Baelor & Aenar

He ran, lungs burning as the searing heat licked at his heels, flames roaring through the forest like a living, hungry beast. Every breath felt like swallowing embers, the smoke stinging his throat.

The trees cracked and groaned around him, ancient trunks succumbing to the inferno, their leaves curling into ash. Heat pressed against his back, chasing him, devouring everything in its path.

Then his eyes shot open. His breath stuttered as he focused on the dark ceiling above him, heart pounding wildly in his chest. He forced himself to take steady, calming breaths.

Rhaenyra, resting against his chest, stirred slightly, her eyes fluttering open. She looked at him sleepily, the sunlight streaming through the window casting a soft glow over her pale skin.

"Dreams?" she murmured, her voice thick with sleep as she nestled her head into his neck. Aerion hummed, adjusting his arm around her.

"Yeah," he whispered, knowing she understood. His dreams were often warnings—of fire, war, and doom—but their deeper meanings and warning were hard to see.

He gazed up at the intricate paintings on the ceiling, large, colourful dragons flying around one another. His fingers absentmindedly stroked through Rhaenyra's silver hair, her presence a soothing balm to his frayed nerves.

With his other hand, he rubbed his jaw, feeling the stubble, he would need to shave soon. Rhaenyra shifted again, drawing his attention back to her, when—

The door burst open. A silver-haired boy vaulted onto the bed, landing with a wide grin. Aerion groaned, closing his eyes as the moment of peace vanished.

Rhaenyra's eyes snapped open, her patience slipping as a sharp hiss escaped her throat. She narrowed her gaze at the boy who had jumped directly onto her leg.

"Baelor!" she scolded, pushing herself up slightly.

"I—I didn't mean to!" Baelor exclaimed, wide-eyed. At seven years old, he was a whirlwind of energy, his dark purple eyes brimming with mischief.

"I'm sorry, Muña, I tried to stop him." Aenar stood hesitantly at the doorway, his own silver hair catching the light. At six, he was the quieter of the two, with observant eyes that missed nothing.

"It's not your fault, Aenar," Aerion muttered, casting a tired glance at his youngest.

He turned his gaze back to Baelor, who was standing awkwardly on the bed, his earlier excitement deflating. "Apologise."

Baelor sighed. "I'm sorry, Muña" he mumbled, staring down at the blanket.

Aerion leaned back against the pillows with a sigh, the lingering images of fire flickering in the corners of his mind.

"I know you didn't mean to, but you must be more mindful sweetling" Rhaenyra said softly but firmly, her lilac eyes still slightly narrowed from the pain.

Baelor nodded, suitably chastised, standing awkwardly as if unsure what to do next.

Aerion snorted, grabbing the boy's ankle with a quick tug. Baelor let out a startled shout as he toppled onto the bed, limbs flailing. 

"If you insist on pouncing, Baelor, at least learn to land with some dignity" Aerion teased, the smirk on his face taking the edge off the reprimand.

Rhaenyra raised an amused eyebrow, her earlier pain fading into a playful smile. "Perhaps your father should teach you how to fall with some more grace" she quipped, giving Aerion a side glance.

Baelor giggled, scrambling back up to sit between them, his previous tension replaced by the easy laughter of a child. "I'll get it next time, Muña," he promised, eyes gleaming with mischief again.

Aerion eyed Aenar, who still stood by the doorframe, half-hidden as he watched them with his dark purple, almost black, eyes.

"Come," Aerion beckoned, his voice gentle. Aenar hesitated for a brief moment before walking over with a calm, measured pace, though there was a slight, excited bounce in his step.

Rhaenyra shifted slightly to make room as Aenar climbed onto the bed with far more caution than his brother. He nestled beside his mother, his small hand clutching the edge of the blanket as his gaze darted between his parents and Baelor.

"Did you sleep well?" Aerion asked, his tone softening even more. Aenar nodded, resting his head against Rhaenyra's side, the tension easing from his tiny frame.

"I had no dreams," Aenar murmured, eyes half-closing as he relaxed.

"That's good," Rhaenyra said, brushing a hand through his silver hair. Aerion's eyes met hers, a flicker of concern passing between them.

"I had a dream!" Baelor suddenly exclaimed, his voice bright with excitement. Aerion felt a smile tug at his lips, knowing his eldest son's dreams were often filled with wild, innocent imaginings.

"I saw a dragon dancing! And it shot another dragon with a crossbow!" Baelor eyes gleamed with joy as he recounted the dream, bouncing slightly. "And I was on a boat!" he added with wonder, his voice quieter.

The smile faded from Aerion's face, his heart sinking. He exchanged a loaded glance with Rhaenyra.

Another dream of dragons fighting dragons.

Bad omens.

A moment of silence passed as Aerion shifted and propped himself up against the headboard. 

"Come, let's take the boys flying today," Rhaenyra said, her eyes on his, both the boys looked up, excited with gleaming eyes. 

"A day in the skies will clear your mind. You can't dwell on dreams forever." Rhaenyra whispered, Aerion giving her a grateful nod in return.

—-

"Wow!" the young silver-haired boy shouted, arms spread wide as his laughter rang out, breathless with excitement. The boy looked downwards and eyed the blanket of clouds below in awe. 

The wind whipped through Baelor's silver hair as they soared, the vast skies stretching endlessly around them. His small body pressed against his father's chest, securely fastened in the saddle, yet his heart raced with the thrill of flight.

Out of the sea of clouds below, Syrax emerged in a golden shimmer, her wings cutting through the mist with graceful power. Gaelithox let out a low warble in greeting.

Baelor let out another cheer, his voice rising above the roar of the wind as Gaelithox tilted slightly to the side, giving him a better view of Syrax. Rhaenyra, atop her dragon, waved, her silver hair streaming behind her like a banner as they ascended higher into the sky.

Aenar rode alongside his mother on Syrax. His younger son's expression was calmer, but his eyes were wide with wonder as he watched the world fly by beneath them. 

Aerion smiled at his children's joy. For a moment, the worries that had clouded his mind faded, replaced by the simple thrill of flying. 

Baelor's laughter filled his ears, a welcome reprieve from the grimness of his earlier dreams. He glanced over at Rhaenyra, who gave him a knowing smile, her eyes alight with the same joy their son was experiencing. 

"Faster, Father!" Baelor shouted, his hands gripping the saddle tightly. Aerion chuckled, leaning forward slightly as he gave Gaelithox the signal.

The dragon responded instantly, diving through the air with a sudden burst of speed. The wind whipped past them, the clouds below blurring. Syrax followed suit, Rhaenyra's laughter mixing with Baelors as they raced through the sky.

They flew together, weaving between clouds. The sky was theirs, and for a fleeting moment, it felt like nothing could touch them up here.

Eventually, the dragons slowed and coasted lazily above the clouds. Baelor leaned back against his father's chest, his earlier excitement giving way to contentment as they basked in the freedom of the skies.

As if sensing something, Gaelithox let out a low, rumbling growl. Aerion's grip tightened on the reins, his heart pounding as a shadow suddenly passed over them.

He looked up, and his breath caught in his throat.

Above them, far in the distance, a massive shape was moving through the clouds. A dragon—much larger than Gaelithox or Syrax—its dark wings blotting out the sun for a brief moment as it passed.

"Rhaenyra!" Aerion called out, his voice carrying an unusual edge of panic as he felt Baelor shift uneasily against his chest. 

His heart pounded as Rhaenyra turned, her eyes narrowing as she saw the source of his alarm. Without hesitation, she guided Syrax into a steep dive, plunging through the clouds toward the ground.

Away from the beast, and towards Dragonstone below. 

Gaelithox, unprompted, let out a deep, regal roar, the sound reverberating through the sky, sending ripples through the thick clouds.

But it was the other dragon—massive, ancient, and fearsome—that Aerion couldn't tear his eyes from.

The Cannibal.

"Gaelithox, we need to leave!" He shouted in High Valyrian over the roaring winds. Gaelithox let out a deep warble as the dragon eyed its sire with hatred, a deep primal hatred that Aerion could sense pouring from his friend. 

"Gaelithox" He snarled as he felt Baelor shift uneasily once more. "We will not fight with my son here!" 

Gaelithox snapped at the air, his scarred visage clearly furious but compliant as they turned, rushing towards the Dragonmont. The safety of Dragonstone quickly approaching.

—-

"It's been out a lot recently," Rhaenyra said as they ate slowly, the sounds of their children arguing in the background as Aerion cut into a succulent piece of roasted duck.

"It has," Aerion replied, concern creeping into his voice as he met his wife's gaze. They were seated in a small private dining room within the sprawling Royal wing of Dragonstone. 

This wing felt more like a villa than part of a castle, complete with its own gardens, nearly a dozen chambers, and elite guards trained to protect its entrances.

"It's getting too close to the castle" she said as she ate herself, keeping an eye on the children as they bickered. 

"It won't attack, not with Gaelithox here" he said seriously, he knew that was true. 

"Gaelithox and Syrax are young and untested. The Cannibal may decide to challenge them" she said, a hint of concern in her tone as she eyed him. 

"Gaelithox is big enough to cause damage to him" Aerion said seriously, they all knew what the cannibal was, a scavenger. "And The Cannibal cannot afford to be injured, not with his diet."

Rhaenyra considered his words, her brow furrowing slightly as she absently pushed her food around her plate. "True, but that doesn't make it any less dangerous. We cannot afford to underestimate it"

Aerion leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as he watched her. "Its reputation is built on fear. The Cannibal is more bluster than bite—he thrives on the scraps of weaker dragons."

Baelor's laughter erupted, momentarily breaking the tension as he playfully shoved Aenar, who retaliated with a squeal of protest. Rhaenyra's lips quirked into a small smile, but her gaze remained troubled.

"Perhaps," she replied, her voice softening as she turned her attention to their boys, "But what if he sees our dragons as a threat?"

Aerion reached across the table, placing his hand over hers. "Gaelithox is fierce, and loyal, he is too big a threat for The Cannibal to risk fighting"

Rhaenyra sighed, her expression a mix of admiration and worry. "You have faith in him, don't you?"

"Of course I do," Aerion replied, his voice firm. Yet, his eyes wandered to a nearby window, eyeing the thick clouds outside. 

In the recesses of his mind, doubts began to gnaw at him. What if The Cannibal did get desperate, got hungry enough to forget restraint, to push worry of injury to the side. 

The thought chilled him, but he shook it off.

He's just a scavenger

—

Officially this fic is now 100,000 words long, the longest story I've ever written!