๐ค. DRAGONS WROUGHT OF STONE LIKE GARGOYLES PERCHED AT THE HIGH TOWERS OF THEIR ANCESTRAL SEAT. The sea sends its fog creeping inland, whilst the cavern gathers dusk unto itself, swallowing the fickle torchlight. It has long lain barren. Nevermore does wingbeat trouble the waves, nor will ember breath stir the mountain's heart. The castle endures still, as the works of men are oft wont to do. He does not uphold the faith, but it feels a blasphemy, that. โ No, it was not. โ Aerion steps behind her, words in Valyrian a purr from his throat, โ They were the last creatures in this world who understood us. โ There are nights, more than he would ever confess, when he is certain he hears them, still. He awakens from those dreams with his heart unmoored. โ We should have never locked them in crypts to appease the cowardice of lords and the prayers of fools. โ
Her question lingers thereafter. Because dragons fare not in captivity, he thinks. A dragon should not be alone. Daenora is loath to roam the shores of Dragonstone, as she is loath to be here at all; the damp walls bode not well with his lady wife. More falcon than dragon, that one. At the Red Keep, Visenyaโs company had become a poison he could scarce be without. Such an admission would never slip his tongue, so he turns to her and, with faux amusement, says instead, โ To Dragonstone? I prefer you where I can see you. My uncle is soft-hearted with his hostages, as you well know. โ A jest, and they both know it. Another step forth, and he takes Visenya's hand in his own, and both upon the stone. Her pulse thrums with his, entwined, in tandem with the island. His chin lies in the crook of her neck, voice a murmur lost to the waves outside, โ In soothe, I thought you might like to see it with me. โ
