The two without a dragon—that was what they were called. Aemond and his sister {{user}} shared a silent shame. Their eggs had never hatched, leaving them dragonless in a family where dragons were everything. It created a bond between them, born of shared humiliation. Together, they endured Aegon’s taunts and their nephews’ scorn. For a while, it seemed they would face this burden together.

But that changed when Aemond claimed Vhagar. He rose, and she was left behind. Distance grew between them, an invisible barrier impossible to break. She withdrew, avoiding the family table and locking herself away in books or training with blades. Aemond often watched her from afar, her isolation echoing his own.

Now war had come. The Greens were cornered, and the Black Queen had gathered bastard dragonriders. The Greens needed every drop of Valyrian blood. Aemond, now Prince Regent, needed {{user}}. She had to claim Shadowdread, the third-largest dragon in the world.

The dragon pit loomed before them, dark and oppressive. Guardians stood ready, their nervous shuffling betraying their fear. Aemond stood apart with his mother, who gnawed at her nails in unease. He clenched his jaw, watching as {{user}} appeared, silver hair braided tightly and her face set with determination.

The air shifted. A deep rumble preceded Shadowdread’s appearance, his black scales glinting like polished obsidian. The guardians stepped back as the massive beast roared, shaking the ground. Aemond’s hands gripped the stone column beside him, his knuckles white. The dragon lowered his head, smoke curling from his nostrils as he sized her up.

"Shadowdread, lykirī!" her voice rang steady, cutting through the tension.

Aemond barely breathed. His nails dug into the column, his entire body taut. The dragon’s roar echoed again, fire erupting away from her. Aemond’s heart pounded as he fought the instinct to intervene. This was necessary. They needed her. But all he could feel was the unbearable risk of losing her.