swirling against my tender bud, and the impossibly tight knot in my stomach is pulled tighter, the stars behind my eyes no longer only the ones that were painted on the ceiling.

Continuing his insistent assault on my clit I think he's withdrawing until he blows on me ever so gently, watching for my reaction with his hooded violet eye, glazed over with need.

My chest heaves with the deep breaths I can manage and as Aemond's gaze devours me in my disheveled state, his shoulders tense as if a switch is flipped.

His fingers dig into my skin, sure to leave a mark for days while the length of his tongue tastes all of me and I'm reaching desperately for anything to hold onto as the thundering storm of my climax climbs the hill.

"You're so close, aren't you, my love?" He teases but after our years together I see through his confident facade.

He needed me to finish for him, to know I would forever be his.

It's what got him off.

"P-Please," I beg, the pounding in my ears becoming nearly impossible to ignore, and then, sliding in first one and then two fingers Aemond brings me to the brink of ecstasy, the stars in my eyes imploding.

"So sweet," Beneath me Aemond growls in satisfaction, licking his lips to savor the taste of me that lingered on his chiseled lips, but I'm still struggling to breathe. 

He'd once told me he'd take me wherever he could have me, but I never imagined it would be here, in Old Valyria.

Once more Aemond's attention lies solely on me, his dominant hand steadily clenching and unclenching, not yet having his fill of me or I of him.

Leaning back on my elbows I hardly have the strength to beg and thankfully, Aemond closes the small space between us, tracing my lips with his fingertips.

He was so gentle, divine, and absolute in his love for me throughout our lives despite the harshness of how he treated others.

Cradling my face in his hands the corner of his lips tip up in a smile before he presses them to mine, my taste still on his tongue.

While we begin to lose ourselves in one another once more a resounding screech shakes the feeble building and when Aemond and my eyes meet, it's clear the fire we both held is instantly extinguished and we're both petrified.

"Could it be Vhagar?" I ask hopefully, fixing my skirts to jump down from the table.

Shaking his head knowingly, he takes two easy strides to the window, his jaw locked with tension. "No, I've never heard a dragon make a sound like that." 

My stomach twists, a sharp pain bringing me to my knees and I know we've overstayed our welcome.

"Elaena!" Clutching the book to my chest Aemond is by my side in an instant, sweeping me into his arms but I'm pushing away from him, stumbling to my feet.

My husband looks at me wide-eyed in utter confusion, his eyebrows narrowed in concern.

"We have to go-" Taking his hand I pull him toward the door as another screech pierces our eardrums.

This time rubble crashes around us, a large boulder from the ceiling splitting into smaller pieces where we'd just been standing and my focus locks onto the books. 

"We need to grab what we can! We may never come back-" I shout but Aemond shakes his head, scooping me up and going for the door. 

"No! We get you out alive first!" He commands, using a deep Princely tone but it hardly affects me.

Ignoring him I swipe a book or two off the table and thankfully Aemond yanks me back just in time, just missing smaller pieces of rubble to the head. 

His grip on my arm is deathly tight as another otherworldly screech fills the air, even closer than before, "Seven hells, Elaena! I made a goddamned vow to protect you with my life, don't make an oathbreaker out of me now!" He growls.

"I know! But-!"

"I SAID NOW!" He shouts, the veins in his chiseled face bulging by his sapphire as he takes matters into his own hands throwing me over his shoulder like a rag doll.

Squealing in shock, I can already feel the pressure in my temples building with my blood rushing to my head, the hallway looking far different upside down.

Aemond weaves us through different obstacles, taking the steps two at a time when the beast draws nearer, his call a guttural shrill of anger that intruders had stumbled into his domain. 

"Did you get a look at it!?" I ask, chancing a peek through a window but all I manage is a blur of black and red off in the distance through the orange clouds.

After a long silence, he finally answers as we round a familiar corridor.

"No." He lies.

Once we're down the stairs Aemond places me on my feet, drawing his sword to lead us out the front doors and Vhagar is there to greet us, well aware of the predator that's stalked us from above.

"You go first, hurry," He urges me ahead of him as he surveys our surroundings, not yet convinced we've made it out, but it isn't until my husband helps me up the ropes that I notice the trail of carcasses from where we'd landed not an hour earlier. 

At least fifteen or twenty of those webbed-winged creatures were torn bit by bit, some only mere bones left with their blood a trail of their final moments.

Frozen in shock I tighten my white knuckle grip on Vhagar's saddle who sways in unease beneath me and I finally see with my own eyes why.

Our terrifying beast emerges through the orange fog, and my heart plummets to my stomach.

His wide wingspan could easily be double that of Vhagar's, with pointed horns reminiscent of the sketches we'd seen on the walls I wondered if this was our bleeding star, our lost dragon unlike any other in our history of Westeros.

"Aemond," I muster through my trance, pointing to the carnage below.

He's only settled in behind me for a moment when he realizes what I mean to show him, the color draining from his face as he glances at the sky.

"Those things... I think she's eaten their children," 

As our impending death grows closer, the threat we face grows more apparent. 

Vhagar was no match for this dragon, that much was certain. Even the sharp, black scales of the beast served as a weapon against anything that could pierce their shell. 

It would be a miracle if we got out of this fight alive.

"Gīda, Vhagar! Gūrogon īlva lenton!"
*Calm, Vhagar! Take us home!

Aemond commands, settling his dragon before she tears her attention from the beast, taking to the sky.

Without much of a running start, the old dragon struggles to gain height and I fight the urge to turn around, tightening my hold around Aemond's waist to bury my face in his back.

This must've been what nearly killed Aerea and Balerion,

And now it comes for us.

"Don't give up on me just yet, my song." He calls out over his shoulder but just as I open my mouth to reply, a burst of flames nearly hits us. Thankfully, Vhagar is paying better attention and skillfully dodges, taking us higher through the thick cloud bank.

I can still feel the heat on my face as I turn to face our attacker and I wish I hadn't.

Valyria's protector greets us with pointed teeth and a wide-open jaw, another ball of fire spiraling uncontrollably in the back of its throat.

"AEMOND-!" I scream, unable to tear myself away from the taunting blood-red eyes that stare back at me.

"I KNOW," 

Skillfully Aemond steers us downward, avoiding absolute death at the very last moment and I thank the Gods for what seems like the millionth time this morning, praying our luck hadn't run dry just yet.

"Hold on to her, not me! The saddle, Elaena!" My husband shouts over his shoulder.

Ignoring my instinct to argue, I do as I'm told, struggling to see through the wind whipping my hair into my face.

Without warning Aemond veers to the side, his entire body weight shifting to the left to yank the reigns in the opposite direction of our pursuer and Vhagar just nearly misses the sea, gliding through the rubble sharply in such a way that we can't be followed.

The both of us turn on the saddle timidly, expecting more of a chase through the flames but the old beast hovers above the water to watch us, practically allowing us our narrow escape.

The air may be still but the distance between us and the outskirts of Valyria was petrifying.

"It doesn't follow... do you think perhaps-?" Aemond begins thoughtfully, staring back in disbelief. 

Was it trapped in the confines of Old Valyria? 

Had we traveled too far to follow?

"They'll never believe us, we'll have come home without so much as a scratch." Aemond breathes, not yet trusting our escape as he peers over his shoulder.

"They'll have to believe us," I giggle, reaching down into Aemond's pockets but he's dumbfounded, a blush coming to his face.

"We have proof,"

Holding up the leather-bound books, Aemond's jaw drops in shock and for once at a total loss for words.

My husband traces my jaw, watching me with beaming pride.

"I suppose we do," 

***

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