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The morning light filters softly through the thin curtains of the room, casting a warm, golden glow over the two figures still wrapped in each other's arms. Aemond lies beside Daervon, his lone eye half-lidded with lingering sleep, while Daervon, his dark hair tousled, traces idle patterns on Aemond's bare chest. The world outside stirs with the start of a new day, but within these walls, time slows to a crawl, and neither man feels the urge to move.

Daervon breaks the silence first, his voice a low, contented murmur. "I was right about you. You do know something of pleasure."

Aemond smiles lazily, his fingers still tracing those tender patterns. "I was right about you too."

"Which part?" Daervon's voice carries a teasing note. "There were a number of things."

"Every part of it," Aemond responds, his tone equally playful, but with a sincerity that lingers in the air between them.

Daervon leans in, capturing Aemond's lips in a slow, lingering kiss, savoring the taste of his lover. When they finally pull apart, a comfortable silence settles over them once more. But reality, as always, begins to intrude.

"We should return to the Red Keep," Aemond finally suggests, his voice tinged with reluctant duty. "Before anyone notices our absence."

Daervon sighs, a mix of disapproval and resignation on his face. "Must we? I'd rather stay here, in your arms, where the world can't reach us."

Aemond smiles, brushing a stray lock of hair from Daervon's forehead. "As would I. But the world will reach us all the same, and I'd rather face it together than apart."

Reluctantly, they begin the process of disentangling themselves from the warmth of the bed and each other. The soft rustle of clothing fills the room as they dress, Aemond pulling his dark tunic over his head, Daervon buckling his boots with slow, deliberate motions.

Just as Daervon reaches for his cloak, a sudden knock echoes through the door. Aemond freezes, his eye widening in alarm. For a moment, the fear of discovery hangs heavy in the air-disappointment and the weight of his mother's expectations pressing down on him.

"Must be Vidor," Daervon says calmly, a small smile playing on his lips as he walks toward the door. "He always finds me when I get 'lost.'"

Daervon opens the door to reveal Vidor, his uncle, standing there with a deep scowl etched into his features.

"Why are you here?" Vidor's voice is gruff, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene before him.

Daervon offers a nonchalant shrug. "Aren't you here too? What a coincidence."

Aemond, adjusting his cloak to hide his earlier state of undress, steps forward, his voice steady despite the tension in his shoulders. "What is the matter?"

Vidor's gaze shifts to the other cloaked figure in the room, and recognition dawns in his eyes. His expression shifts from confusion to exasperation as he realizes who Aemond is. "Seven hells, I'm not even going to ask."

"Then don't," Daervon replies with a smirk, clearly enjoying his uncle's discomfort.

Aemond's hand moves instinctively to his sword belt, but he catches himself, forcing his posture to relax. "Return to the Red Keep with Ser Vidor. I will take the tunnels."

Daervon's eyes meet Aemond's, a silent understanding passing between them. "I will see you later."

Aemond steps closer, his hand gently cupping Daervon's cheek. The touch is soft, tender, a world of unspoken emotions conveyed in that single gesture. "Avy jorrāela," Aemond whispers, the words barely audible, as if they were meant to be shared by the two of them alone. (I love you)

Daervon leans into the touch, a small smile playing on his lips. "Avy jorrāela," he whispers back, his voice filled with a warmth that melts the hardened edges of Aemond's heart. (I love you)

Aemond pulls away reluctantly, the weight of his duties pressing down on him once more. With a final glance, he disappears into the shadows, leaving Daervon alone with his uncle.

Vidor shakes his head, a mix of disbelief and amusement coloring his expression. "So much for teaching poetry. What sin have I committed for this punishment?"

"Perhaps a grave one," Daervon replies with a grin, his playful nature returning now that the tension has dissipated.

"Perhaps," Vidor chuckles, his serious demeanor crumbling as a smile breaks through.

Later that day, the Dragonpit buzzes with the usual activity of keepers and dragons alike. Daervon stands beside Rhaena, patiently awaiting for the Dragon Keepers to escort Gaelithox from his lair.

As Gaelithox emerges out of the pit, his gaze flickers over to the Red Queen, Meleys, who has just returned from a flight with Rhaenys. Daervon steps forward, extending a hand toward the crimson dragon, a smile on his face as he pets her snout.

"Grandmother," Rhaena greets Rhaenys, who has just dismounted from Meleys.

Rhaenys, ever the picture of Targaryen grace and wisdom, smiles warmly at her grandchildren. "My dearest, what mischief are you two up to?"

"Just going to take Rhaena on a ride, grandmother," Daervon responds, his hand still resting on Meleys's snout. But Gaelithox, not one to share his rider's attention, lets out a low, rumbling growl.

The Shadow Tyrant moves with purpose, his massive form casting a long shadow as he strides toward Meleys, jealousy flaring in his emerald eyes. His nostrils flare, and his jaws part as if he means to challenge the Red Queen, to assert his dominance.

"Gaelithox, lykiri," Daervon commands, stepping between the two dragons with a calm but firm voice. "Lykiri." (calm down)

The black dragon pauses, his growl tapering off into a low whine, almost like a child scolded for bad behavior. He lowers his head, nuzzling Daervon's chest with an almost pitiful sound, as if to demand his rider's undivided attention.

Daervon laughs heartily, his hand stroking Gaelithox's snout with affection. "Nyke kesīr," he whispers, pressing a kiss to the dragon's dark scales. (I'm here)

Gaelithox purrs, the deep, rumbling sound vibrating through the ground beneath their feet. The dragon's massive head presses against Daervon's chest, pleased and content now that he has his rider's full attention.

Rhaena watches the interaction with wide eyes, a hint of longing in her expression. "He was jealous."

"Once you gain a dragon's loyalty, there is nothing a dragon won't do for you," Rhaenys says, her voice a mix of pride and caution as she watches the keepers begin to lead Meleys back into the pit. "Do not worry, sweetling. You will claim a dragon one day. It is your birthright."

"I keep hearing that," Rhaena mutters, her eyes following Meleys as the dragon disappears into the shadows of the pit. But her gaze quickly shifts back to her brother, who stands with Gaelithox, the bond between them palpable.

Rhaenys steps closer to her granddaughter, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Let me tell you a secret. The best Targaryens claim their right to be a dragonrider. We simply must take the harder road, and that is what makes us special."

Rhaena nods, her expression softening as hope rekindles in her heart.

The wind whips through Daervon's hair as Gaelithox soars above the Red Keep, his massive wings cutting through the air with powerful, rhythmic beats. The sky is a brilliant blue, dotted with wisps of clouds that scatter as the Shadow Tyrant cuts through them like a blade through silk.

Rhaena clings to Daervon's back, her arms wrapped tightly around his waist. The thrill of the flight sends her heart racing, but there is a comfort in the steady, assured presence of her brother in front of her. Below, the sprawling castle and the city of King's Landing spread out like a living map, the tiny figures of people and horses moving about their daily lives, oblivious to the two dragonriders far above.

Gaelithox's piercing green eyes flicker with a predatory gleam as he tilts his wings, angling into a sharp turn that sends the world spinning around them. Daervon leans into the movement, his grip on the reins firm but relaxed, his body in perfect harmony with the great beast beneath him.

As they level out, Rhaena's voice cuts through the rush of wind. "You seem close with our cousin."

"Which one?" Daervon asks, though he knows exactly what she means.

"Aemond," Rhaena presses, her tone curious but pointed.

"We're friends," Daervon replies, though the words come out too quickly, as if he's trying to convince himself as much as her.

Rhaena's voice softens, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I've seen the way you two look at each other. That is more than simply friendship."

Daervon hesitates, his grip on the reins tightening slightly. The familiar nervousness coils in his chest, but there's also a sense of relief-Rhaena isn't accusing him only seeking the truth, The bond between them has always been one of trust and understanding, even when they were children playing in the shadow of dragons.

"Brother, we promised each other, no secrets," Rhaena reminds him gently.

Daervon sighs, the wind carrying the sound away as they soar above the city. He can't keep it from her any longer, not when she's looking at him with those earnest, trusting eyes. "I know," he admits, his voice quiet. "I was going to tell you, but.. sometimes it's better to keep quiet. Do you understand? Please don't tell anyone."

"I promise,' Rhaena says immediately, her voice filled with the sincerity of someone who would never break such a vow. "But you fancy him, don't you? Perhaps even love him?"

Daervon's silence is answer enough, and Rhaena grins, her curiosity piqued even further. "Of course you do. I want to know everything. Has anything happened yet? Did you kiss the wicked elf prince?"

Daervon's cheeks flush, the heat rising to his face despite the cool wind rushing past them. "So noisy," he mutters, trying to deflect with a bit of humor.

"Spill the beans already," Rhaena urges, her laughter light and teasing.

A sigh escapes Daervon as he gives in, the memory of the night they spent together still fresh in his mind. "Yes, we kissed. And... we made love."

Rhaena's eyes widen in surprise, her curiosity shifting to something more serious. "There's more to it, isn't there? How do a couple make love?"

Daervon's heart softens at her innocence, the protective brotherly instinct in him rising. "It is an act of love," he explains, choosing his words carefully. "More intimate and physical. It's something you'll learn in your wedding night."

Rhaena nods, a little more subdued now, though still intrigued, "I see... and you love him?"

"Yes," Daervon admits, the weight of the truth lifting from his shoulders "I do."

Rhaena smiles, resting her head against his back as they continue their flight. "I'm happy for you, brother. And I won't tell a soul. But.. No more secrets."

"Alright," Daervon agrees, a small smile tugging at his lips. His relationship with Rhaena is always easygoing. It is a comfort for him to know that she understands and accepts him.

They ride in silence for a while, the steady beat of Gaelithox's wings is the only sound between them. The Shadow Tyrant glides effortlessly above the Red Keep, his dark form casting a shadow over the castle below. His powerful wings cut through the air with a precision that belies his massive size, the beast fully in tune with his rider's commands.

As they circle back toward the Dragonpit, Daervon can feel the shift in Gaelithox's demeanor-an eagerness, a yearning to stretch his wings further, to dominate the skies as is his birthright. The black dragon's green eyes flicker with that same predatory gleam, a reminder of the raw power Daervon commands with a single word.

Daervon whispers in High Valyrian, his voice carrying the weight of their bond and he pats the dragon's neck affectionately, feeling the ripple of muscle beneath the scaled hide.

Gaelithox rumbles in response, the sound vibrating through Daervon's entire body. The dragon dips slightly, then pulls up into a steep ascent, the sudden rush of speed exhilarating as the ground falls away beneath them.

Rhaena lets out a small gasp, her grip tightening around Daervon's waist, but he only laughs, the sound carried away by the wind. Gaelithox's ascent peaks, and for a moment they hang in the air, weightless and free, before the dragon tips forward into a graceful dive. The world rushes up to meet them, the wind whistling in their ears, but Daervon feels no fear, only a profound sense of connection to the powerful creature beneath him.

Gaelithox pulls out of the dive just as they reach the rooftops of King's Landing, his wings snapping open to catch the air and level their descent. The Shadow Tyrant soars low over the city, his great wings casting long shadows over the streets below as the people look up in awe and terror at the massive dragon above them.

Daervon steers Gaelithox back toward the Dragonpit, the thrill of the flight still thrumming in his veins.

They land with a heavy thud, the ground shaking slightly under Gaelithox's weight. Rhaena's laughter bubbles up as she dismounts, her cheeks flushed with excitement. "That was amazing!" she exclaims, her eyes shining with exhilaration.

Daervon grins, patting Gaelithox's side. "He is a magnificent beast, isn't he?"

"More than magnificent," Rhaena agrees, still catching her breath. She looks up at her brother, her expression softening. "Thank you for sharing this with me, Daervon."

"Of course, my sister," Daervon replies, his voice warm with affection.

Rhaena nods, a small smile on her lips as they turn to watch Gaelithox being led back into the pit. The dragon huffs in mild annoyance but follows the keepers without protest, his massive form disappearing into the shadows once more.