The moonlight filtered through the leaves of the trees, casting long, soft shadows across the quiet garden where Aemond and Vensalia walked. It was peaceful here, far from the noise of the banquet hall, and yet Aemond felt a storm stirring inside him. His mind was consumed with everything he had just learned-the girl he had seen for the first time that evening, this mysterious Vensalia, was not only the one he had longed to meet again, but she was also tied to something far greater than he could have ever imagined.

She was no ordinary lady. Her presence, her beauty, and the glow of her eyes spoke of something ancient, something powerful. And now, as they walked deeper into the garden, Aemond could no longer hold back his questions. The answers had to come, and he would not leave without understanding who she truly was.

Finally, he spoke, his voice quieter than it had been before, almost as if afraid of the enormity of the truth she was about to share. "Vensalia," he began, his gaze fixed on her, "you said your family is older than the Targaryens. Older than any of us here. That... that is a claim I can't ignore. Tell me more."

Vensalia turned her head toward him, her lips curving into a knowing smile, as if she had been expecting this question all along. She had been waiting for him to ask, to seek out the truth. Her heart beat steadily, though she could not help but feel the weight of her words. For years, she had hidden in the shadows, concealing her true identity from the world. But now, with Aemond, there was no more need for secrecy.

"My family, the Vakriyomas, are the oldest of the dragonlord houses," Vensalia began, her voice soft yet firm, as if grounding herself in the weight of her heritage. "We were there long before the Targaryens rose to power. Long before the Doom, in fact."

Aemond's interest piqued, his breath catching in his chest. "The Doom?" he repeated. "You speak of the fall of Valyria?"

Vensalia nodded, her expression solemn. "Yes. The Doom, the cataclysm that shattered Valyria. But before that, my ancestors, the Vakriyomas, ruled all of Valyria. We were the rulers of dragons. Not just a few, but many."

She paused for a moment, her eyes distant as though she could see the world she spoke of-ancient and filled with dragons, power, and blood. "Maerala Vakriyoma was the founder of our house. She was not just a dragonlord, but the dragonlord. She bonded with five dragons, and under her reign, she united all the other dragonlord families. It was an age of prosperity and strength for us-before the Doom tore it all apart."

Aemond was silent for a moment, processing the weight of her words. Five dragons. The notion was almost unthinkable. Even the Targaryens, with their wealth of dragons, could barely claim the bond with a single one. But five? The sheer power that came with such an achievement was impossible to deny.

"But how?" Aemond asked, his voice tinged with awe. "How could one person bond with so many dragons? I thought it was only a rare few who could claim such a bond."

Vensalia met his gaze, her pink eyes glowing faintly in the moonlight. "It is part of my family's gift, Aemond," she explained softly. "Our bloodline is intertwined with dragons. The bond we share is not just physical but... spiritual. My ancestors had the power to tame and bond with dragons in ways others could not. It was a gift they inherited from the very creation of Valyria."

She paused, her eyes darkening slightly as she spoke of the ancient past. "But with that power came a price. Our house was both revered and feared. When Maerala Vakriyoma's reign ended, when the Doom destroyed the Valyrian Freehold, our family was fractured, scattered. Many of us were lost, forgotten in the ashes. And for a time, we faded into history, our name nothing more than a whisper."

Aemond absorbed her words, his mind racing with the implications. He had heard whispers about the old Valyrian families, about those who had survived the Doom. But the Vakriyomas were a name that had never reached the history books. To hear her speak of them so openly was both shocking and fascinating. And yet, there was still so much he didn't understand.

"I don't fully understand," Aemond admitted. "If your family was so powerful, so tied to dragons... why are you only now revealing yourself? Why did you wait until now to come to me?"

Vensalia's gaze softened as she looked at him. "Because, Aemond, I had to wait. I could not reveal myself before the time was right. For years, I have been... a shadow. Hiding in the background, watching from afar. But I promised you I would return, and now is the time to fulfill that promise."

Aemond's brow furrowed as he processed what she said. "But why wait for so long? Why possess Helaena? Why all the secrecy?"

Her eyes met his, her expression filled with an emotion he couldn't quite place. "Because it was not the right time before. I was trying to understand my place in all of this. The world had changed since Valyria fell, and I did not know where I belonged. But when I met Helaena, when I saw how she understood me, it felt... right. I was not trying to control her. I was trying to survive, to make sense of what I had become."

Aemond looked at her, the question hanging in the air. "And now? What do you want now, Vensalia?"

She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with the weight of everything she had said. "I want to reclaim my place. My family's place. The Vakriyomas have always been a part of Valyria's history, and I believe the time has come for us to step forward once more. I want to rebuild, to bring my family's legacy back to life."

Aemond felt the pull of her words, the way they resonated with something deep within him. He, too, knew what it was like to feel the weight of legacy, of family history. But there was more to Vensalia than just her family name. Her words, her presence-it was as though she was more than just the last scion of an ancient house. She was someone who had experienced more, someone who had lived through the collapse of everything she knew.

"There's one more thing," Vensalia said, breaking the silence. "Aemond, there is something else you must understand about me. About my power."

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued but also cautious. "What do you mean?"

She extended her hand, palm up, and a thin shadow flickered across the ground beneath them, as though it had come to life on its own. It spread out like liquid ink, twisting and moving in ways that seemed unnatural. Aemond watched, captivated, as the shadows danced in her hand, dark and eerie, yet graceful.

"My power is called umbrakinesis," Vensalia explained quietly. "The ability to manipulate shadows, to control darkness. It is part of my family's legacy-an ancient power passed down through the generations. My ancestors used it to protect their lands, to shape the world around them. And now, it is my gift."

Aemond's eyes widened as he saw the shadows swirl in her palm, the dark energy swirling like liquid night. He had seen many forms of magic in his life, but nothing like this. This was something primal, something that felt as though it reached into the very core of the world itself.

"You can control shadows?" Aemond asked, his voice low with awe.

Vensalia nodded. "Yes. And much more. But it is not a power without its dangers. It requires control, and in the wrong hands, it can be destructive. My family has always kept it in check, but the temptation to wield it unchecked... it is something I must guard against."

Aemond felt the weight of her words. He had always known power could be dangerous, but to see it in its raw form, like this, was a sobering reminder of how much was at stake.

"You're not just a dragonlord," Aemond said, his voice filled with realization. "You're something... much more."

Vensalia smiled, though it was a bittersweet expression. "Perhaps. But I am also just a person, Aemond. And I am here now. To build something new."

As the shadows flickered and danced in her hand, Aemond found himself wondering just what kind of future they could build together. A future that, for all its mystery and danger, was now beginning to take shape before him.

---

The castle was alive with the soft hum of whispers and quiet conversations, but in a dimly lit room atop the grand tower, the Targaryens and Velaryons had gathered, their attention drawn to the garden below. Through the window, they could see the figures of Aemond and Vensalia, moving slowly among the moonlit trees, their heads bent together in quiet conversation. A strange tension filled the air, a tension only deepened by the arrival of Vensalia. The young girl with white hair streaked with red and eyes that glowed with an unearthly pink hue had captured the attention of everyone in the castle, though the noble families could not agree on what to make of her.

The adults in the room-Rhaenyra, Daemon, Corlys, Laena, and others-were not looking at the scene in the garden with the same innocent curiosity as the children. For them, it was a moment of quiet calculation. Vensalia's presence, her identity, and what it might mean for the Targaryen and Velaryon alliance had quickly become the subject of whispered discussions.

But above their heads, in a small, adjacent window, Rhaenyra's children and Laena's children were not concerned with the politics unfolding below them. Instead, they pressed their faces against the cold glass, their wide eyes fixed on the enigmatic girl and their older cousin, Aemond.

Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey Targaryen, Rhaenyra's sons, were unusually quiet as they watched. Jacaerys, the eldest, stood closest to the window, his brows furrowed in thought. "Who is she?" he asked softly, as if trying to make sense of the mystery.

Lucerys, his younger brother, was not as cautious with his words. "She's... different. Look at her eyes," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "They're not like ours. She doesn't look like anyone I've seen before."

Joffrey, ever the curious one, pushed closer to the window, his fingers almost touching the cold glass. "I've never seen Aemond look like this. He's staring at her like he's seen a dragon for the first time."

Baela Velaryon, ever sharp and observant, stood beside her cousins, her gaze intense. "She has something about her. Something... strange. She's not like any of us," she said, her voice low. Her words held a mix of awe and suspicion, the weight of them heavy in the air.

Rhaena, Baela's younger sister, glanced at her cousins but kept her eyes fixed on the pair below. "What if she's a Targaryen? What if she's another dragonlord like us?" she suggested, her voice thoughtful but still unsure.

Jacaerys shook his head slightly. "She doesn't look like a Targaryen. Her hair is like ours, but... different. And her eyes..." He paused, considering. "They're pink."

The children continued to watch in silence, each of them processing what they saw in their own way, their young minds filled with questions. They were too young to fully understand the deeper implications of what was unfolding before them, but they sensed something powerful in the air, something that set Vensalia apart from anyone they had known.

Meanwhile, the adults were not as distracted by the mysteries in the garden. The room behind them was filled with tense murmurs and strategic discussions, as each noble house tried to determine what to do with Vensalia's sudden appearance in their midst.

Rhaenyra stood near the window, her gaze focused on her children for a moment before turning back to the conversation unfolding in the room. Her voice was steady, but the weight of her words carried a sharp edge. "She's come for a reason," she said quietly, her thoughts clearly turning over the possibilities. "We must not be caught off guard."

Daemon, standing beside her, nodded grimly, his eyes also fixed on the pair below. "She's clearly made an impression on Aemond. He's already too absorbed in her presence. This is something we can't ignore."

Corlys Velaryon, who had been observing the scene with quiet calculation, finally spoke. His voice was calm but filled with an underlying tension. "Her family name-Vakriyoma-means nothing to me. Nothing that I've heard in the histories. But there is an unknown blood in her, that much is certain."

Laena Velaryon, her eyes narrowing as she watched Vensalia and Aemond, added her thoughts. "If her claims that she's truly more older than the old valyrian families, we need to understand what that means. It could change everything."

Rhaenyra's gaze darkened slightly, a mixture of curiosity and unease in her expression. "We don't even know if she's a friend or an enemy. But we need to find out."

A low murmur spread among the Velaryons and Targaryens in the room as they discussed Vensalia's identity, her powers, and the possibilities of what her presence could mean for them all. They were careful with their words, trying not to give away too much, but the tension was undeniable.

In the corner of the room, Joffrey Velaryon, his curiosity overcoming his shyness, turned to Baela. "Do you think Aemond knows who she really is?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper. "He looks... fascinated."

Baela's eyes flicked to her brother, her expression unreadable. "I don't know. But he's acting like he knows her, or at least like he wants to know her. Look at the way he's looking at her-like she's something important."

Lucerys, too, couldn't help but join in. "If she's a dragonlord... maybe she's one of us?" he asked quietly, though his voice was laced with doubt. "But she's not like any of us."

Rhaena, her arms crossed as she studied the two in the garden, finally spoke up. "She's... different. I've never seen anyone like her before. Not even with dragons."

Jacaerys shook his head slowly, a deep frown forming on his face. "Whatever she is, she's dangerous. And we don't know enough about her."

Baela turned to her brother, her brow furrowed. "You think Aemond is in danger?"

"I think we all are," Jacaerys replied quietly, glancing down at the garden again. "The way he's acting-he's not thinking. Not like he usually does."

The others exchanged glances, and for a moment, the room was filled with a sense of uncertainty, as if they were all caught in the moment, not knowing which way things might turn.

Meanwhile, in the garden, Vensalia and Aemond continued to walk, their voices too soft to be heard from the window above. Aemond was clearly entranced by her presence, his earlier wariness now replaced by something else. Curiosity, admiration, and perhaps something more.

Vensalia, in turn, was speaking with a calm grace, sharing pieces of her history with Aemond. Her voice carried a quiet strength, as if she had known the weight of her words for years. There was something ancient in the way she carried herself, something that reminded Aemond of the power that came with bloodlines that stretched back millennia.

As they walked, the other Targaryens and Velaryons in the room could only watch in silence, knowing that whatever was happening below was only the beginning.

Rhaenyra's mind raced. She had seen Aemond before, always calculating, always driven by ambition and jealousy for having not a dragon before. But this? This was different. And though she had lived through many challenges, the presence of Vensalia was unlike anything she had faced before.

"We'll have to speak with Aemond," Rhaenyra said firmly, turning to Daemon. "He's already made his decision. He's too wrapped up in her, and we need to make sure he knows what he's getting into."

Daemon nodded, his expression serious. "I agree. But we'll need to move carefully. The last thing we want is for him to become too attached before we understand what she's really here for."

As the children continued to watch from the window, the tension in the room only deepened. They could see Aemond and Vensalia moving closer, their steps slow but purposeful. Their heads bent together in quiet conversation, oblivious to the eyes of their family above.

But the Targaryens and Velaryons were not so easily distracted. Whatever Vensalia's purpose was, they would find out soon enough. The game was just beginning, and there was much more at stake than the children could possibly understand.