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    Summary

    He pierced through the shell, clawing, biting and kicking, the fire roaring with glee. No, he was not simply joining the blissful heat. What he could best describe as three other souls were waiting for him. He could not see past the dancing haze, yet he knew they were just within reach. But he was exhausted. His limbs felt weak, heavy from fighting for freedom. The air was thin from the greedy blaze. Aemond gave into the need for sleep as the liquid that previously nursed him dried into nothingness…

     

    He had made his decision. Aemond Targaryen was reborn as Drogon. He would keep his rider safe and happy. What she desired, he would grant; so long as it did not needlessly endanger any of his surviving family. He would try his best to be her child, her protector, her advisor and valiant steed. The walls of his heart would be cast down.

    Language:
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