༻♕༺

𝕿𝐇𝐄 𝕯𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝕾𝐔𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝕱𝐈𝐑𝐄

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 || 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆'𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆
𝟑ʳᵈ 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 || 𝟏𝟐𝟏 𝐀𝐂

༻ •𖢻• ༺

'𝕿𝖜𝖆𝖘 𝖔𝖋 𝖓𝖔 𝖉𝖔𝖚𝖇𝖙 𝕸𝖆𝖊𝖑𝖊𝖗𝖆 𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖋𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖎𝖓 well with the Royal Family. For even now, the young princesses were wondering throughout the Royal Gardens together, searching for bugs.

   For some weeks now, ever since Maela had found Helaena in the gardens holding a mantis and showed genuine interest in the little insect, the young girls grew into the habit of sitting together in the gardens as Helaena looked for bugs and told Maelera all she knew about the ones she'd find.

Whilst her relationship with the Princess grew, as did hers with the Princes.

   Having decided to share their lessons in Old Valyrian, Maela and Aegon discovered they'd many common interests in those hours together. Their love for dragons, their dragons especially, and a thirst for knowledge on their Valyrian ancestry, a weakness for sweets–an easy way to bribe them into behaving–and their rambunctiousness.

   Little Aemond grew with every day that passed and, as he began to walk on his own, clutched to Maelera's skirts wherever she went. She'd whisper sweet little Valyrian words to him when they watched the dragons dance in the sky and most nights, after he begged hard enough–Maela was finding it increasingly difficult to deny him as their bond grew–she would sing him to sleep. 

   He loves the sound of her voice, whether she were singing to him or telling him stories.

   Though, Maelera hadn't properly met Princess Rhaenyra nor Ser Laenor. She saw them in the halls of the keep, or during feasts, but she never really talked to them. Even though they shared blood, they were familiar, but not family.

   Ser Melvan once told her to choose her friends wisely here in King's Landing and to those words, Maela took heed. Thus, she kept herself in the company of the Queen and her children.

"Trust to Alicent Hightower and her children, and only them, Maelera." Ser Gerold had said to her the day she decided to name the treacherous King's Landing her home.

With dappled sunlight dripping onto their Valyrian features, Maela walks arm in arm with Helaena across the cobblestone paths winding throughout the Royal Gardens, their every step clicking against the stone. They find a patch of grass to settle on, the Blackwater Bay glittering like topaz gems under the soft morning light behind them.

   Leaning back on the palms of her hands, Maelera basks in the pale sunlight as Helaena splits the strands of grass apart in search of bugs. Excitement decorates her smile when she finds a slender, little creature with a pink underbelly and no eyes.

   Maela looks to her cousin when she begins telling her all she knew of the worm. "It breathes through it's skin, not like other creatures, and it relies on it's sense of touch to see where it's going."

Maela softly grins and extends her hand to hold it. Helaena lowers the worm onto her palm, and she giggles at the slimy feel of its belly. "It's rather slimy." A soft chuckle passes Helaena's smile, "Yes, I suppose so. The slim helps it move faster on smooth surfaces, like leaves or a tree branch." Maela smiles at her friend, she certainly knew many things about all the bugs in the Royal Gardens, it was intriguing.

   The princeses would sit together in the gardens like this–searching for bugs, then talking about them, only to find another–for many an hour, until Aegon with his younger brother found them as the sun reached its highest peek in the near cloudless sky.

   "Maeya!" The young girl turns to the youthful voice she knows all too well and gently returns the millipede crawling around her hand to Helaena before standing to meet Aemond halfway. He jumps into her arms and she spins him. "Oh, 𝐛𝐲𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞̄𝐫𝐞, you're growing far too fast." She giggles. The young boy now stands to her waist and were certainly heavier. ( little one )

   Maela greets Aegon with a smile, "Hello, Aeg."

   He groans, "Mae..." She giggles, knowing he hates the nickname she often teases him with.

   Returning to Helaena's side, Maela sits beside her with Aemond on her lap and Aegon leaning his back against hers, laying his head on her shoulder as he gazes up at the beautiful, cloudless sky above.

   Aegon took to the skies on Sunfyre just the week past, and there was nothing greater in the world than flying on dragonback. A craving–always unfilled no matter how many hours a day he spent astride his beloved dragon–awoke within him that day.

   The young prince curls up on her lap, like one of the cats that reside in the keep, resting his cheek on her bosom as Maela began to softly hum, rubbing circles on his back.

In the presence of three of those she cares mosr about, Maela softly sighs in content, gazing up at the sky as she leans into Aegon and lays her head on his shoulder, as well.

She wants to fly today, she decides.

The children of the Queen with their cousin just enjoy one anothers company for hours until Hel is summoned for her sewing lessons and Aeg for training, and so Maela carries her sleeping Aemond back to his nursery before walking to her chambers to dress herself for a flight on Balerion.

༻ •𖢻• ༺

     𝖀p in the azure sky, Balerion the Dread gives forth a bellowing screech.

Up and up they flew, Balerion's great wings beating against the wind. The wisps of damp air kisses Maela's cheeks and she breathes in great lungfuls of clouds. No better air could be found than up in the clouds on the back of her boy.

Warm sunlight kisses her cheeks when the dragon breaches the clouds, and Maela expels a soft breath. The air is utterly still, the whistling of the wind just gone. Everything else left beneath them. The clouds glow golden below as the sun shone above. And Balerion roars happily.

The great noise vibrates her belly, and Maela laughs, rubbing his tar-colored scales.

She twists to lay on her back–one hand resting atop her stomach, feeling every rise and fall, as the other rubs circles on Balerion's rock-hard scales.

The mighty dragon purrs–deep and guttural–at her touch, and a grin spreads across her lips.

Maela looks up at the ever closer sky. She felt if she reached her hand out far enough, she could touch the sun. She wonders if it would burn her. The sun was the father of fire, if fire did not harm her, why would the sun?

   Mayhaps one day Balerion would fly her so high they could touch the everlasting sun.

   With a low hum, her deep plum eyes with violet -and-black veins fall close, the wind carrying away all of her thoughts until only serenity is left. Aside from lovely Alicent and her children, being with her dragon brings the young princess the most respite and peace in this harsh and unforgiving world.

   Yet Maela often wonders if Balerion misses the plains of Runestone just as she does most nights when she lay awake, staring up at the ceiling.

   The guttural purr of her beloved dragon ripples through her bones, curving her lips with a grin, and she rubs his scales. Through a soft exhalation, "I miss Runestone, 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐲𝐬 𝐧̃𝐮𝐡𝐨. The rolling hills and the plains covered in fields of flowers we would lay in for hours upon hours until Mother eventually found us. I'm sure you miss it, as well?" ( my fire )

Balerion grumbles.

"We will return one day, my Dread.. I know it."

He emits a shrill screech, and Maela smirks. They will return to Runestone one day once she comes of age and knows what it is to rule–to protect. "We will return." She mutters to herself.

Reassured by that thought, no, that truth, Maela closes her dark purple eyes with a breath, the cool evening breeze caressing her sun-kissed cheeks.

   With nothing but the hush of air and the drum of Balerion's wings to hear, Maelera flew. The wash of her dragon's heat burning away all of her woes for those few short hours. 

༻ •𖢻• ༺

𝖂hilst the sun dips into the horizon, after bathing and attending her history studies, Maela found herself singing her little cousin a lullaby in the Old Valyrian tongue to lull him into slumber.

According to his mother, little Aemond refused to be put to bed 'lest it were by his cousin. It only amused Alicent and Maelera.

"I fear my darling boy loves you more than his own mother." Alicent had chuckled.

Now, holding Aemond to her hip, lightly bouncing him, he rests his head under her chin with a whispered babble of incoherent words. And her lips quirk with a grin, stroking her pinkie down his nose. The young prince coos.

As she sung, they watched Balerion float above the Blackwater, dancing beneath the moonlight.

"'𝐓𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥,
𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞,
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬,
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝,
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭,
𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧,
𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐞𝐬,
𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧,
𝐒𝐩𝐮𝐧 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧,
𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞,
𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞."

Once the words faded into soft hums, Maela looks down at the sweet boy to see he'd fallen asleep. A soft smile blooms on her lips, and she kisses his head as she strokes a hand through his silver hair. Walking over to the cradle, Maela tucks little Aem in, then, after kissing his crown of silver and wishing sweet dreams upon him, leaves the nursery and quietly shuts the door behind her.

Her sworn shield, Ser Melvan, awaits her outside the door, greeting her with a sly grin. "Ah, the love of a young lad. 'Tis a beautiful thing."

Maelera huffs, "Shut up." Though, the amusement tugging at her lips betrays her.

Retiring to her bed-chamber, Maela turns to her loyal knight, whom became a friend and a trusted confident during these past months, to bid him farewell for the night, "Goodnight, Ser Melvan." He bows his head with a grin whilst stepping into his position outside her door, "Sleep well, Princess."

Closing the door behind her, Maelera begins removing the bands holding her braids in as she walks to the vanity, sitting herself upon the cushioned stool. Unweaving the braids, a sudden gasp of shock erupts from her lips as the tapestry is pushed aside by a shadowy hand.

Maelera arms herself with a brush as she stands, but the shadow were only Aegon. She expels a breath and sets the brush down. "You scared the hells out of me. What are you doing here at such an hour?"

In the dim candlelight, flickering with orange -and-yellow heat, she notices the cloak around his shoulders and the bag in his hand. She lifts a curious brow. Chucking the bag onto the bed, an excited smirk tilts his lips. "Come on. Put them on." Maelera softly shakes her head with a grin, still confused, "Where are we going?"

"To the Dragonpit. I want you to meet someone."

His excitement seeps into her as she mirrors his excited smile, taking the bag and dumping whatever were within onto the bed. Clothes, common clothes. Maela huffs a chuckle, then, turns to the awaiting prince.

"Well, are you going to turn around like a proper gentleman, or just stand there staring?"

Aegon snickers, yet turns around nonetheless. And Maela quickly puts on the clothes–trousers that are just an ankle too long, therefore, she stuffs the ends in the peeling leather boots, a beige tunic with sleeves a hand too long and a cerulean-blue jacket. Removing her mother's necklace and placing it in her box of jewelry on the vanity, never wanting to loose it, Maela stuffs her recognizable hair into the brown beanie.

She looks at herself in the polished mirror, and thinks, she isn't a princess in these clothes, she isn't Maelera Bloodmoon, she is just Maelera. And the freedom that thought fills her with is exhilarating. In this disguise, she has no duties, no obligations, no worries. Just... freedom.

"You may look now." Aegon turns and Maela gives him a little twirl. He chuckles. "Come on." He offers his hand, and she takes it.

   The beauty of Maela's features radiates with joy as she trots behind Aegon into the secret tunnels behind the walls. The darkness envelopes them wholly, but Maelera was never afraid of the dark. She blinks her eyes furiously until they adjust to the dim moonlight beaming through the equidistant windows along the brick walls. But then, she realizes, as she follows Aegon through the dark, dusty, and rather eerie, tunnels that "these" were the secrets Maegor the Cruel butchered thousands to conceal. So much needless blood and death for a few dusty halls. It saddens her.

They traverse down several flights of curved staircases, until they find themselves in the Dragon Crypts–a cavernous hall built beneath the Red Keep dedicated to the deceased dragons of House Targaryen. Maela hadn't yet seen it. And she awes at the magnificent skulls of Mereaxes the Unforgotten Queen, Quicksilver, and Darksmoke the Damned rested atop daises with flickering candles encircling the black skulls.

Maelera slows as the beauty of the skulls stops her in place, marveling at their sheer scale and magnificence even in death. She looks past the holes that were once the eyes of these dragons, and remembers the history texts written about all their deeds and demises.

Meraxes', killed by a bolt in the eye by the Dornish in the era of the Conquest.

Quicksilver, slain by Darksmoke in the Battle Beneath the Gods Eye when Aegon the Uncrowned challenged Maegor's rule. 'Twas said Darksmoke made quick work of Quicksilver, and thus it 'tweren't much of a battle at all.

   And Darksmoke, the vicious mount of Maegor the Cruel whom died a week after his death–damned to be bound to the Cruel for all his short life.

   She wonders if Balerion's skull would one day decorate these crypts after his death. But she shoves those thoughts away, 'tis too morbid for her.

Life without Balerion tethered to her heart and soul doesn't exist for Maelera Dragonborn. She wouldn't exist without him, for they are two sides of the same coin, they are one. Theirs a song of fire and death.

Continuing through the Dragon Crypts, they come across a set of switchback stairs that lead to the Street of Sisters–connecting Rhaenys' Hill to Visenya's–but as Aegon goes to walk down the stairs, Maelera hesitates.

Maelera Bloodmoon, even at her young age, does not fear a great many things in this world, but she is still only that–a young girl of seven. She has no dagger to defend herself with, and all of the nobility in the keep always went on about the savage commonfolk in the city below, especially in Flea Bottom.

She fears getting torn to shreds by an angry mob of starving folk, fears the vile men overcome by lust, fears those who would do anything to get their hands on a Targaryen Princess.

But Aegon Targaryen turns to Maelera with a gentle grin lifting his lips, squeezing her hand–warm like sunlight was trapped beneath, and softer than the most expensive silk. "You'll be safe with me." He promises.

Maela looks into his eyes–that light shade of purple like the lilac flowers she loves so much–heartened by his words, knowing 'tis a promise he will keep until his dying breath, and so, with his hand still in hers, they venture into the dangerous streets below, together.

   'Twould seem this were not the young prince's first, nor second, time traversing these twisting streets as he expertly leads the way to the Dragonpit. Or rather, a secret door hardly any knew about that could only be opened with a key. One which only the King holds possession of.

   How Aegon managed to steal said key he uses to unlock the oak -and-iron door, Maela will never know.

   And here she is, beneath the huge domed castle at the crown of Rhaenys' Hill in the caverns everyone not of the blood of the Dragon whispers in terror about.

The dark halls lined with jagged stone were humid with wisps of pale grey steam rising from hot vents and screeches and hisses from the winged creatures nested within echoing throughout the caverns–dug deep into the hillside, fashioned like caves–as Aegon brings Maela to the nest of his dragon. There were forty or so nests–home to the royal dragons of House Targaryen–which had been carved in a great ring, five times as large as the lairs on Dragonstone, supposedly. The man-made caves were closed off at both sides by thick iron gates–the inner gates opened on the sands of the dome above the pit itself, and the outer gates, the Dragons' Entrance, opened to the cliffside.

   Although the purpose of the Dragonpit disgusted young Maela, she could not deny the regality of the imposing structure as silvery moonlight drips through the crevices in the stone, dancing on their Valyrian features.

   An eerie silence settles over the young Targaryens when they step into the pitch darkness of the prince's young dragon's nest, broken by the soft whispers of hissing steam and the soft rattle of chains.

   "𝐌𝐚̄𝐳𝐢 𝐧𝐚𝐞𝐣𝐨𝐭, 𝐕𝐞̄𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐲𝐬." The prince calls out to his dragon. ( come forth, sunfyre )

   There was a shrill rumble and something stirs in the darkness ahead of them. A pale golden glow awakens, radiating like the sun, and begins to slither towards them.

   A smile stretches across Aegon's lips. He plucks a torch from its iron scone on the stone wall and lays it on the ground, stepping back a few steps with Maela. He gives her an excited smile, before he commands, "𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒚𝒔, 𝐕𝐞̄𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐲𝐬."

   A beautiful stream of golden flames brightens the darkness like the sun chases away the night as the he-dragon ignites the torch. And Maela finally sees the dragon. Oh, besides her boy, Sunfyre was the most beautiful dragon she's ever seen. Gleaming scales of gold with pale pink accents. And his eyes, a shade mirroring the perfect sunrise with pink veins.

   Sunfyre is magnificent, his majesty awe-inspiring, his beauty extraordinary.

   With the torch now blazing with gold heat to illuminate the nest, if ever so slightly, with their hands still clasped together, Aegon brings Maela over to his beloved dragon to introduce them to each other.

   "𝐕𝐞̄𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐲𝐬, 𝐛𝐢𝐬𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐚, 𝐡𝐚̄𝐞𝐝𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚. 𝐙𝐢𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐚̄𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚. 𝐒𝐢̄𝐫 𝐭𝐲𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐬ȳ𝐳." ( sunfyre, this is maelera, my cousin. she is very dear to me. so play nice )

Sunfyre nudges the glittering tip of his slender snout against Aegon's chest, his throat rumbling with high-pitched purrs, and Aegon bubbles with laughter, rubbing his scales.

Maela smiles at the endearing sight. The bond between dragons and their riders is such a beautiful thing to witness, even for the Targaryens. 'Tis a thing without words, without thoughts, merely feelings. A binding of hearts and souls for eternity. The most powerful of bonds between two beings.

Nuzzling his rider with a gentleness that always surprises for such ferocious creatures, Sunfyre turns his glowing gaze to Maelera with a shake of his head. He tilts his head with a chirp, then stretches his long neck towards her as his nostrils flare, scenting her.

And, almost immediately, Sunfyre takes to the Dragonborn with a purr rumbling his chest. The thin slits of his pupils widening as he lowers his snout into her hand. Maela smiles, caressing his head crowned with elegantly curved white horns.

"𝐑𝐲𝐭𝐬𝐚𝐬, 𝐕𝐞̄𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐲𝐬. 𝐆𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞 𝐕𝐞̄𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐳𝐲𝐬." The young dragon purrs once again. ( hello, sunfyre. beautiful sunfyre )

Mirroring her smile when she meets his eyes, Aegon chuckles, "He likes you." Maela giggles, continuing to caress Sunfyre's snout as she looks into his ethereal eyes.

"𝐆𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞." She praises softly, he chirps. In sync, dragonborn and dragon close their eyes and rest their heads against each others. Their breaths synchronize, their hearts beat in tandem. In this moment, Maelera Bloodmoon and Sunfyre the Golden are one entity.

And Aegon watches, amazed.

Expelling a soft breath, the dragon and the girl open their eyes again. Maelera smiles. "𝐆𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞, 𝐠𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞." Then, she looks to Aegon. The awe in his gaze makes her blink, "What?"

His lashes flutter as he rapidly blinks, clearing his throat, "Oh, uh.. um... you just, uh... uh, n-nothing, Maela."

Quirking a brow, sharing a glance with Sunfyre, Maelera just softly giggles, deciding not to question her flustered prince about it.

"Do you, uh, want to attend my lessons here? With, um, with me?" He braves the question gnawing at his mind since the moment he saw Maelera fly with the Black Dread that day they met months ago.

Eagerly, Maelera nods. "I'd love too." She hadn't yet seen the dome above the pit–an amphitheater which could seat eighty thousand, easily. And Aegon responds with a smile.

Displeased at the lack of attention, Sunfyre nudges their hands with a grumble. Laughing, the Targaryens give in to the dragon's demand and begin caressing his gleaming snout affectionately. Sunfyre's content purrs vibrate the bones of their hands. And none of them ever want the moment to end. 'Tis peaceful, because here, they are not prince and princess, they do not bare the infamous name Targaryen, they are only Aegon and Maelera.

__________༻♕༺___________

It took absolutely forever, but another is finally here! Its short and probably horrible, but u deserve another chapter! So here it is! I missed this story and all of u lovely readers 🥹.

And yes, the song was based off of Jenny of Oldstones, which doesn't exist in the HOTD timeline so I created another version to fit this story 😉. Sunfyre is so Maela and Aegon's baby, he is their first child 😌. The baby is due next chapter, can anyone guess who???

Anyways, my brain is fried 🙃. And, just to ease any potential worries, I will not be butchering my Greenie babies relationships like writers did 😤. They will stick together until the end 🫡.