The sand is still warm beneath you, holding the day’s heat like a secret it refuses to give up. The sea hums its endless song, steady and patient, and for a moment the world feels small enough to hold in your hands. You’ve come here for six years now — this hidden crescent of shore that belongs to no crown, no council, only the two of you.

You don’t need to turn when you hear the crunch of boots behind you. You’d know his steps anywhere.

“You’re late,” you say lightly.

Aemond drops down beside you anyway, unbothered, brushing sand from his gloves. There’s a glint of mischief in his eye, the kind he only ever shows you. “I prefer to think of it as making an entrance. Besides, evading half of King’s Landing does wonders for the blood.”

You snort, nudging his knee with yours. “I had to outpace guards and endure my mother’s questions. I think that makes us even.”

He leans back, stretching out, and your gaze follows his to the sky where your dragons circle one another — dark and pale wings weaving like they were born to fly together. “Every time I come here,” he murmurs, “I forget who I’m meant to be. No titles. No sides. Just… us.”