What could of been.

There was a gentle breeze upon the horizon that morning, a mere soft brush of the winds to dance over fragile skin, for the invisible caresses of fingers to intertwine through crimson hair, all sweet and delicate and almost loving in a way divinity could never hope to be. It was almost as if the heavens themselves feared that anything stronger than that tender embrace would leave the girl sitting beneath the willow tree to crumble like the ruins of the childhood still held in her deadly grip. And perhaps, there was some truth in those fears...because, after all, Maelyrra was and always would be disease made flesh.

She had been born upon a night like no over with a sickness frayed beneath her veins like bloodied roots of rot, clinging to her mortal corpse like a shadow, like an ever haunting ghost of ruination, screaming in her ear like a banshee welcoming her home to the sweet stench of death...where the only truth of her being was her infliction. From the moment she could walk with a crutch held in trembling fingers that ached with the burden of survival, she was forced to hear the damning whispers full of accusation that were cast down upon her like an echo by the masses.

Somehow, all saying the same thing through different mouths, different tongues, different ideals and blood...that she simply didn't belong.

Rumours had danced around her, winding around the young girls throat, choking her upon their cruel speculations that grew worse as she did in the dying light that were never confirmed but always denied until blood had swelled between perfect teeth...that she was a curse sent to ruin the Targaryen line, that the only reason the Princess had taken her beneath her scaled wing was to claim a marriage proposal to her father, that she was nothing more than a orphan, maybe she was nothing at all except for blessed with luck through fates amusement that pulled the mortal realm like it was a mere puppet hanging from its golden strings of absolution.

All because of the cursed red of her hair that shone like bloodied sin in the swell of the burning sun and moondrunk sorrows of the night, a massacre of red agonies condemning her with its devastation, its desire to ruin her most completely with the truth of her heritage, her life. The only thing that was truly beautiful about the frail corpse of her sickly body those dreadful whispers liked to remind her, that was wasted upon the death made flesh and delicate bone...and it was the there to simply serve the reminder that she was simply Rhaenyra's pitied ward that should of been left for dead.

"Mae! Mae! Seven hells, where are you? Come out now, your princess demands it! We're all waiting for you, you little pest."

And just like that, Maelyrra was pulled from the dark thoughts that had forsaken her most cruely at the strong voice calling out to her through the shadows, leaching her away from the book in hand that had long since gone limp in her delicate fingers, breath catching in her birdcage chest that erupted in agony as she winced and hissed through her teeth. But of course, it only took her a few moments to recognise such a calling, that familar nickname that only one creation loved to call her...and she looked up just in time to find her Jacaerys standing in the garden she had taken refuge in, looking around in a frantic desperation as the sun flickered behind him.

Ah, it seemed that the ever grinding sands of time had slipped away from her once more, that she had lost herself in the stories of old, of valiant knights and all powerful beasts, of slaughter and curses and magic that had long since abandoned the mortal realm and leave it to rot, of true loves kiss bestowed upon those who didn't truly appear to ever actually deserve it...but then again, the young girl was sure she was just being rather bitter indeed. The colourful pages fluttered limply against one another as she closed the book, tracing the leather bound edge with a quiet hum, before finally dragging her gaze to that head of curls once more, and grinned in a way a child about to cause mischief only could.

"Your mother told you to stop swearing. Don't you remember? She said it was unbecoming of a future King." She called, her voice drowned beneath the winds like a sailor to the sea, and it was only by miracle alone that her dear friend, the boy she'd been raised alongside caught that mere whisper as he flinched rather abruptly, spinning around upon his heel with his dark eyes searching through the greenery like she was a snake about to attack from below to gobble him up, beginning to slowly move through the grass in suspicious fashion, looking this way and that with a broad smile curling against his features in innocent amusement.

"Mother also told Lucerys to stop picking his nose...but I truly doubt either are truly going to happen anytime soon, don't you?"

The giggle that slipped through her bloodied lips came unbidden, bursting from her chest like dragon fire and just as wild as she swiftly slapped her hands over her mouth in a rather pathetic attempt not to be heard at that memory, pushing herself further into the tree, ducking beneath the looming shadow of the roots that did nothing to protect her as she watched his head suddenly snap the the side where his gaze collided with the sharp red of her own as he grinned brightly, quick to walk over to her as he climbed over the tree with an envious ease. "There you are! We've been looking all over for you. It's time, pest...you don't want to keep mother waiting, do you?"

Hesitation pooled in Maelyrra's stomach like venom, bubbling beneath the surface as she was suddenly reminded of why she had hid herself away amongst the burrow, shielding herself in the blooming flowers that seemed to shy away from the heat of her flesh, threatening to crumble like ash to bone the longer she sat amongst them in secrecy.

To claim a dragon was a powerful feat, a rare glimpse at the very magic that made the Targaryens Gods, the very magic that still graced the world like a whisper instead of a howling roar that shook the earth below and heavens above. And yet tonight, to claim a dragon was going to be nothing more than a political gain, a hope, to futher along the lie that the Princess Rhaenyra was claiming to be true, that Maelyrra had been blessed by the God's to be hers, that it was fate that she had been found by a Targaryen, and this would mean that Maelyrra would officially be her daughter.

"Forgive me Jace, I was-"

"Reading, yes, yes I know. When are you not? Now hurry up, else your dragon will be fully grown by the time you reach it." He laughed, wrapping his fingers carefully around the thin skin of her wrist to pull her up with a gentleness that was well known and adored by many, and the moment she was stood upon unsteady legs, he was taking her book from beneath her arm to place her cane in her beckoning hand, and the other into the crook of his elbow as he began to pull her along with an excitement that was bordering on infectious as she giggled along quietly, clutching at his sleeve until there was creases in the rich cloth. 

"Please, the likes of you and I both know that you're only rushing me because it means we'll see Baela and Rhaena with their lovely Lady mother sooner."

"And is that a crime? It has been quite a while, I fear I forget their faces."

It didn't take then long to reach the pit, not when the two had talked amongst themselves in quiet bonds, strolling along with swift feet to where everything would change. And when they stood before the large foreboding doors that cast looming shadows through the gloom of the threatening castle around them, that felt as though every dark spot was hiding something malicious and monstrous, waiting for a moment to strike and tear and destroy, her wretched soul standing with her, begging her to turn back, to hide between the roots and trees with her mind a fog of dreams and magic...and then the doors finally opened as Jacerys pushed them forwards.

And instantly, Maelyrra found her eyes drifting through the people, through the cold stone walls that left a chill creeping up her spine, through the harsh and indifferent faces that blistered with the weight of her sins. And then her eyes drifted, drifted to see Lady Rhaenys whispering in low tones to the Sea Snake Corlys...and the moment their gazes crossed, the Queen who never was gave the girl a quick wink, a swift thing almost impossible to catch, like the beat of a dragon's wings against the victorious winds, such a look that lifted the weight from her burdened shoulders, even if it was for a singular second.

"You're late, sweet thing." Rhaenyra whispered, appearing before her like an apparition in the night, a soft snile adoring her features reserved for only her eyes to see as she came to a stop beside her, brushing her loving hand through the bloodied curls that flowed down her shoulders like a crimson river, pulling her fingers under with her deadly currents. And the young girl couldn't help but gobble up that adoration, that affection with greedy divinity, staining her mouth and soul with the corruption of devotion as the ruination in her weary bones sang.

"Forgive me, I'm afraid my head may of been stuck in the clouds, as per usual." Maelyrra said sheepishly, tucking her chin to her chest as if to shield herself away from the possibility of scorn, just to hear a chuckle grace her ears before her Lady pulled her face up towards her own, stroking her thumb against the bruised skin of her cheek until she felt as though the world could of crumbled beneath their feet and she would of been none the wiser, loving like an abandoned dog loved and digging into skin with rotting teeth and refusing to be let go of.

"Hm, well soon that will be true on all accounts."

But just like that, the illusion that there was no one else on the room, in the world other than themselves faded to nothingness, chains pulling down her mortal corpse back inside her prison of flesh and rot as she desperately tried to smile, only for it to look more like a grimace as she slowly turned around to look upon her fate. And in the back of her mind, she could still hear the muttering, could feel Laenor grasp her shoulder in a reassuring hold as he whispered comforts into her ear, taking her arm in his other hand as he helped her forward with her heart pounding inside her chest...until she was finally stood before the egg, shining like riches before her as it moved quietly.

Then there was a hush that fell over the room, an atmosphere as thick as smoke and as suffocating as ash. She could hear her chest pounding, could feel it beneath her, biting against her rib cage like a rabid beast as she risked a step closer, desperate in her desire to reach out touch...she had spent her life holding her own hands in bloodied fists, too weak to grasp anything else, trying to understand what would happen if she finally showed the weight of her crimson scars, to be ripped open and looked at, gaping wounds and all...she was ashamed to be witnessed in the act of wanting something.

"If you want this child as your own, Rhaenyra. You have to lay truth to what you claim to be true...I cannot protect you in this, stubborn girl. You want her to possess your name? Make her claim a dragon."

Make her claim a dragon, Maelyrra's eyes fluttered open, red gleaming in the envious sun that cast shadows through the gaps of glass and stone...to gaze upon the egg once more, bathed in amber and golds. And with the King's words echoing in her mind, his only condition to allow for her keen possession, she reached out with trembling fingers, with the prayer that she would be Rhaenyra's, and that would be it...but the moment she brushed against the warm, beautiful shell, her breath a mere catch in her throat with hope her idle prison, the egg became still...and so grotesquely cold and dead.

The dragon maesters rushed forwards, calling out orders and desperation, taking the beast in their own hands, warming it between their rippling flesh as she stood and watched, hand still outstretched with the echos of what could of been haunting her, even as she was pulled back by Laenor, as he tried to shield her away from the devastation of her own creation, before he too, was pulled forwards, back to the masses and she was left back upon the stairs...where a cruel chuckle was left to greet her, as she stared, unblinking at what had been her chance.

"You should watch it there, Lady Waters. Your Princess would hate for you to take a tumble and break that back of yours."

I'd drag you with me, the thought came unbidden the moment she registered the voice that spoke, and the violence of it took her breath away as she paused, trying desperately to reign control over her composure, refusing to give him the pleasure of a reaction. Rhaenyra was still talking to the King in frantic whispering, and hushed voices, gesturing afound with regal hands adored with silver and gold, all the while Maelyrra watched on, ignoring the devil upon her shoulder...before he leant down to bump against her with a mocking comadery, still giggling beneath his breath as she twitched.

"Oh, come on, it was a simple jest...after all, you already know that you're the true joke, no, no actually you're worse than that...you're a curse, and the sooner my half-sister abandons you to where she found you, the sooner our familys humiliation can simply come to an end." Aegon grinned, as if he had whispered something humorous and not something absolutely vile, the hate he sprouted like roses in bloom, pricking her with those deadly thorns, sinking his teeth into her vulnerable throat and tearing it out as if it were nothing. He was good at being unkind...and she meant it as a compliment, truly, she did.

Yet still, it was then that she finally and truly snapped with feral desperation, like a fox ensnared in a trap, bleeding and howling as it shrieked at cruel hands, needing him to stop whispering in her ear when all she wanted to do was breathe. "If you keep talking-"

"You'll what? Hit me with your walking stick? Tell your bastard friends on me? The Princess? My grandfather? Tell me who they're going to believe...the prince? Or the dead girl walking."

Her eyes began to ache with the weight of unurshed tears, only it wasn't sadness or embarrassment making them just so...but a sense of righteousness that demanded justice, that demanded blood, and when she glared up at Aegon with something reflective gleaming in those bloodied eyes, it seemed that he found something there that was a threat, something that was worth him shifting in an uneasy fashion with a scowl, scorched dead by the fiery red of her gaze that burned like dragon fire...before he did what he usually did when confronted with something he couldn't control, couldn't touch...he ruined it.

When his face twisted into something grotesque and cruel, as he leapt across that final step and pushed her down the stairs with such a loud clatter that it brought the entire council to a standstill as they turned to face who would cause such a ruckus, to see the Princess's 'broken' ward laid in a heap, tears rolling down malnourished cheeks as the shining red of her hair glistened through the sunlight...and then the whispers began, as she looked from face to face desperately. As Aegon, and some of the crueler lords, began to chuckle, hiding it behind coughs as they pointed and stared and condemned.

"Oh, would someone call for a maester for God's sake! Instead of standing there gawking like meek little sheep." Rhaenys snapped, her forked tongue swift and sharp even as she aged as she rolled her eyes with a drink held still in her poised hand, as the young girl slowly rolled over, teeth bared and breath a hiss, the skin of her back already bruised, blooming in hues of purples and blues as she desperately tried to keep the tears blurring her vision at bay.

"Mae, sweet thing, what happened? Are you alright?"

But it was at Princess Rhaenyra's familar presence that those taunts dispersed into blissful and damned silence, as she pushed through the men circling like vultures to kneel beside her ward, pushing long fingers through unruly hair that threatened to turn that pale flesh red...and it was then the young girl realised, in the safety of her lady's arms...that those looks that had burned her had not been averted, that those whispers had not dimmed...they had simply changed the perpetrator of their digust to her saviour, to her Queen that was undeserving of such vile contempt.

...And the young girl couldn't dare waste another moment, another second knowing that it was she that was the causation, as a sob clawed it's way out of her bird-cage chest, wrecked with a terrible hitch in her lungs that promised another long night, as she stood upon aching legs and hit the cobbled stone of the castle running, heading her cane clattering to the floor once more, the panicked howl of her name as Rhaenyra desperately tried to rise and follow after her ward, only to gasp, clutching at her stomach that twinged with something awful, dragging their attention as King Viserys's rushed to her side.

But Maelyrra cared not, blinded by the rage that cradled her weak body, by the sorrow that drowned her like a sailor lost to the tides, and by the clear clarity that condemned her like a curse from a witches breath as the truth finally came to light as she ran through the halls with blood in her mouth...and the touches lining the walls around her suddenly flickering to life around her as she ran and ran and ran...because no matter how much she denied it, Aegon's words ran cruel but true getting louder and louder, echoing in the confines of her mind...all that was there inside of her was death and decay and rot.

It was her legs that gave out first of course, stumbling over one another like a young dragon taking flight, and she was only able to run for another few seconds before she fell to her knees, feeling the ricochet throughout her whole body that had her teeth clattering against one another. Buy she barely noticed the everlasting agony that had plagued her every day of her cursed life, far too busy grabbing fistfuls of grass between her trembling hands, ripping the soil beneath her nails, tearing and yanking with tears streaming down her face, grunting beneath her breath like a wild animal, again and again and again.

"...Your nose is bleeding."

That familar voice came softly from behind her, barely even louder than a whisper, barely even louder than the sound of crimson droplets searing the earth with her ruination...and she wanted to just scream, to shout and howl and rage, to be stronger than she was just for one simple second. And instead all she was able to do was wipe at the blood with clumsy fingers, until a cloth was placed in front of her held in a hesitant hand, but it was only when she snatched at it with greed lacing it's way through her veins did they finally sit beside her in the garden...where it all began those few years ago.

"I wanted to be alone, Aemond. And you shouldn't of been so swift to follow me, they'll all find it suspicious."

"Forgive me, Maelyrra, but the others were all far too concerned with the Princess to give the likes of you and I a second thought." He said plainly, as he usually did, his voice a soft and simple fact that washed over her like a wave. But she only huffed at the pale-haired boy, drawing her aching knees to her chest, clutching at them so tightly she'd feared she'd tear apart the miserable flesh that held her imprisoned corpse into little tiny pieces, as he stared out into the distance beside her. "What did Aegon say to you? Tell me."

And it was only then that she made a sound, that she moved, that she gave a sign of acknowledgement to the familar Prince sitting beside her as she snorted bitterly, scornfully, feeling it scratch at her throat with a vengeance until all she could taste was the burn of her own hatred consuming her like the very flames of hell. What hadn't Aegon say to her? When had he ever not been cruel to the girl who's fate had been to die at birth, blessed to live and cursed to ruin everything she touched. "What makes you believe I was weeping over your brother, my Lord Targaryen? Perhaps I was simply worried about my cane, it did hit the ground rather hard."

"Because I know you. Even beneath the guise of hatred we wear like armour for the sake of our quarrelling mothers...you will always be known by me."

Our, our, our, that simple acknowledgement of the love she had for the Princess, for the love they held for each other stole her breath and left agony to bloom and rot in its place, because how was she not able to adore her saviour most completely to the point of obsession, of ruination, when the Princess, her Queen had been her angel and her salvation. She looked over to Aemond, and thought about how odd it was, the both of them, sat side by side...a something that had bloomed a few years ago, hidden beneath a tree, tangled between the roots where his tears had blinded him...she had sat beside him, because where else had she meant to go?

"And unfortunately, I know my brother. But you should know better than anyone that you shouldn't listen to him...he's an idiot." He muttered with a scowl, a barely there thing that twisted the corners of his lips and sent a darkness through pale eyes that held nothing less than contempt. And now usually Maelyrra would chuckle, or she'd just let out a careful jest that shouldn't be cruel to those less fortunate that one's self, but the words turned to Ash upon her tongue as a fiery rage simmered in her gut, fanning up until she felt that the moment she opened her mouth smoke would billow out and consume her.

"Aegon is right. Every moment Rhaenyra keeps me as her ward, the more those damned rumours spead like an ember to a forest fire and there is nothing I can do to stop it...I will never be the daughter she needed when she took me in that night."

She had no property, no blood father, nor any kind of power, she would bear no children, love no husband, the disease that had maimed her, that had twisted her into something that was not hers, staring at the broken pieces of every mirror and begging her reflection for more time, more everything. She couldn't be used as other wards and daughters were to strengthen relations and bonds between houses and empires...she would have no magic of her own and she would never be a dragon rider.

However, before she could grieve for things that could never be, before she could crumble like the walls of Valyeria into ruin and desolation, there was a hand suddenly placed upon hers, hardly heavier than a mere feather tickling her flesh in a hesitant embrace. And when she turned her face it was to see Aemond staring at her with an awkward flush to his cheek as he fought for words to comfort. "Perhaps Aegon is right, I cannot argue against that, but my half-sister did chose to make you hers after finding you that night...and that is all the world needs to know. You are hers, and she is yours, and so the chapter ends."

"...Besides, all that will no longer matter when I claim a dragon, because all of those that once dared spread such cruelty about you will be fed to it, I swear to you."

And it was only then that Maelyrra finally, finally, smiled truly, and it was a blinding thing as she looked at the boy from beneath those dark lashes that casted shadows upon her cheeks, clutching his hand just as tight with their fingers intertwined and sweat clinging to their palms. Before she looked to the sunset, letting the warmth wash over her as her eyes flutted shut in bliss and content...all the while young Aemond looked at her the same, scarcely able to force his gaze away from the blood red glow of her hair that shone brighter than any Ruby or riches that haunted him.

But back in the safety of the keep, surrounded by her doomed family that swarmed the exhausted Princess like moth to flame, talking amongst themselves like buzzing wasps, unawares, always unawares of the small strange girl condemned like cursed Cassandra, uttering insanities no one believed, her pale hand holding a spider gently, Haelena suddenly spoke up with a voice a haunting whisper that stained the stone for centuries to come, looking down to the floor as she moved the creature around her fingers in wonder, as the heavens and the earth collided before her mind...as she watched blood red eyes and green fire condemn the realm with a hungry vengeance.

"A eye lost...a dragon gained...and a darkness falls through Targaryen name...A war brewed...a debt proclaimed...and a monster found through phoenix flame."