༻♕༺

𝖂𝐇𝐎 𝕮𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝕷𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀 𝕯𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍?

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 || 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆'𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆
𝟓ᵗʰ 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 || 𝟏𝟐𝟏 𝐀𝐂

༻ •𖢻• ༺

     𝕻𝖚𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖔𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖇𝖑𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖉𝖔𝖊𝖘𝖐𝖎𝖓 𝖌𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊𝖘 𝖆𝖘 𝖘𝖍𝖊 trots down the stairs into the stable yard, a smile lifts Maelera's lips at the sight of her awaiting beautiful white mare, a gift from Ser Gerold on her recent nameday.

   The Princess dons a crimson tunic, deeper red threading resembling the scales of dragons sewed into the soft fabric, with a leather belt wrapped around her petite waist, a silver dragon head as the clip with her dagger from her Princes sheathed onto it. She also wore black trousers and heeled, leather boots.

Her hair'd been woven into a single braid that runs down her shoulder, the silver interweaving with the dark brunette like beams of starlight.

"Good morrow, Gem." Maela greets the mare, taller than herself, with a soft voice, and combs her delicate hand through Gem's mane that sways with the crisp morning breeze as golden dawn broke through the horizon.

Maela had decided to name the mare Gem, for her silver-white fur glimmers like a gemstone whenever the sun shone upon her silken fur.

After offering the mare an apple, Maela hoists herself onto the saddle like her mother'd taught her. Thanking the stable boy with a grin and a nod, she kicks Gem into a trot towards the gates.

"Open the gates!" One of the guards yells, and the old metal rises with ear-gritting shrieks and groans. Maela withholds a grimace at the horrid sound. "It seems the masons need to oil the gates again." She murmurs to herself, rubbing Gem's neck.

Once the gates were open, Maela squeezes Gem's sides with a click of her tongue, easing her into a canter as she leaves the safety of the Targaryen castle. Racing through the streets of Hook and past the River Gate, the smallfolk crying out in surprise as a blur of silver nearly tramples them into dust, Maela directs her mare off of the Kingsroad and into the dense woodland that 'tis the Kingswood and unhooks her bow from the leather saddle bejeweled with rubies.

Nocking an arrow upon its oiled string, Maela draws it back until the feathers tickle her cheek then lets the arrow slice through the wind. The pointed tip sticks into the trunk of a tree. She smirks.

   Lifting a pair of arrows from the quiver strapped unto the saddle, she holds one between her teeth and nocks the other, releasing it at yet another tree trunk. Taking the second arrow from between her teeth, Maela twists her torso in the saddle to release it behind her. The arrow landing upon its mark with a thump–a skinny branch.

   Then, Gem jumps over a fallen log, and Maela releases her final arrow.

   A joyous holler emits from Maela's smiling lips as she throws her arms out to the sides, trusting her balance and center of gravity.

   Before she ever flew on Balerion, Maelera rode on horseback nearly every day across those wide plains and fields of flowers surrounding Runestone.

   As a woman of the Vale, and a skilled hunter, Rhea Royce thought it only right her daughter learn to ride horseback, and thus she lifted little Maela into the saddle of a pony before the girl could fully walk.

   Maelera Bloodmoon 'twere just as comfortable in the saddle, as she were in the scaly divet of Balerion's back. 

   Gem gallops all along the Wendwater's shoreline until Maela pulls on her reins, halting the mare where the river meets the Blackwater. The mare skids to a brisk stop with a defiant lift of her head before rearing up, but Maela only rubs her hand across Gem's neck, whispering soothing praises to settle the horse.

   After her mare has calmed, Maela slides down from the saddle and leads Gem toward the water so she may drink from the freshwater river instead of the salty sea, whose waters prove fatal for both man and animal.

   Knowing her mare would not wonder too far from her side, she walks over to the shoreline of the bay and unlaces her boots, rolls her trousers up to her knees, then steps ankle-deep into the waters. The cool temper of the sea sends chills creeping up the bones in her legs and raises the hairs on her arms as she involuntarily shivers.

   Maela inhales a great lungful of the breeze that smells of the salty sea as its cold fingertips brush the stray tendrils that fell from her braid, letting the hush of the forest and the lull of the sea embrace her.

   The twisting and winding halls of the Red Keep were chaotic and messy, always stirring with boring politics and gossip. And the streets of the stinking city made her ears ring with the barking of hounds and the banter of the commons.

   But the forest 'twas never chaotic nor messy, never ringing with chatter. It was silent with serenity, full of warmth beaming through every crack in the green leaves and the soft whistling of the wind.

   It was serene and it was peaceful. Maela loved it. She expels a soft breath, the corners of her lips quirking with a soft grin. Though, the forest nor the gardens of the keep could every contend with the skies thousands of miles above the woodlands and the castles of the earth.

   A screech ripples through the breeze and she looks across the bay to see Balerion floating above the blue waters, shimmering like melted sapphires. And she smiles, heart swelling at just the mere sight of Balerion, her other half.

   Oh, how she loves him, and he loves her.

If she hadn't rode Gem there, Maela would've called him to her to fly. Mayhaps she would fly later when the sun were setting, her favorite time to fly, she thinks to herself.

   And there Maelera would remain upon that shoreline watching her boy until the sun rose to its highest peek in the endless sky and decides to return home before panic could ensue, as she'd snuck out through the secret door behind that old tapestry.

༻ •𖢻• ༺

𝕿hose walking through the stable yard in that early hour shout in sudden surprise as a silvery-white mare comes barreling through the gate, nearly trampling them, before her young rider pulls on her reins to halt her beside the steps rising to the grand oak- and-iron doors into the keep.

Maela strokes Gem's neck, "Thank you, 𝐝𝐨̄𝐧𝐚 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐞." A stable boy approaches to grab the reins as she slides down from the saddle. ( sweet horse ) Maela thanks the boy with a grin before walking up the stairs whilst pulling her gloves off with her teeth and strapping them unto her belt.

Traversing through the bustling halls of the keep–always echoing with the gossip of royal court–climbing several flights of winding stairwells, and crossing the old and rickety drawbridge into Maegor's Holdfast, Maelera makes her way to the Queen's solar.

Greeting Ser Criston with a nod he returns as he opens the door for her, and inside Maela sees Alicent pacing the length of the woollen carpet, the crackling hearth illuminating the crease between her perfectly curved brows.

"What's wrong?"

Alicent turns to the familiar voice with her galloping heart in her throat and her shoulders slump with a relieved exhalation of breath as she rushes to embrace the young girl, whom although confused wraps her arms around the Queen's waist nonetheless.

   After a moment to ensure the girl is in her arms and is truly safe, Alicent pulls away to rest her hands on her wild ward's shoulders. "When Ser Melvan came to announce your bed was empty this morrow, I sent the entire Kingsguard out to search for you."

   Maela softly grins with a giggle, "I only went for a ride through the Kingswood."

   Alicent sighs though a grin were tugging at her lovely features, "Yes, I can tell." The young girl chuckles. "Go bathe, sweet dragon."

   Nodding with another chuckle, Maela turns to leave the solar for her bedchamber, though Alicent's voice stops her by the door. "Mayhaps you ought to leave a note the next time you sneak out for a ride."

   "Then that would defeat the whole purpose of sneaking out." Leaving, Maela smirks at the sound of her lovely Queen's gentle laughter.

   Several halls from Alicent's solar, Maela arrives at her bedchamber, where stood at his post outside the door, Ser Melvan greets her with a sigh.

She just giggles, "I brought my dagger if it soothes your brow, good Ser."

   "Only just, Princess." He drawls, and she giggles again.

Entering her chambers she finds her sole maiden already within, patting down the freshly made bed with a basket of laundry by her feet. Salna greets Maela with a knowing smirk, "Good morrow, Princess. Where did you wonder off to this time?"

The young girl smiles, beginning to undo her braid. "Just a stroll through the Kingswood."

Salna chuckles. "A bath awaits you, Princess." Maela smiles, hair now falling freely down her back in waves, now noticing the bronze tub filled with steaming water beside the blazing hearth. "You know me so well, my friend."

A chime of soft laughter rings through the chamber before Salna dips her head in a bow of respect and lifts the wicker basket filled with worn dresses and dirtied riding clothes into her arms before taking her leave of the chamber, knowing her princess could bathe well enough alone and without aid.

Some days, Maela preferred to bathe alone, mostly after the nights she dreamt.

Undressing herself, she sinks into the near boiling waters with a breath, leaning her head against the rim as the scents of the rose petals floating midst the water, the scented candles and oils, wafting throughout the room eases her into a state of bliss.

It'd been a restless few days since her nameday, with her uncle naming her the King's cupbearer. In the last week, she's needed to fill the goblets of the Small Council every day for hours on end.

The young girl didn't truly understand how those old men could discuss the matters of boundary stones and grain storage for the next winter for three tireless hours.

She's hardly had the time to fly with Balerion at dusk, or even at dawn, before her duties were sweeping her away to the council chambers.

To finally escape the confines of court to ride through the forest, brought solace to the girl's heart. And Maela hopes this reprieve will last long enough so she might fly with Balerion at dusk this day.

On the third day, she asked Viserys why he named her his cupbearer whilst they were leaving after a long and tiresome meeting, holding his arm as he leaned heavily on his cane. He merely smiled at her, "Because I believe you have the makings of a sharp mind, Maela, just like your father. I gave him a place at my court, I felt it only fair to bestow the same to you."

Maelera had kept her grimace to herself at the mention of her father, instead smiling up at her uncle-king as she aided him up the stairs leading to the royal apartments. But Viserys had unexpectedly stopped them in the middle of the stairwell, telling his guards to remain behind as he lead her onto the balcony overlooking a courtyard below.

She remembers the sight of nobility and servants intermingling as they passed through the courtyard to attend to their mundane tasks, soft chatter and the echo of birdsongs drifting across the air.

And her uncle's words still meant the world to Maela, something she strives to achieve in her years to come.

Viserys sat on the cushioned bench, set his cane aside to lean on the armrest, and took her little hands into his as he leaned forward to look into her eyes.

"You are already wiser than those old men, and it is my hope to one day have your voice on the council when you come of age. For now, you will learn."

Her dark purple eyes had glistened with tears then, and he held her cheek so tenderly. "You think so, Uncle?"

He smiled, "Oh, my dear Maelera, I know it."

Maelera hopes she will not prove her uncle wrong.

In this world, women were not meant to prosper, only serve and obey, but she is the girl who rides the mighty King of Dragons, a girl who knows the power of her flames... and there is nothing more terrifying to men than that–a girl who cannot be controlled.

༻ •𖢻• ༺

𝕭y midday, after Helaena's etiquette and sewing lessons, the princesses ventured down to the shores of the Blackwater for a stroll, arms woven together with Ser Melvan not far behind them.

   The Golden, beautiful Sunfyre, were drifting lazily across the breeze above the bay with his rider's silver-gold hair catching the pale sunlight.

   Maelera's gaze falls to the rippling sea beside her, her dark brows creased in thought and a frown dragging her pink lips down.

   This day marks a year since her mother's death, then her father's rejection.

   Though, she is spared from delving too deep into those dark thoughts as a winged shadow passes above the beautiful princesses, whom look up to follow the glittering form. The ethereal dragon lands before them, softly hissing as his gold talons curl on the soft white sand.

   Maela softly grins, arm falling away from Helaena's as she approaches the glittering beast. Sunfyre lowers his snout into the palm of her hand with a coo, and Helaena watches the interaction with a soft grin.

   It were of no doubt that Maelera Dragonborn had a deep connection with all dragons. The Gentle Princess remembers then, what she'd read about the ancient Dragonborns in the Targaryen dynasty thus far.

   A Dragonborn is a Valyrian chosen at birth by a dragon. They had a connection with all the dragons of their time, for they were a dragon–fire made flesh.

   There were only two Dragonborns recorded since the Doom of Old Valyria, Aenar the Exile and Aegon the Conqueror. But Maelera Bloodmoon would be the strongest of them all.

   They were those said to be sent from the gods to remake the world. For Aenar remade the world when he sailed his family and their dragons to Westeros and the Conqueror when he forged the Seven Kingdoms and built the Iron Throne.

   Maela was destined to remake the world, from the fire she will be reborn.

"Beware the cold gods, come from the chink in the ice. Bound by blood, and woven by fire. A dragon in flesh, weaving dragons of thread." The Dreamer whispers to herself.

Aegon hops down from his dragon's back with a huff and caresses his gloved hand along his neck as he joins the girls. Sunfyre screeches before taking flight, the flap of his wings tousling the Targaryens' hair.

The Prince greets Maela with a kiss on her cheek and his sister with a smile, knowing she did not like sudden touches, whom returns the smile softly. "I did not expect to find you both on the beach."

Maela chuckles, "'Tis far too beautiful a day to remain inside the keep for hours on end."

"'Tis." Aegon smiles.

Noticing something of interest crawling around in the sand, Helaena wonders off to catch whatever 'tis she saw, leaving Aegon and Maela to themselves, whom just softly giggle.

"I heard her manticore gave one of Mother's servants quite the fright this morn when it escaped its encloser." Says Aegon, grinning. Maela limply shrugs, "I wouldn't know, I was riding through the Kingswood at the break of dawn." Though, a furrow of worry creases her brows, "Hel did find it?" Aegon snickers, "Yes, I believe so."

"You believe so?" She asks with an incredulous expression of raised brows and wide eyes. And Aegon's laughter echoes across the white shores. Maela just shakes her head with a grin, rolling her eyes in amusement.

Having been watching as sweet Hel dug a small crab from the depths of the sand for several moments, when Maela turns to look at Aegon again, she sees he were watching his dragon, brows creased in thought.

She moves to his side, gently nudging his shoulder with her own and lifting her brows when he looks at her. "Do you think dragons can love?"

Maela softly scoffs with a grin, "This is rather random. But I think the better question is who would dare to love a dragon." Both look at the winged beast dancing over the waves. "I believe they love, just as we do. They're very emotional creatures, I've noticed. Lonely, I think."

Aegon's brows crease, "Why lonely?" She does not look at him when she responds, staring at Sunfyre still, "Everyone fears them.. for a dragon could not feed a hungry child nor help a dying woman's pain."

Aegon watches her watching his dragon and wishes that he could keep looking at her and forget all about the duties weighing heavy on his shoulders.

Though, he blinks out of his thoughts when she breaks the silence, "And who would ever dare love a dragon?" She whispers as soft as the sea breeze, yet Aegon heard.

"𝐎̄𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐳𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐢̄𝐳𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐲𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐨𝐫.. they can love one another without fear." ( fire cannot harm a dragon )

His heart flutters when Maela softly grins, looking up at him. "𝐊𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚." ( yes )

The princess weaves her arm through the prince's and continues along the shoreline with him at her side. Though, Maelera Targaryen had been ignorant to the growing love within the Prince's eyes when he spoke those words to her.

༻ •𖢻• ༺

𝖂hen night fell, Maelera 'twere alone in her bed chamber, trapped amiss the dark despairing thoughts whirling like a maelstrom across her delicate mind.

Her mother's death and her own father's rejection having gotten to her in those lonely late hours when no one 'twere around to hold her.

The young girl leans against the headboard of her bed, knees pulled to her chest as she cries into the soft silk of her nightgown. Silent tears slipping down her cheeks with few pitiful sobs escaping her trembling lips as the tears fell unto them, tasting the bitter salt of her wounds.

Maela does not hear the door behind the tapestry creak on its rusty hinges nor the soft footsteps of the young boy approaching the bed until he gasps at the sadness marring Maelera Bloodmoon's ethereal features.

Only then, does she notice his presence and looks into little Aemond's wide dark violet eyes. "Why are you crying?" He asks with a wobbly frown. She wipes away her tears with the pads of her thumbs, rubbing the tender skin beneath her sore eyes, as little Aem climbs onto the bed and into her lap clumsily.

He looks into her sorrowful eyes and felt tears come to his, he hated to see her so upset. It hurts him more than the scrape he got on his knee the day past. "Are you hurt, Maeya? A-are you in pain?.. D-Did I hurt you?"

She softly grins, but 'twere still so sad to him, and shakes her head, stroking his cheek as her legs hold Aemond close to her. "No, you did nothing, 𝐛𝐲𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞̄𝐫𝐞.. I..." She expels a breath, "I.. just miss my mother." ( little one )

"She die?" Maela nods miserably. She never really talked about her mother much with anyone but lovely Alicent. But, of course, everyone knew Rhea Royce were dead, has been for a year as of this day.

Aegon and Helaena knew, as did Aemond, to an extent. There was a silent understanding between them that they never talked about it unless she wanted too.

"Some days I find myself wishing.. so badly that she was still here. Here to hold me, to comfort me.. or even sing me to sleep after my dreams." The princess looks lost in thought, still so sad.

A daughter still grieving the loss of her beloved mother, and Maela does not ever see a day where she does not mourn her mother.

But then, she looks into the violet eyes of the little boy curled up on her lap. "But that doesn't matter, you know why? Because I have you, my little dragon, and you'll always love me, won't you?"

He nods, vigorously, with smile, "I will, Maeya. I'll love you for forever.. even longer than that!" She softly smiles before kissing the tip of his nose and pulling him into an embrace.

   And Aemond Targaryen held true to that promise.

__________༻♕༺___________

🤧 I love my Greenies so much it hurts, they deserve the whole f'n world. 😭

We're in the final stretch of chapters now for the first part and I cannot wait to begin with the episodes! 🥳 ( and did anyone catch the Disney reference?? 🏹 )