⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ °• ☼ CHAPTER ONE: GOLDEN CRADLE ☾ •°⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

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PRINCESS NESAELA DAENYS TARGARYEN was born in the Autumn of 266 AC, when the birds flourished through the sky on wings of gold and blue, and orange, browning leaves fell to the earth. She was a calm baby, not like Rhaella's and Aerys' previous child, Rhaegar. Her mother would say that the ocean breeze and wind could quiet her quicker than her own words, and though Nessie couldn't remember, she would sit and watch the lapping waves on her mother's knee.

     Nesaela was the first child born after nearly ten years of miscarriages and stillborns, therefore initially being the source of Aerys' pride after a decade period of anger and hostility towards his wife. Upon Nessie's birth, there had been a great procession leading through the heart of King's Landing. Gold and green had glittered through the sky, sailing past bright black and red Targaryen banners. Her brother Rhaegar, a young boy of seven, had run with the knight and horses that day, raising his own silver banner representing hopes for prosperity, before the handmaidens caught him. Music had been played joyously and it was then that Rhaegar first plucked the strings of a harp. The echo of lutes had hung in the air.

     Princess Nessie had been gifted with a great many things: golden horses to sit along her mantleplace; crowns and dresses of thousands of kinds for when she came of age (ocean-greens, mauves and violets, blues and pearls and millions of colours of sea foam); enough books to line the entire southern wall of her room; and a half-burnt, silver and blue dead dragon egg from the shores of the shadow lands of Asshai, gifted to her by Barristan Selmy. Each of them sat on the dresser in the nursery now. The sun glinted off the blue scales of the dragon egg and reflected in gold droplets around the room.

     A golden cradle sat at the centre of the room, fluttered with ocean-green drapes from the window. The sea breeze filtered through in soft wafts of salt and sand, and the sun was warm on the two onlooker's faces. Queen Rhaella, golden hair framing her goddess-like face, watched over her baby daughter in the crib. There was a golden tiara placed on Rhaella's head. She was bathed in silver and rose-gold silk, which draped over her thin arms and rose out at her legs. But her face was pale and hollowed, dark circles beneath her purple eyes, body thin and jagged as if a puzzle had tried to piece itself together, but not got it quite right.

     King Aerys II stood beside his wife, if a little distanced, long white hair falling over his shoulders. Though his face had been hardened over the years, weathered with scars and wrinkles, Aerys' grim lips were twisted into a smile. His magnificent black and ruby-speckled crown caught the rising sun.

     They stood in silence, hearing the waves crash against the rocks of the Red Keep, sea birds calling a song from outside. Sea glass fluttered in chains on the windowsill in the breeze.

     "She must be strong," Aerys said, gaze held on the silver-haired babe. His hand was tucked around Rhaella's shoulders. It was the first time he'd touched her warmly in years. "To have survived." Rhaella felt the bitterness in her husband's words then, and itched to get away from him. Instead, she curled her pale, ringed fingers around the rail of the golden cot, watching their sleepy curled daughter, pale lilac eyes squinting up at the ceiling. Her first girl.s

     "She will be strong," Rhaella agreed, lips curled and words soft with adoration. I can see so in her eyes. How had something this sweet come from a man so rageful? She reached a soft hand down to caress her baby's smooth cheek, the daughter staring at her mother blankly. Nessie wore the hint of a newborn's smile on her face. "She is a dragon," the Queen said, and had no doubt about it. Her fingers still ached from having held shut the door a few nights prior from her angry husband, and there was the hint of angry crescent-moon fingermarks around her wrists, from a few days past. Rhaella hid them with her silver sleeves, draping like moonlit water.

     Aerys ran his purple eyes across the silver-haired babe. "She shall be wed to Rhaegar when she comes to age."

     Rhaella looked up at that, eyebrows furrowed. "Oh, but my love, she is much too young for him. I'm sure Rhaegar will have many other girls to court. The young Stark girl, for example, or the Dornish Elia. Even the Tully girl, Catelyn." Aerys bristled at the suggestion, eyes hardening at her words. Rhaella did inch away from him then, still holding protectively onto the cradle. His breath across her cheek as she turned her head away from him whispered anger, hot and hostile. She could imagine his purple eyes gleaming like uncut amythests at his words.

     "The family must keep the bloodline pure," Aerys said bitterly, glaring at his wife. Then his glare turned to his daughter, still sour. Aerys turned and left the room with a flicker of his golden sewn robes, white hair dull in the sun. The door closed with a slam which echoed through the small nursery, loud enough to make Rhaella jump with fright. Nessie, however, didn't seem so surprised. She was still laying calmly in the cot, weak fingers grasping around the violet blanket. It matched her eyes.

     "What am I going to do with you?" Rhaella asked softly, lifting her baby girl into her arms, still weak after childbirth. She ached, bones sore and head thrumming. Her skin felt like a live-wire, sensitive and sparking.

     The golden dragon mobile shone in the sunlight, twinkling slightly, as Rhaella lifted her daughter towards the roof. Her own jewellery chimed as they fell down her frail wrists. The sun rays shone through Nessie's wisps of silver-white hair and lit her pale eyes.

     "I'm going to protect you," Rhaella said softly after a few moments, chapped lips barely moving as she lifted her daughter back down and against her breast. The gold wrapped, pristine painted door to the nursery was sealed closed after her husband's departure, and a sea breeze filtered through the open window, cries of ocean birds reaching their ears. Rhaella pressed her lips to the smooth, light skin of Nessie's forehead. "From all the monsters in the world."

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     NESAELA DID, INDEED grow to be a strong child. She learned quickly, taking a passion for both poetry and art, though music was never her strong point. She willingly gave her poetry and prose to bards and let them sing her stories. Songs were sung about her beauty. She was taught to ride only years after she learnt to walk, given a young midnight black horse by her father which she fell in love with. If not scribbling with ink in her room, she would ride with her horse each and every day.

     Though timid, she was a handful for Rhaella to take care of. More often than not, the Targaryen daughter would turn up to dinner and embassy parties with ink stains on her face and fingertips. Rhaella swore the little girl's fingers were permanently dyed black. Her brother recalled it looked like she had ran her hand across the night sky. Some said the girl swallowed her poetry too, for the lyrics that would pour from her lips in song were as beautiful as to be spoken by the Gods. They said her poetry was a gift from the old Valyrian Gods.

     Though in her younger years, her father had been nothing but loving and gift-giving to the girl, as she grew, so did his bitterness. It was another many years before Rhaella produced another child. A healthy boy by the name of Viserys. He was the joy of Rhaella's world. But the King's suspicion only grew. Certainly this many miscarriages had to be the work of Rhaella's unfaithfulness. The Gods did not want a bastard to sit on the iron throne. He grew vengeful and afraid. Both Rhaella and Nesaela were not permitted to see Viserys alone for the first year of his life, in Aerys' fear that they would poison him. Gifts sent for him had also been burned, in case the items were cursed. Madness had rooted itself in Aerys like cruel living snakes that feasted on his soul. A man lost to madness, one of Nesaela's most beloved handmaidens told her, is a man forever lost.  

     Nesaela watched as his dark violet eyes which Rhaegar bore became hard and untrusting, face wrinkling with deep grooves that Nessie were sure if unravelled, would drape on the floor. His teeth yellowed from alcohol and lack of care. But the worst part by far, was his gaze. Once lying upon her like she was the moon as Rhaegar was the sun, now they regarded her with cold absence, as if he hadn't a care in the world she was his daughter. He brushed Viserys off the same way, so that while Rhaegar was left in the shining spotlight of his pride, Nessie and Viserys were pushed out of his eyes, and in turn, his heart.

     It had hurt more than Nessie had expected, and so she spent nights sitting on the rail of her marble balcony writing more poetry, even only as a child. Often, she'd find herself lying on her bed and cradling the silver-blue dragon egg she'd been gifted on her name day. It had been Barristan Selmy's gift for the newborn, an expensive yet precious trinket. He would tell her the story of how the trader's had found it deep in a cave in the belly of a dragon skeleton. They'd left the remains there in fear of incurring its spirit's wrath and so it would never be uncovered who the dragon had been. Nessie liked to imagine the mother had been Meleys, the Red Queen, or one of the other massive dragon's of the Dance whose body hadn't been recovered. There was a deep groove along the southern side of the egg, half melted from some terrible flame. It was dead, long turned to stone, but sometimes she liked to imagine she felt warmth inside. Sometimes, she dreamt there was even a heartbeat.

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     THE FACES OF NOBLES AND SERVANTS ALIKE PASSED IN A BLUR—PALE AND GOLDEN AND DARK, DRESSED IN A THOUSAND OR MORE COLOURS LIKE THE BRUSH OF A RAINBOW. It soon became apparent that if Nessie kept running like this, she was going to pass out, or vomit—either option very unladylike and likely to get her in trouble with the ladies of the court.

     "Miss Nesaela! Miss Nesaela!"

     Nessie skidded around the marble corner, taking off as fast as her seven-year-old legs could take her, long silver hair fluttering behind her and golden-branched crown slipping from her forehead. She was wrapped in an array of fine silver jewellery, a prized pearl hanging around her neck, bracelets of all kinds adorning her wrists, and a three-headed silver dragon broach tucked into the hem of her dress.

     Her breath was coming out in pants as she made her escape. Nessie ducked around two servants and her handmaiden—who looked shocked at her sudden appearance. "Sorry!" she exclaimed as she knocked over a basket of freshly cleaned linen. "Sorry! Sorry!"

     She flew down the stairs with her silver gown whipping around her small legs, as she heard another shout from her headmistress. "Princess Nesaela, get back here! You cannot just leave your lessons!"

     Nessie squealed internally as she ran, absolutely flying through the balconies of King's Landing. "Crap!" she swore under her breath as she hit one of the servants—a beautiful brown-skinned girl of fourteen. "I'm so sorry." She touched the girl's arm briefly before she was off again.

     She ducked around the corner full speed, bare feet slapping on the marble tiles. A woman with golden hair stepped out directly in front of her and swung her up, in perfect practice.

     "Mother!" Nessie complained as she was pulled into Rhaella's thin arms.

     "Aye," her mother said in the same tone, swinging Nesaela so they were face to face. She poked Nessie's pointed nose. "You should stop escaping your lessons, Nesaela. The headmistress only wants what's good for you."

     Nessie stuck out her tongue in a very un-princess-like fashion. Rhaella balanced the thin, young girl on her hip and tucked Nessie's silver hair behind her ears. "I'm sick of singing!" Nesaela whined, throwing her head back dramatically. "It's always 'singing', 'singing!' No more singing!" She kicked her hanging legs with each word. "I just want to go horse riding!"

     Headmistress Hana ran around the corner, her golden gown pooling around her ankles. The woman jolted in fear as she saw the purple-eyed girl in the hands of her mother, the queen, looking mischievous. "I'm sorry, my Queen," panted the headmistress, dark eyes wide and panicked. She bowed low, gracefully, letting her long sleeves drape on the floor. Her lovely brown skin was bunched in wrinkles upon her forehead. "She left the lesson without my permission. I never meant—"

     "That's quite alright, Hana. I know my daughter can be quite the handful sometimes." She smiled as she lifted Nessie up higher to look at her face. Nessie had a wide grin on her face, loving the disruption. "She needs to learn more courtesy." The queen spoke the words with a hint of firm teasing, looking Nessie right in the eyes with a squint. "I'll take care of her for now, Hana." She smiled gratefully at the headmistress. "Sorry for the issues, Headmistress."

     Headmistress Hana huffed with a smile. "It's no problem, my Queen. Princess Nesaela is—most of the time—" she gave Nessie a squint, "a wonder to have." She curtseyed again before making her leave towards the gardens.

     Rhaella corrected Nessie's perch on her hip so she was facing her. "What am I going to do with you?" she murmured, a playful smile on her face. She seemed to inspect her daughter. "Get cleaned up and learn some manners..." Rhaella teased, adjusting the crown of twisted gold branches and pearls on Nessie's head. "... and you will make a lovely queen." She placed a kiss on her daughter's forehead.

     Nesaela's eyebrows pulled together, and her eyes cast down, confused. "I'm... I'm not in line for the throne," Nessie said, repeating one of the phrases her father told her every day.

     Rhaella ran a pale hand down her daughter's cheek. "You will always be a queen in my eyes, my dear, no matter what your father says." A shiver travelled down the queen's spine at the mention of her husband. "Remember, you are a dragon. You are my child and you are a dragon." Nesaela's hair cascaded down her face in a wave of bone and frostflowers, even with a hint of lavender. She touched her daughter's cheek again, a warm smile on her pale face. "And some day, you will be the loveliest queen the world could ever know."

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please keep in mind that the world of game of thrones/asoiaf is massive and so if i get certain details wrong (which i most certainly will) please ignore them or correct me politely. there's so much going on, i'm sorry if i mess up the facts. 

2,542 words

22.07.2018.