༻♕༺

𝕿𝐇𝐄 𝕶𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓'𝐒 𝕺𝐀𝐓𝐇

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 || 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆'𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆
𝟕ᵗʰ 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 || 𝟏𝟐𝟎 𝐀𝐂

༻ •𖢻• ༺

     𝕬𝖒𝖎𝖉𝖘𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖌𝖑𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖔𝖚𝖘 𝕲𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙 𝕳𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 infamous Red Keep, stands a crowd of curious nobility observing Ser Melvan 'Shield-Breaker' of House Mertyn as the knight kneels beneath the grand Iron Throne where the King of Westeros, himself, perches.

Viserys I 'the Peaceful' beckons Princess Maelera Targaryen forward, thus the young girl leaves her place between the Queen's elder children to stand before the knight.

The youthful Queen, herself, expels a sigh beneath her breath as she clutches her belly, watching the little girl yet so wise for her age stand atop the first step of the Iron Throne, her beautiful features looking rather sickly yet still Alicent bears her duties with a smile.

Maelera admires her strength.

The King nods to the knight, whom begins to recite his oath to the young princess, "Princess Maelera of House Targaryen, I will shield your back with all my strength and give my life and blood for yours. I will keep your counsel and guard your secrets. Obey your commands. Ride at your side, and defend your name and honor. I shall take no wife. Hold no lands. Father no children. I swear this by the Old Gods and the New."

"And I vow that you, Ser Melvan of House Mertyn, shall always have a place by my hearth and meat and mead at my table. And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New. Arise."

Ser Melvan 'Shield-Breaker' arises, bowing his head to Princess Maelera Bloodmoon with the corner of his lips quirking with a prideful smirk.

'Twas his greatest honor to be named protector of a Targaryen princess.

"Ser Melvan Mertyn, Sworn Shield to Princess Maelera!" The King announces with a jubilant smile, and the hall erupts with approval as the nobility bring their hands together in acclamation. "I know Ser Melvan will serve House Targaryen honorably and justly and protect our beloved princess, my young niece."

Viserys I directs his bright smile to his niece, young Maela, whom returns it.

Once silence overfell the throne hall, the fifth king of the ancient and glorious House Targaryen descends the steps of the Iron Throne to depart from the hall, all the nobility and Kingsguard shadowing Viserys akin to ducklings waddling after their mothers.

Queen Alicent Hightower ushers her two eldest along as she approaches her ward. Laying her gentle palm on Maelera's shoulder, the young girl looks up at her.

"What will you do with the day, sweet girl?"

Maelera hums thoughtfully, "I truly hadn't thought much of anything past Ser Melvan's investiture. It's far too cloudy for flying."

A soft grin lifts the Queen's lips. "Why don't you have tea with me and Helaena, then, after your lessons?"

Maelera's youthful features brighten as she smiles, a thing more beautiful than the stars and warmer than the sun, "I would love too."

"Excellent. We shall see you then, sweetling."

Alicent leaves the young princess with a soft caress along her shoulders, and Maelera Targaryen were the last to remain midst the Great Hall, with her sworn shield alongside her.

Alone with only the flickering shadows and the old walls to accompany them, Maela turns her gaze to the foreboding throne that looms high above her like the mountains in the Vale.

Of course, she'd glimpsed it before when she first arrived in King's Landing, that dreadful night, but she weren't truly allowed to stand so close to it, let alone even something so innocent as just sitting on it.

Maelera Bloodmoon knew she would never rule from atop the Iron Throne, but the thought of ruling an entire kingdom, let alone the Seven Kingdoms, made the young girl want to jump onto Balerion's back and fly away, far away.

She despises politics—people arguing over mundane and ridiculous matters when they believed they were in the right even when they weren't. Maelera would never understand how her mother and the Queen tolerated such things.

Just the thought of it was enough to drive her mad with insanity.

The young girl then expels a soft breath and spins around to look at Ser Melvan with a bright grin. "Come, Ser, you ought to meet Balerion."

The young man, most likely not much older than Ser Criston Cole, blinks.

A giggle erupts from Maela's lips. "I believe he will wish to meet the knight sworn to protect me and sense if he holds any malice intent."

Ser Melvan merely bows his head in acceptance, gesturing for the princess to lead the way.

༻ •𖢻• ༺

     𝔘pon the white shores of Blackwater Bay, stands the Bloodmoon with her sworn shield. The cerulean waters lapping against the sand, the waves crashing against one another as the wind stirs their wrath.

   A screech ripples through the fierce wind whipping Maelera's hair this way and that as Balerion the Black Dread slices through the air toward the shores of the Blackwater, where his other half awaits.

His large heavy wings beat against the air as he softly descends to the shore, the earth rumbling beneath the King of Dragons' might.

Ser Melvan watches with a wide-eyed gaze as the largest dragon in the known world, certainly bigger than Mistwood keep, lowers his snout to the soft sand to greet Maelera Bloodmoon with a rumbling purr.

Such a tender sound for a ferocious beast whose very breath could melt skin from bones and fuse the sand beneath their feet into glass.

The Daughter of Death returns Balerion's greetings with a caress to his snout and sweet whispered words in her mother tongue, High Valyrian, before turning around to look at Ser Melvan.

"𝐁𝐢𝐬𝐚 𝐢𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐬 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐧. 𝐊𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐨 𝐦𝐢̄𝐬𝐢𝐨 𝐳𝐢𝐫𝐲 𝐣𝐚̄𝐡𝐨𝐫." ( this is ser melvan. he will be my sworn protector )

The Black Dread puffs a pummel of pale smoke from his flared nostrils, dilated pupils thinning into slits when they rise to meet this sworn protector.

Balerion then extends his serpentine neck toward Ser Melvan, the man himself swallowing down the boulder in his throat as the wild beast takes in his scent.

The stench of ash and flame assaults Ser Melvan's nose.

Balerion bares his black teeth longer than swords with a murmured growl. To Ser Melvan's credit, he does not shy away, merely stares the dragon in his red eyes as sweat begins to break out across his entire body from the extreme heat emitting from Balerion before him.

From the Black Dread's snout comes a hiss as the knight is engulfed in pale steam that singes the small hairs of his neatly-trimmed beard, before he twists his neck to look at Maelera Bloodmoon.

Balerion huffs. Maelera smiles.

The Black Dread approves of Ser Melvan 'Shield-Breaker'.

Balerion extends his wings, casting a colossal shadow across the entire Bay that has seagulls taking to the air in fright and crabs rushing to return to the sea depths, and with a flap of them ascends to the sky, sending water spraying in all directions and Ser Melvan backwards unto the soft sand.

A giggle erupts from Maela, bringing forth an amused yet relieved chuckle from the knight. She trots over to him just as he stands to his feet, brushing the sand off of his grey armor with the crest of his House gleaming in the center of his chest, the jeweled eyes of the great-horned owl sparkling with his every movement.

"He likes you, Ser."

"Forgive me, my Princess, but that was that beast 'liking me'?"

Maela just giggles once again, "If he didn't, we'd know... or I'd know, I suppose."

༻ •𖢻• ༺

𝔏ate into the hour after midday, as the sun finally shone through the bout of clouds, sending it's warmth unto the lands below, young Maelera finds herself occupying the balcony attached to the Queen's bed chamber with babe Aemond held to her hip, swaying as she gently bounces him to a tune she hums in the air around them.

   They were just several minutes beforehand playing with wooden blocks, stacking them up as high as they could go only to let their imaginary castles tumble to the ground, but Aemond grew bored thus Maelera, calling him to her, took him onto the balcony.

   Awaiting the other half of her being, the babe gurgles as he fiddles with a piece of the silver in Maela's hair. She softly giggles, kissing his nose.

   Aemond shrieks, shaking his head as he, although gently, swats at her hand, though, the smile lifting his youthful still adorably chubby features betrays him, therefore Maela kisses his nose again.

   "Maeya! It tickles!"

   Maelera just giggles, bringing his cheek against hers as she affectionately nuzzles him, a tender display of sheer affection little Aemond reciprocates.

   Whenever Maelera Bloodmoon were not in the presence of Aegon or Balerion, she were with the youngest of the Queen's children, Aemond.

   The three summers old babe, ever since the day he met her, utterly adores his wild cousin, often calling out for her whenever she were not around him, and Maelera adores him, seeking out the little one whenever she needed peace.

   Little Aemond was becoming the sun to her flames—a home for her fire to return to, to keep her grounded.

   Amidst the past week as the Queen found herself with erratic bouts of sickness, especially in the early morrows or after supper, Maelera had taken to tucking the little one into bed at night, either telling him a story of Old Valyria or humming the lullaby her mother would sing to her.

   'Twas no lie the bonds between the young princess and the sons of the beloved Queen strengthened with every day that came and went.

   A winged shadow envelopes the entirety of the Red Keep as Balerion the Dread passes overhead with a bellowing grumble.

   As the largest dragon in the world dances above the capital, numerous eyes from below or within the Red Keep watch, fascinated though wary.

   For Balerion the Dread is the beast that brought the whole world to heel, his mighty breath having forged the wheel that rolls over rich and poor, crushing those on the ground.

   The Black Dread was the last remnant of an empire whose like shall never be seen again.

   "Dragon."

   Maela's lips quirk into a grin as she eagerly nods, soft thumb stroking his cheek. "That's right, Aem. That's Balerion the Dread, my dragon." She sweetly tucks a stray silver lock behind his ear. "One day, we will fly together... mayhaps I'll take you on a flight with Balerion."

   As little Aemond squeals with laughter as Maela tickles his neck, his weak spot she discovered, a lovely voice drifts through her ears, "I hope that time is not anywhere near."

   Maela turns to see the Queen, her savior, leaning against the door frame while clutching her stomach, 'twas obvious to the young girl that Alicent just returned from another bout of sickness.

   The young ward worries for her Queen, but the truth that comforts her is the knowledge that the best of the all the maesters in Westeros are stationed in the Red Keep, meaning lovely Alicent is receiving the utmost care she can get in this world.

   She giggles, "No promises, Your Grace."

   Alicent chuckles, a beautiful sound like delicate bells, and then does her second son notice her presence.

   "𝐌𝐮𝐧̃𝐚!" ( mother )

   The babe reaches for his mother and Maela hands him off to Alicent, whom runs her hand through his silver locks as she flowers his cheek with kisses, bringing bouts of giggles from Aemond.

   Although Maelera smiles at the tender sight, a sadness roams her eyes watching mother and son.

   She misses hers, so much.

   Young Maela were gifted the time to properly grieve the death of Rhea Royce away from Runestone, away from things that would only serve to remind her of her mother. Maelera could finally walk without an ache in her chest, but there were still those days when she'd awake in silent tears after having a dream that were only a memory of her and Rhea together.

   Alicent notices–sees the sorrow roaming the young she-dragon's eyes. A sorrow of her own pinches her heart at the sight.

   "Mayhaps we can visit the Sept before supper?"

   The motherless child looks up at her, then nods with a soft grin that doesn't reach her eyes.

   Maelera Bloodmoon does not believe in any gods, she hasn't prayed since the day those cruel gods stole her mother from her.

   The Daughter of Death decided she didn't need any gods to blindly give her faith to when she has herself and the dragons–beings that bow to the whims of neither gods nor men.

   But Maela does like the quiet of the Grand Sept. No one would bother you there.

༻ •𖢻• ༺

( art does not belong to me )

༻ •𖢻• ༺

     𝔗rue to their word, the Queen and Princess travel to the Grand Sept as the glorious sun begins to sink into the horizon for slumber, the sky cast in brilliant hues of apricot, lilac, and gold as if a skilled painter took his paintbrush and stroked it across the canvas that is the domain of dragons.

   The dark marble walls of the Sept glisten beneath the setting sunlight as the pair ascend the stairs leading to the grand doors, the seven crystal towers glimmering just the same as the day Maela arrived in King's Landing.

And still, the Grand Sept were the most beautiful building Maelera had ever seen.

A grand seven-pointed star were carved into the marble above the doors that shrilly screech as the pair of Kingsguard, whom trailed behind the Queen and Princess, push them open.

Within, the Grand Sept were even more marvelous. With stone carved into circular benches spread amidst the center of the building, surfaces obscured by melted wax of the burning candles laid atop the stone.

Beams of sunlight drip through the gap in the ceiling, illuminating the Sept, though, 'twas normally a place of shadows no matter how bright the sun shone, Maela discovered.

Though, the statues of the Seven were perhaps the most resplendent pieces within the Sept. All reaching the ceiling in all seven corners of the grand building, jeweled eyes peering into the souls of all whom entered, observing them for sins.

Maelera likes to think she would pray to the Warrior the most–for the strength to wield a sword like Queen Visenya Targaryen and a bow like her mother.

The scent of burning candles and incense invades her nose as Maela kneels upon a cushion beside the Queen at one of the numbers prayer benches, the air quiet with the mumbles of prayers.

Maelera clasps her hands together then rests her head on the prayer bench, the stone cold against her always so warm skin. Allowing the soothing quiet of Alicent's voice as she speaks her seven prayers and the ancient yet regal air of the Sept to overcome her senses–letting them dull so she may find peace for just a moment.

Maelera then found that place between her heart and soul where Balerion rests, finding his being even as it is separate from hers that had taken deep root within her, gifting her his strength–his fire.

In this moment, Maelera and Balerion cease to be two separate entities and become one.

They are fire become flesh. They are power.

They are the coin–greatness and madness.

Knowing she could become lost in this drunken haze of power, like many Targaryens before her, Maelera Bloodmoon slinks away from that place behind her heart, violet eyes fluttering open.

The statue of the Mother stands across from her, depicted as smiling with love, embodying the concept of mercy.

For but a mere blink, Maelera sees Rhea Royce's face instead of the Mother's, smiling at her with the fierce love only a mother possesses.

Ending the last of her seven prayers, Alicent looks to Maelera and sees the lonely tears glistening midst her Valyrian eyes. A sob tears it's way out of Maela's throat as she conceals her face within her hands, shoulders beginning to tremble with the sheer weight of her sorrow.

Alicent envelopes the young girl in an embrace, memories of her own mother's death entering her mind as Maela silently weeps in her arms. Of how many years it took until the pain she felt faded whenever thinking of her.

"The pain will fade, my sweetling. I promise you that."

'Tisn't until several moments later when young Maelera's pitiful sobs soften into sniffles. Pulling away from the Queen's embrace, she wipes away her tears with the backs of her hands, sniffling again.

Alicent only gently grins at the girl, then grasps one of the long matchsticks and lights the blackened tip with one of the burning candles.

"Here, sweet girl. I found lighting a candle for my mother helped me. Why don't you try the same?"

Maelera looks between the softly flickering match and the candles, hesitating for a moment. But, with a breath, she reaches for the match and brings it into her own trembling hand, lifting it toward one of the unlit candles.

Memories flood into the depths of her mind. Her mother's loving smile. Her mother's gentle eyes. Her mother's delicate voice. Her mother.

A candle softly flickers to life, and a little girl's heavy heart begins to feel a little less broken.

__________༻♕༺___________

༻ Author's Note ༺

We're back!! I miss this book, I ain't lying 🥲

OMG, the angst, I'm all here for it 🥹 But Maela and the Greens are the light of my book-life 🥰

Who else saw all those trailers and screamed?? And yo, imma be pissed if HBO and those damn writers make Alicent choose Rhaenyra over her own children 🙃

If that does happen, let's hope it don't 😑 I will not be standing for that in this book, Alicent and her five kids will be together through it all, thick and thin 🫡

And I seriously cannot get enough of Maela and Balerion 😍🤩