They landed on Dragonstone with a bone-shaking thud, Syrax's wings kicking up gusts of sea-chilled wind. Aerion blinked, his eyes watering from the sting of salt and the persistent slap of Rhaenyra's hair against his face during the flight.
The saddle leather creaked beneath him as he fumbled with the chains, the cold metal clinking against his fingers as he undid them with more haste than precision.
Rhaenyra had already slipped off the saddle with practised ease, her boots hitting the ground softly in contrast to Aerion's heavier, less graceful landing. He raked his hand through his wind-tangled hair, blinking up at the imposing silhouette of the castle looming ahead.
Dragonstone's black walls loomed, the massive carved dragons embedded in the stone seeming to snarl and roar skyward. Their eyes, unblinking and ancient, watched over the courtyard.
The air here felt different—heavier, thick with the scent of the sea and smoke.
Rhaenyra moved ahead, her gaze sharp and curious, scanning the courtyard until it locked onto a figure approaching from the main entrance. A servant hurried toward them, her breath catching as she met the princess's eyes.
"Princess," the woman gasped, dropping into a hurried bow, her voice trembling slightly as the weight of her title lingered in the cool air. "We—we did not know you were coming—"
"It is fine," Rhaenyra interrupted. "Just make sure we're not disturbed" she said, the servant nodding quickly, her eyes lingering on Aerion for a moment before she turned, bustling back into the castle.
"Do you come here often?" He asked as he stepped forward, standing next to her while he looked around the beautiful courtyard. Rhaenyra looked down at her hands as she took off her gloves, running her slender fingers through her hair before she answered.
"Not enough" she admitted, her eyes running over the courtyard. Syrax behind them, curled up gently, resting her chin on the ground below.
Rhaenyra started to walk and Aerion moved to fall into step, his gaze darting around the courtyard. She watched him closely, a small smile tugging at her lips as he looked around.
"What do you think?" She asked, her voice low, tilting her head as she eyed his reaction. He tore his gaze away from the intimidating black walls and looked at her.
"It's…certainly more intimidating than Crows Peak." He joked, though real awe was held in his tone.
"I'd hope so" Rhaenyra replied, amusement present in the small smirk on her face.
They passed through heavy oak doors, the hinges creaking in protest as they closed behind them. The halls were dim, lit only by the flickering torches set in the walls. Shadows danced on the cold stone, throwing twisting shapes across the hall.
Rhaenyra led them further inside, their footsteps echoing sharply through the empty corridors. The castle was silent, save for the distant sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs outside.
Every so often, Aerion heard what sounded like whispering, soft words being carried down the stone halls. Though when he turned his head, looking for the source he found nothing.
Eventually, they came upon the throne room, where a carved stone chair stood at the far end, its dark, jagged form almost blending into the black walls behind it.
The throne seemed to rise out of the very rock itself, as though it had always been there, a part of the castle's soul. Each jagged edge of the seat caught the light, casting long, sharp shadows that stretched out toward them like the claws of a dragon.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Rhaenyra's voice was soft, almost reverent, as she gazed at the throne. She stood beside Aerion, her expression unreadable, though a burning glint of pride flickered in her eyes.
She stepped forward, her riding boots echoing against the stone floor. Slowly, she sat onto the throne, tilting her head against the cold iron. Aerion's gaze lingered briefly on her pale neck.
"Not very comfortable, I assume?" Aerion remarked, his eyes trailing over the throne as he approached.
"Not particularly," she admitted, her eyes flicking up to meet his. There was a spark there—something deeper. Silence stretched between them as Aerion's fingers gently brushed the throne's armrest.
The seat felt cold… but it burned, and gnawed at the skin.
"How do I look?" she asked, her voice soft yet pointed. His gaze moved over her, lingering on her hands, elegantly folded in her lap, then trailing up to the curve of her throat.
She looked as though she belonged there.
"Far better than I ever would," he confessed, forcing himself to tear his eyes away. He turned toward the window, catching a glimpse of the Dragonmont beyond, though his thoughts were still on her.
"Really?" Her smirk was subtle, almost playful, as she leaned forward slightly, watching him as he stepped back from the throne, putting space between them.
"Are you looking for me to flatter you, Princess?" His tone was casual, but his glance was brief, almost avoiding her gaze as if wary of what it might hold.
"Of course not." Her lips curled into a wry smile, the faintest hint of amusement in her eyes. She leaned back against the iron, her posture relaxed, but her attention remained sharp, following him as he moved.
Aerion wandered throughout the room, his fingers trailing over the rough, jagged stone walls. The coldness of the space pressed in on him, its weight almost tangible, like a presence clinging to the air.
When his eyes returned to her, she was leaning back on the throne, flickering torch light casting shifting patterns across her face.
She looked untouchable—yet there was a tension between them that he couldn't ignore. For a brief moment, he let himself stare, appreciating the way the light played across her skin.
Though she quickly caught his gaze, and held it, her eyes glinting with challenge, as if daring him to admit what was on his mind.
Rhaenyra tilted her head just slightly, her lips parting as though she might say something, but she didn't. She let the tension hang, the unspoken words pressing between them.
Then, slowly, she stood, the movement deliberate. "I still need to give you your gift," she said, breaking the spell with a quiet, lingering smile.
"I thought this was my gift?" he asked, raising a brow as he glanced around the room.
"What?" Her smirk deepened, almost predatory. "My presence?" she teased, her voice dropping just enough to make him wonder.
"I wouldn't have objected," he replied, his voice quieter now, the admission hanging in the air between them. Rhaenyra's smirk lingered, her eyes never leaving his as she stepped closer, just enough to close some of the distance between them.
"You wouldn't have objected?" she repeated softly, her tone teasing yet low, as if testing the weight of his words.
She tilted her head slightly, studying him with that same unwavering gaze, a challenge hidden behind her composed exterior. "Flattering me now, are you?"
She let a silence hang for a moment longer, the tension between them palpable, before her lips curled into a half-smile, something softer but still guarded.
Her hand reached down into a large pocket, Aerions eyes following the movement curiously,
The torchlight flickered across her face as she revealed what she had been concealing from beneath her leathers—a sleek Prince's circlet, a shimmering dark silver, polished to a soft gleam.
Aerion's eyes narrowed slightly, drawn to the intricate design as she held it. The band was slender, but not simple—engraved with winding patterns that seemed to twist like dragon scales, but interwoven with the subtle flow of tree roots.
At the centre of the circlet, a small diamond shaped amethyst caught the light, the stone, faintly glowing as if alive. Aerion's breath caught for a moment as he stared at it, the subtle purple gleam reminiscent of the dreams and visions that haunted him.
It almost looked like the eye of a dragon.
"I had this made for you" Rhaenyra said softly, stepping closer as she raised the circlet toward his head. "It suits you—Brightflame." Her voice lingered on the name, a shiver running down his spine.
He swallowed, his throat feeling oddly tight as he eyed the circlet, the gift. He slowly, but reverentially bowed his head as Rhaenyras hands approached. Her fingers carefully set the circlet upon his brow, the coolness of the steel sending a chill through him.
"It's perfect," he softly said, his hand brushing the cold metal of the band. Rhaenyra's smile deepened, a flicker of something unreadable in her gaze, as though the gift meant more than what words could express.
"Good" she whispered, her voice barely audible, before stepping back, her eyes never leaving his. "You look like a Prince" she softly said, an unrecognisable glint in her lilac eyes.
Aerions lips parted as if he was about to speak—
ROAR!!
—A furious, ground-shaking roar echoed through the castle, reverberating off the ancient stone walls. Aerion's eyes widened in shock as he turned toward the window above the throne.
CRASH!!
A deafening explosion shattered the air as a dragon burst out of the Dragonmont. Its form erupted through rock and earth, sending debris cascading in a cloud of dust and ash.
—-
Sorry for late update! I've been super busy
50th chapter so you know it had to be big!! Let me know what you guys think!