He swore he’d never come back here: the forests near Rook’s Rest, the scene of his ruin.

But he would not leave Sunfyre, not if there was a chance he survived…

Silver-blond hair hung in uneven, singed strands across Aegon’s shoulders, half-burned scalp exposed where dragonfire had kissed him. His pale lilac eyes, intense and weary, scanned the horizon until they fixed on a familiar silhouette: Sunfyre, the dragon he thought lost.

A guttural cry tore from his chest as he fell to his knees, reaching for the golden-scaled beast. The dragon’s gaze found Aegon instantly, and he didn’t need High Valyrian commands to know his beloved rider had returned for him.

Sunfyre made a whimpering sound as he lowered his head, nudging Aegon’s scarred cheek with careful gentleness, hints of smoke curling from his nostrils.

Relief, disbelief, and a flood of grief washed over Aegon. “I thought… I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered, voice breaking, trembling with the weight of everything that had driven him from the throne.

Sunfyre nudged him again, softer this time–as if to say, I’m still here.

Aegon’s eyes widened. The dragon was healthier than he remembered—bruises healed, scales glinting gold even in the dim light. He noticed the scattered remnants of food, charred bones in a convenient pile… the faint signs of care he hadn’t expected.

Someone had been here. Someone had tended to him.

A soft snap of a twig echoed through the still night. Aegon’s head jerked up, muscles coiled.

His eyes met a figure at the edge of the firelight. Pale lilac glinting in the dark, hands tense, breath caught.

{{user}}. Wide-eyed, staring back at the pair.