Chapter 23.

Hello there, my lovely degenerates ~

What's this? A new chapter? So fast? What a plot twist ~

Yeah, I had this one already edited and ready to go in my drafts, and I originally planned to release it on the weekend, but what the hell, I want to spoil my dear readers a little bit. Just don't get used to it ~ 

And a quick note about the last chapter—I just want to make it clear that this it's not a phase, guys! You just don't get Aemon!

Lol, anyway, enjoy the chapter!

Don't forget to send me some stones and leave a review. It not only helps with visibility but also keeps me motivated to write more!

~~O~~

Rhaenyra Targaryen, 111 AC.

Weeks had passed since the annihilation of the Triarchy Fleet, sending shockwaves across the realm. Those who had aligned themselves with the Triarchy cursed the gods when they learned of the disaster, particularly when they heard of the twins' role in the victory. Corlys and Daemon ensured that the news spread swiftly, not only to rally support from the people but also to demonstrate their strength to their enemies. In Westeros, especially in the capital where the twins were practically worshipped, the people were ecstatic. They sang praises for the duo, particularly Aemon, who was said to have led the strike.

Yet, not everyone rejoiced in the twins' newfound fame. Otto Hightower, the King's Hand, was reportedly more irritable, prone to fits of anger in recent days. But these matters did not concern Rhaenyra at the moment.

Since the battle, she had tried repeatedly to reach Aemon, to talk to him and understand what was troubling her brother. But he always found an excuse to avoid her, claiming to be too busy, always deep in discussions and plans with Daemon, who, much to her surprise, he was gradually growing closer to. But today, she'd had enough. If Aemon didn't want the gentle approach, fine—she would take the hard way.

~~O~~

The night was still, with only the soft creaking of the ship and the distant lapping of waves against the hull breaking the silence. The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silver glow across the deck where Aemon stood, staring out at the dark expanse of water. His thoughts were tangled, a mess of emotions he could barely make sense of.

Rhaenyra approached quietly, her violet eyes catching the moonlight, making them glow with an almost ethereal light. Her silver hair cascaded down her back like a river of molten metal, shimmering in the night. She wore simple leather pants and a red silk shirt that accentuated her slim but athletic build. She didn't want to make herself too comfortable when they were so far from home and wanted to be ready should any problems arise. She noticed Aemon turning to look in her direction, his eyes lingering on her figure for a few seconds before he turned away, a bit embarrassed, trying to regain his cold demeanor. It pleased her to see that she could still evoke such a shy reaction from him, showing her that her stupid brother was still there somewhere.

"Aemon," she called softly, her voice cutting through the silence. Her deep violet eyes locked onto his purple ones. For a moment, she was mesmerized by them, as she always had been. They were striking, almost hypnotic in their intensity, but now they held a hint of something that unnerved her. Despite everything, he was still achingly handsome, but there was a hollowness in his gaze that made her heart ache.

"Aemon, we need to talk," she pressed, her voice firm but laced with concern. "What's going on with you?"

Aemon looked away, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "It's none of your concern, Rhaenyra."

Rhaenyra's temper flared instantly. "None of my concern? What the hell are you talking about? Why are you being such a brat with me out of nowhere?" She was genuinely confused by his sudden change in personality. Yes, they were going through hard times, and the puberty and hormones were a bitch, but she could still mostly keep them at bay—after all, she had been an adult in her past life. Sometimes it was very hard to control her emotions, much harder than in her past life as a teen. 'Perhaps it's something to do with our Targaryen bloodline,' she mused often. But still, Aemon's change was too abrupt—he had just one day decided to close himself off from the world and keep his distance.

'Is this some kind of chuuni phase? Or is it emu that the foreigners called? Emo? Something like that?' she questioned herself silently as she stared at her brother. If Aemon could read her thoughts, he might very well vomit blood.

She dismissed the thought for now as she got closer to him and pressed on angrily. "Talk to me!" She saw his expression contort a little and seized the opportunity, using something she knew he was too weak to resist. She gently grabbed his hands, looked deeply into his eyes, and said slowly, with the gentlest voice she could muster, "Please…"

She didn't feel good about manipulating him and using her acting skills against him, but extreme situations required extreme solutions. She would apologize to him later, but for now, she watched his cold expression slowly melt away as he began to speak quietly, his voice low and strained.

Aemon let out a long, weary sigh and gestured for her to stand beside him. "You always know when something is wrong," he said, his voice tinged with bitterness he could not hide. "Even when I try to hide it."

Rhaenyra stood beside him, so close that their shoulders touched. She reached out, her fingers brushing against his hand, a gesture of comfort and solidarity. "You don't have to hide anything from me, Aemon. We've always shared everything, haven't we?"

Aemon's eyes flicked to their hands, her touch warm and reassuring. But instead of easing his mind, it only deepened the chasm within him. He swallowed hard, his throat tight with the words he had kept buried.

"Rhaenyra," he began, his voice barely above a whisper, "have you ever wondered what it means to be Valyrian? What it truly means?"

She looked at him, puzzled by the question. "We are the blood of Old Valyria," she replied softly. "We are the descendants of dragonlords, the rulers of fire and sky."

"But are we still human?" Aemon's voice was strained, as if he were wrestling with something far larger than himself. "When I burned those ships, when I watched those men die… I felt nothing. No guilt, no sorrow. Only… relief. I reveled in it, Rhaenyra. And that frightens me."

"But should it be like that?" Aemon's voice broke, and he turned to her, his eyes filled with a desperate need for answers. "Shouldn't we feel something? Shouldn't we be horrified by the lives we've taken? Or is that what it means to be Valyrian—to be above such things, to be… inhuman?"

Rhaenyra felt a pang of sorrow for him, for the torment she saw etched in his handsome features. She had always admired his strength, his resolve, and purity, but now she saw the cost of that strength. She saw the toll it was taking on his soul.

"I don't know," she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "I don't know if we should feel guilt or if we're even capable of it. But I do know that you're not a monster, Aemon. I see the pain in your eyes, the struggle. That alone tells me that you are still human, no matter how much the blood of the dragon flows through your veins."

But contrary to her expectations, he dismissed her and said, "How can you be sure that I'm not a monster? You've seen what I did back there, and I could feel the disgust in your eyes when you looked at me. Perhaps you should keep your distance, for your own safety."

Her expression hardened, a flash of anger crossing her features. "What the fuck is wrong with you? Is this why you kept your distance?" she snapped, taking a step closer. "You can't seriously think the answer to your questions is closing yourself off and keeping a distance from me."

Aemon didn't respond, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his turmoil. Rhaenyra wasn't having any of it. She closed the distance between them again and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him down to her eye level. "Do you take me for a fool? For a weakling?" she demanded, her voice fierce. "Do you want me to beat your ass like when we were younger? Get your shit together, stop whining like a fucking child, and let me help!"

Aemon was taken aback, his eyes wide with surprise. Rhaenyra had never cursed at him like this, never been so brutally direct. But he could see the worry in her eyes, the pain behind her anger. She wasn't just furious—she was scared for him.

"I know you're hiding something," she continued. "I know you better than you know yourself. Cut the crap and spill it out." She was certain there was something else going on—it wasn't simply some philosophical bullshit that was making Aemon act so strangely.

He let out a shaky breath, the walls he had built around himself beginning to crack. "I've been having terrible nightmares," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Ever since Mother's death, they've been getting worse. And there's a figure in them… this… presence. It talks to me, luring me, telling me that if I use my powers, I can keep everyone safe, I could protect you."

Rhaenyra's eyes narrowed, and before he could react, she smacked him across the head—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to jolt him. "And you fucking believed it? What's the matter with you?"

Her fury rose. They lived in a world full of strange and supernatural things, and Aemon, more than anyone else, should have known better than to trust some shady, unknown entity. He had taken the bait and listened to whatever it was, isolating himself from those who cared about him.

"Do you have any idea how fucking stupid you sound right now?" she continued, her voice harsh and unforgiving. "You have me. You are not alone, Aemon, so why the fuck are you acting like you are?"

Aemon rubbed the back of his head, wincing. "I didn't believe it, not really," he said defensively. "I thought… maybe I could use the power for good, for us. I wouldn't succumb to it. But I didn't want to drag you with me. I don't want you to be consumed by this with me." He genuinely believed that perhaps he could use this power to wipe out their enemies so that Rhaenyra could be safe and love freely. And the figure in his dreams? He was confident he could just use him until it was no longer necessary, that he could manipulate things in their favor without succumbing to it.

"That's why? That's why you've been avoiding me this whole time?"

He tried to look away, but she grabbed his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Don't you dare look away. I'm not done with you," she growled, her face contorting with an anger he had never seen in her before as she began to barrage him with insults.

"You insufferable, ungrateful, arrogant, stupid brat! Do you really think this would bring me happiness?"

She stared at him fixedly, trying her best not to beat the shit out of him yet as she continued.

"That my brother, the only fucking thing left for me in this godforsaken world, sacrificing himself for me, would bring me any joy? How can you be so naive and stupid?!"

She yelled at him, her anger slowly changing to grief and indignation as she continued.

"You are my only hope and reason. If I lose you, I will have nothing else left. Why can't you fucking understand that?!"

Those words were not only for Aemon but also for her past self. She still remembered the harsh words Ruby had once said to her, and now, she was saying the same things she wished she could have told her past self to Aemon.

Her voice was strained and cracking, and Aemon could see her eyes beginning to grow misty.

'I've hurt her…' he thought, feeling pain and shame wash over him.

It finally dawned on him that she was right, as cold realization washed over his body. He had been changing, and not for the better. He had let this darkness creep into his soul, and he hadn't even noticed it until now.

Seeing the shift in his expression, Rhaenyra seized the moment, grabbing his face with both hands and forcing him to look at her. "If you ever pull this shit again, I'll make sure you regret it. You're not a monster, Aemon. You're my brother, and you will get through this. But if you try to push me away again, I'll make your life a living hell. Do you understand me?"

He could see a pair of dark, abyssal-like stars staring deeply into his soul. She wasn't threatening him; she was promising him that.

"Remember what I've told you before, Aemon," she said firmly, her violet eyes boring into his. "We must control these powers, not let them control us. You've been avoiding nearly everyone for weeks. You've been avoiding me for days..." Her voice softened at the end, the pain in her words cutting through him more deeply than any blade could.

Aemon felt a surge of emotion, a mix of guilt, shame, and something else—something that felt a lot like relief. He had been drowning in his own mind, but Rhaenyra was his anchor, pulling him back from the abyss. He covered her hands with his own, his grip firm but gentle. "I'm sorry," he whispered, feeling his eyes grow hot, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn't mean to push you away. I was… scared."

Rhaenyra's gaze softened, and she leaned her forehead against his. "I know," she whispered back. "But you don't have to do this alone. I'm here, Aemon. I've always been here."

She grabbed his hands again, squeezing them tightly. "Now, promise me you won't do anything stupid like this again," she demanded, her voice firm.

Aemon hesitated for a moment before nodding. "I promise," he said, his voice earnest.

Rhaenyra searched his eyes, looking for any sign of deceit. Satisfied with what she saw, she nodded and released his hands. "Good. And don't forget, you still owe me for that stunt you pulled."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Aemon's lips. "I'll make it up to you," he promised, his voice lighter.

"You better," she warned, though there was a hint of playfulness in her tone now. "Now, tell me more about this figure in your dreams," she urged softly, her violet eyes searching his for answers.

Aemon sighed, closing his eyes briefly as he gathered his thoughts. "It's hard to describe," he began slowly, his voice tinged with unease. "It wasn't like a person, not really. More like a presence, a shadow without form, but with these eyes—cold, golden eyes that reminded me of Vermithor's. They were the only thing I could see clearly."

Rhaenyra nodded, her expression serious as she absorbed his words. "And how did it make you feel? When you let those powers in?"

Aemon hesitated, his brows furrowing as he tried to put the sensation into words. "It was… intoxicating," he admitted, a note of guilt in his voice. "Like nothing I've ever felt before. When I let those powers take control, it was like I was no longer just myself—I was something more, something greater. I felt like a living dragon, like Vermithor and I were one and the same. There was this incredible freedom in it, this raw, untamed power, but it was also terrifying. Because the more I embraced it, the less human I felt."

Rhaenyra listened intently, her own thoughts churning as she processed his confession. "I've felt it too," she said quietly, her tone measured. "But for me, it was different. I could feel the power, the same twisted desires, but I was able to keep them at bay, to control them. Maybe it's because I've been through more—seen more. In my past life, I experienced things that hardened me, made me more resistant to that kind of emotions. But they're still there, lurking, waiting for a moment of weakness."

Aemon looked at her, a mix of admiration and concern in his eyes. "Do you think that's why you're able to control it better? Because you're more… experienced?"

"Maybe," Rhaenyra mused, her gaze drifting to the horizon. "Or maybe it's because I'm older, mentally, or because I've faced similar emotions before. But that doesn't mean I'm immune to it. We both need to be careful, Aemon. These powers… they're dangerous, and if we're not careful, they could consume us."

Aemon nodded slowly, her words resonating with him. "We need to figure out how to control them better. How to remember what we were like before, and not let these powers change us."

Rhaenyra's eyes brightened with resolve. "We'll do it together," she said firmly. "We'll meditate, focus on who we are without these powers, and get used to them slowly. We'll spend days, weeks or months if we have to, until we've mastered them."

Aemon felt a surge of hope at her words. "Together," he repeated, a small smile tugging at his lips. It was a simple word, but it carried so much weight, so much promise.

And so, they began. Whenever they had time, they would fly away and retreat to a quiet place, sitting cross-legged across from each other, eyes closed in deep concentration. They meditated, searching for that part of themselves that existed before the war, before the powers. It was difficult at first—Aemon's thoughts were often chaotic, the violent, fiery urges bubbling to the surface whenever he let his guard down. But Rhaenyra was there, her presence a calming force that helped him keep those impulses in check.

Days passed, and slowly but surely, Aemon began to notice a change. The more he meditated, the more he practiced with Rhaenyra, the more he could feel his powers responding to his will rather than the other way around. And something else—something unexpected—started to happen. When they used their powers together, Aemon noticed that the fiery, destructive thoughts that usually plagued him were more tamed, more controlled. It was as if Rhaenyra's presence softened the edges of his anger, making it easier to direct his power without losing himself to it.

Rhaenyra noticed a change in herself as well. The icy, cruel thoughts that sometimes surfaced when she used her powers were easier to dismiss when Aemon was with her. His warmth, his fire, seemed to melt the coldness inside her, allowing her to remain in control. And more than that, they both began to realize that their powers were stronger when they were together, as if they resonated with each other, amplifying their strength.

"This is more than just control," Rhaenyra observed one evening after a particularly intense sparring session. "It's like our powers are connected somehow, like they're two halves of a whole. When we're together, it's easier to resist the darkness, easier to stay in control."

Aemon nodded in agreement, his mind racing with the implications. "Maybe it's because we're meant to balance each other out. Your ice and my fire—they temper each other. Alone, we're vulnerable, but together… together, we're stronger."

They both fell silent, the weight of their discovery settling over them. It was a sobering thought, but also a comforting one. They weren't alone in this. They had each other, and that made all the difference.

"From now on," Rhaenyra said decisively, "we will only use these powers when we're together or in case of an emergency. We can't afford to lose control, not with so much at stake, especially considering the mental and physical toll those powers take on our bodies. The backlash is no joke."

Aemon agreed, a sense of peace washing over him. "Together," he repeated, this time with conviction. They were stronger together, and as long as they had each other, they could face whatever challenges lay ahead. The figure in his dreams, whatever entity it was—none of it mattered as long as Rhaenyra was by his side.

The future was uncertain, and the path ahead was fraught with danger, but for the first time in a long while, Aemon felt a glimmer of hope. They would face whatever came their way.

In that shared moment, both of them silently resolved, ''Let's use this war to harness these powers and gain a deeper understanding of them.''