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TEN;
『 WHEN DAWN COMES 』

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ㅤ VISERYS TARGARYEN HAS DIED. I nod. Ser Harwin turns and walks through the door. I don't even hear Aemond exit the bathroom and pick up his clothes from the floor. He dresses silently. I stand still and wide eyed, staring at the place where Ser Harwin had just been. His hand rests on my shoulder. When his touch reaches me, the tears begin to well. I cry out and he takes the back of my head in his hand. He presses me to his chest and holds me tightly.

       I cry into his shirt. I do not say a word nor does he. I cry and cry until it feels like I'll collapse if I continue. He does not move. My tears wet his shirt and soak through to his skin but still, even then, he does not flinch. He strokes my hair gently, as if it may help the hurt and the pain. Finally, I stop. I cannot continue. I back away and wipe my eyes. I cannot imagine the pain my mother and father are going through now.

I take a deep breath and attempt to collect myself. "I must see my mother... And father." I manage. He simply nods.

       "I will wait for your return." He takes a seat on the edge of my bed. I make my way across the room and exit my chambers.

       The hall is silent and empty. It has never been this extent of quiet before. My first stop is my parents chambers. It is empty. I check the study. It is empty as well. Finally, I find Daemond in the courtyard sat on a bench. His head hangs low in his hands. His hair covers his eyes so I cannot see the exemptions portrayed in them. He looks up at me and blinks. I sit next to him. He follows me with his eyes.

       "I can't believe he's gone." I say. My sentence ends with a sob. I do not expect his hands to find me, but they do. He takes my shoulders and pulls me into a hug. I never hug my father. I never have. I had thought all of my tears had been shed, but perhaps those were just the beginning.

       Our hug does not last long. Daemon is not the hugging type. I look to my hands as the tears drip from my eyes and pick at my fingernails. My father looks toward the sky. His head is turned almost completely away from me, but I can see the liquid glistening in his eyes. He is not the crying type, either, but this is a special occasion.

       I see a dragon ascend into the clouds quicker than a bolt of lightning. The golden scales of Syrax seem to glow in the night. The dragon shrieks, a sound that can be heard to the edge of King's Landing. I can imagine my mother riding around on the golden dragon, raged. Viserys and Daemon are perhaps the only two people in the world who would kill and die for her, now one of them are gone. I would die for my mother, but I don't know if I could kill someone. I hope I may never have to, but that hope shrinks whenever my mind drifts to the Iron Throne. The throne is empty now, awaiting its next ruler, my mother. Though, we may very well have to go through an army to reach it.

       "Father," I say. He turns slightly but does not meet my eyes. "Do you believe Alicent and Aegon will give up the throne to my mother?" I ask. My words puff into a cloud of air in front of my face. His head bows slightly. I can tell then that his answer is no. They will not. I should have expected just as much.

"I do not." He answers simply. "I do suspect they would rather start a war than give up something that is unrightfully theres." He explains. I nod. Each time I blink I can see the face of my grandfather staring back at me; his mutated face and his missing eye. His bones hollow and his hair thin and wispy. I never truly got to know him, deep down, but my mother loved him and that tells me enough.

       The night air is cold but it compares nothing to the boiling of my blood. I cant imagine how freezing my mother is up there in the clouds. Though, I doubt she's thinking much of herself. My grandfather Viserys was one of her dearest friends and one of her only trustworthy companions. He would take her side a hundred times over, even if she was incorrect or the true answer was obviously not in her favor. He would have sacrificed anything for her.

       I imagine Aemond sitting on the edge of my bed washed in thought. I excuse myself from my fathers side and decide to go back to my chambers. The hour is late. I push open the doors. Aemond is sitting right where I had left him. He looks up at me and gestures for me to take a seat next to him. I do. I place my hands on my lap and pick at my fingernails. Stress is getting the best of me.

        A hand comes down on mine, firm yet gentle. "You're bleeding." He says. I hadn't even realized so. Startled, I look down at my hand. My thumb oozes red from a spot near my nail bed. He gets up then returns with a cloth from the bathing chambers. He pats the spot with the cloth, soaking up the blood. It isn't painful but I do hate the fact that I always manage to break skin so easy.

       "Why are the gods so cruel?" I ask. This isn't a question anyone can truly answer. He stops and places the cloth aside, having soaked up a majority of the blood.

       "The gods take as they want and we have to live with it. If they were not cruel and never allowed death the world would overflow." He says. His words make sense but I don't want to believe then. I don't want to believe that he is gone nor that we will have to enter a war in order to simply gain our rights. The Iron Throne is to be passed to Rhaenyra, and yet there will be an army standing in our way. It is unfair.

        "I've never killed a man." I admit. He tilts his head to the side.

       "You have been training for years," he says. "It will come natural as a bird in flight." I want to believe him.

        "Is it strange?" I ask. "To see a man's life slip away?" He looks down for a brief moment. I can see questions and answers turning in his head as he searches for the correct one.

        "It is strange," he admits. "But you also feel thankful because it is not you approaching death." I decide that makes sense. It's better to be the murderer than the murdered.

       "When do you think the war will come?" He asks. His eye looks up and meets mine.

       "The ruler of the Seven Kingdoms needs to take the throne at once," I say. "I believe that most likely the fleet will set sail in the morning. Meaning that by noon, there will be war." My answer seems to darken the already pitch-black chamber. I feel a slow and drawn out exhale part from his lips.

      I take his head and lead him into the bed. I climb in then he after me. We both wriggle beneath the warm blankets to keep our bodies warm. Tomorrow a war will begin. My pounding heart does not allow me to sleep even as my eyes close. I only see Viserys and fire, the fire of the war. Each time I close my eyes they flash back open as if to save me from the nightmares that await me. Aemond rests peacefully beside me. His eye is closed tightly. I watch as his chest rises and falls gently. His lips part slightly as he sleeps and his jaw clenched and unclenches, too, in slumber. His eye moves beneath the lid but does not open. I wonder what he's dreaming about, I wonder if I'm there.

       My eyes have not closed as the first signs of light begin to appear. My heart sinks as the sky becomes a painted array of color. This day will not stay beautiful for very long. Soon enough flames will burn men and smoke will billow in the air. Horses will whine, men will scream, and dragons will roar. Ships will be sunk and armor will be pierced. I sit up in the bed. My movements, though as delicate as I tried to make them, seems to have stirred Aemond awake.

       His hand presses gently to my lower back. "It is the morning already?" He asks. I nod. His lips thin into a line. He pulls himself up and sits next to me. With both stare through the doors of the balcony to the horizon behind us. The ships have not begun across the sea yet, but I suspect that it won't be long until they do.

       I get up silently and dress myself. My nightgown falls to the floor. I do not dress in something prim and proper, a frilly dress with color and exposed chest. I dress in my dragon riding armor. The fabric fits me like a melded sword. It was made especially for me, for my body. I pull on the boots and tuck the gloves away in the pocket. Aemond approaches me as I sit at the vanity and begin to braid my hair. He takes one of the sections, silently, and begins to braid next to me. The delicacy of his touch is soothing even in a time like this. Once we are finished we leave my chambers and make our way to his. He dresses into armor provided by my father. Though I hate to admit it, he looks heavenly. We exit his chambers and cross to the study.

       The doors are slightly ajar. I push them open and step inside. The entire family is already gathered. Rhaenyra and Daemon hover over the battle map, pointing at things and sharing hushed whispers. My mother sees me and stops. I approach her. She wraps her arms around me and mine around her. She strokes the back of my head and I circle her back with my hands. Not only is she under the sadness of Viserys death, but she is also under the stress of the battle that is to come. We are exhausting all of our resources on this journey. Hopefully they will not be wasted. I pray that everything works out and that my mother takes her rightful place.

       We all gather around the table. Aemond, my parents, myself, and all four of my brothers. The fleet is to break in the next hour and begin sailing towards King's Landing. Jacaerys, Aemond, and I are all to follow my mother and father on dragon back. There will be five dragons in the sky. The rest of my brothers are staying here in Dragonstone under the faithful watch of Ser Harwin, whom of which will protect them with his life if anything is to happen. Of course, Lucerys objects the plan.

       "This isn't fair!" He says. My mother looks at him with heavy eyes. I wonder how long it's been since she's received a proper night of sleep.

       "Lucerys," her tone is firm. "Jacaerys has just spent months in training. That is the only reason he is coming. You should consider yourself lucky being able to stay here." She says. He nods somberly and sulks off with my other brothers out of the room. Now there are just five of us. My father explains once again the plan of action and how we will approach the situation.

       My mother and father will fly ahead just before we arrive to try and resolve the situation with words. If they do not return within twenty minutes, the fleet will pull speed forward and the fight will begin. The rest of us on dragon back, commanded by me, will use dragon fire as a weapon. I will be in charge of two other people and two other dragons. I try not to think about that fact too much. By the time they've finished explaining things, Jacaerys points at the window. We all run over to see the first of the ships leaving. The time has come.

       Rhaenyra and Daemon make sure we've all digest the plan then pull us into a hug, not even excluding Aemond. We share a few words and prayers then the two of them take off to fetch their dragons. I stand there idly for a few moments after they've left, terrified. We're flying into what could be our death. Though I know I'll see her in the sky, I somehow convince myself that could have been my last time seeing my mother.

       "Alerhya," a voice snaps me from my trance. "Are you alright?" Aemond asks from behind me. I turn over my shoulder and offer a slight nod. He cocks his head to the side. Both of us are completely aware of my false answer.

      "Sister we must go now." Jacaerys says from beside me. I hadn't realized how much taller he got whilst he was away. He's come to fit well in his dragon riding gear. It was made for him two years ago, but he was too small and frail to fit in it then. Now he fills it out and stands with correct posture. I nearly say something about how surprised I am of this.

       He exits from the room, leaving me and Aemond to ourselves. He takes my cheek in his hand and turns my face to his. I let my head sink into his hand. His thumb runs over my cheek. He dips his head toward me and rests his forehead against mine. The blinding dawn light illuminates the right side of his face just right. His eye glows in the light and his hair seems even lighter.

       "Are you scared?" My voice is quiet.

       "There is only one thing in the entire seven kingdoms I'm scared of." He says.

       I tilt my head to the side. "What's that?"

       "Loosing you." He answers gently.

        A slight smile perches on my lips. He runs his thumb over my mouth. I wish I could always have his touch on me. Somewhere, somehow. Finally our foreheads break apart and we both know what we must do. He takes my hand in his as we begin walking out of the study chamber toward the cliffs where the dragons are to be called. The early morning wind whips our hair like it is made of silk. My eyes wander toward the ocean as we approach the cliffs. Hundreds of thousands of ships are moving through the water to one destination. I look to the sky. Two dragons fly slowly at the head of the ships. The golden scales of Syrax seem to glow over the dark blue sea.

       We stand on the edge of the cliffs. Aemond, Jacaerys, and I. We all stick our fingers in our mouths and blow as hard as we can, calling our dragons. Jacaerys' is the first to arrive. Vermax whips up from the sea as if he had been waiting. Jacaerys hops on the beast and begins flying to the fleet. Vhagar and Ghaelar appear at the same time, from the clouds. My heart races in my chest and goosebumps line my body. The beasts land in front of us. We each climb onto our dragon. I stroke the black scales of Ghaelar. He makes muffled sounds, enjoying the attention. I glance over at Aemond, who's already looking at me. He points to the fleet behind us. I nod.

       We both, at the same time, kick the dragons into motion. We direct them to the fleet and take our positions behind my mother and father, next to Jacaerys. I look below and behind us at the ships. The battle sails have been drawn.

       I try and convince myself that everything will be alright, that the throne will be given up and there will be no war. But, you cannot convince yourself of a lie whenever you already know the truth.

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