༻♕༺

𝕿𝐇𝐄 𝕷𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝕿𝐑𝐄𝐄

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

༻ •𖢻• ༺

𝕬 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖌 𝖕𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊𝖘𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖊𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖘𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 her prince walks through the Royal Gardens under the soft golden light of the early morrow.

Maelera never talked much about her mother, yet Aegon knew today, her first nameday without Rhea, would sadden her greatly. Therefore, after breaking their fast together with Alicent and her other three children, Aegon offered to walk her through the gardens before his sword training.

The joy of her namedays had turned to ashes in her mouth, as the day of her mother's death 'twere only a week after this day.

Maela wishes her mother was still here. Here to hunt their suppers, here to tell her fantastical stories of the old Royce Kings before bed, hells, even here to scold her when she snuck a bite of her sweets before her proper food.

She wishes, so much, that her mother got to see her fly with Balerion. But, Maela likes to think whenever she flies so high in the sky, where the air becomes so thin every breath is a labor, she is with her mother. As if the gentle caress of the wind is her mother's fingers combing her hair, and the warmth of the sun is her mother's kisses on her cheeks.

A breath of sorrow falls from her lips, and grief ripples through her dragon eyes.

But, looking at the prince beside her, Aegon's presence at her side is like bright sunshine, burning away all the grey clouds of despair threatening to overtake her.

A Targaryen alone in the world, 'tis a terrible thing, but Maelera Bloodmoon is not alone.

In the depths of the lively garden, the young pair come across a lemon tree that has a smile blooming on Maela's lips as she bounds off toward it. Aegon follows, giving her a curious look when she turns to him after standing on her toes to pluck one of the ripe lemons from a lower-hanging branch.

"Right outside the window in my chambers in Runestone, there was a garden with a lemon tree. Such a rare thing in the Vale. If I stretched my arm out far enough, I could grab one of the lemons and munch on it while I read some book about dragons and Valyrians."

"I've always found them rather sour."

Maela just chuckles, "Yes, I suppose they are." Though, the joy bringing a glimmer to her youthful features falls into a frown as she stares at the bright yellow lemon in her hands. "Mother would have the cooks bake me lemon cakes when the moons of their growth came. On my namedays, she let me eat the cakes before my proper food."

The sorrow marring her face grips his heart in agony's grasp, thus Aegon unsheathes the dagger at his hip and peels the outer skin of the lemon then slices the fruit in half, handing her one of the halves.

The soft grin she gives him makes his heart flutter. She bites down on her half, only to lift her hand with a short laugh as the sour juices drip down her chin. Aegon chuckles, taking a bite of his half.

Yet he horribly fails to withhold a grimace at the sour taste on his tongue. She giggles, taking the rest of his half and tossing it between her teeth with a content hum.

The younglings continue their walk through the Royal Gardens, conversing softly about random and mundane things, sharing soft smiles and laughs, until the Prince needed to attend his training.

Returning to the Red Keep, Maela ventures to the young Prince Aemond's bedchamber, where she finds the boy with two of the Queen's handmaidens.

Upon noticing her arrival, little Aem giggles in glee and rushes over to his cousin. She smiles, spinning him around as he jumps into her arms. "𝐁𝐲𝐤𝐚 𝐦𝐞̄𝐫𝐞." She greets, giving him a peck on the cheek. ( little one )

The women bow their heads respectfully to the Princess. A murmur of "Princess," echoing across the chamber.

Holding Aemond to her hip, "I will be stealing away the Prince." She declares, flattening her palm on his cheek, tracing the soft skin with her thumb, when he rests his head beneath her chin with a gentle coo.

One of the maidens, foolishly, tries to deny the Bloodmoon, claiming the young prince were needed elsewhere, only to be met with a glare from dragon eyes.

The Princess needn't say anything for the maiden submits quite easily, appeasing Maelera. And a smile stretched across her lips before she left the chambers with a skip, though wary not to bounce the boy.

"Where we go, Maeya?" Little Aem asks, curious violet eyes, yet so full of trust, looking up at her. "To meet someone, sweet boy." She answers.

"Who?"

Her grin is impish, "'Tis a surprise." He giggles as she tickles his neck, his weak spot, playfully batting her hands away.

Maelera knew his mother, the Queen, would never in a thousand years allow what her ward 'tis about to do, therefore, Maela carried little Aem to her chambers, snuck through the door behind the tapestry, and now traverses through the secret halls behind the walls that were becoming as familiar to Maela as the caverns beneath the pit. For she had marked each passageway she uses the most with white kohl drawn in different shapes.

The ones she follows presently are in the shape of the sun, for the white shores beneath Aegon's High Hill glimmer exquisitely beneath the sun.

Emerging from the cavern's maw–connecting the beach to the tunnels into the Keep–Maela smiles at the sight of her boy awaiting them. Balerion the Dread. His scales reflecting the sunlight, the red swirls midst the black glittering like woven gemstones.

Setting the young prince down on his feet, the white grains of sand dipping beneath their weight with every step, Maela clasps Aemond's hand within her own as she leads him over to Balerion.

Upon coming closer to the largest dragon in the world, Aemond leans into his cousin's side, squeezing her hand enveloping his in warmth. Stopping, Maela looks away from her Dread and down at the boy staring up at her with wide eyes.

She smiles, reassuringly squeezing his hand. "Fear not, my little dragon. Balerion with never harm you." Maelera knows her dragon will never harm someone she cares so deeply for.

And when they stand before the largest in the whole world, the boy does not cry, does not scream in terror, at the gigantic snout inching closer to him, instead he outstretches his hand to pet the beast, whose chest rumbles with guttural purrs.

All while Maelera watches with a bright smile.

She truly wished to fly with little Aem that day, but knew not to push her luck should the Queen ever discover what she has done this day.

But Aemond were not harmed, that was all that mattered.

   "𝐎𝐥𝐯𝐢𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐚̄𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚 𝐛𝐢𝐬𝐲 𝐢𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐬. 𝐙𝐢𝐫𝐲 𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝, 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐪𝐚𝐫 𝐧̃𝐮𝐡𝐨." ( this one is very dear to me. he is aemond, my cousin )

   A gust of pale steam engulfs the young Targaryens when Balerion huffs, a curious rumble issuing from his gut. Little Aem giggles in glee, stroking the ebony scales.

   "Balerion is pretty, Maeya." He looks up at her with a smile, and she tenderly tucks a silver lock behind his ear with a soft chuckle, "I'm glad you think so, Aemond."

   His young heart fills with pride at her praise.

   Though, with the short attention span of youth, the little one bounds off towards the glittering white shore of the Blackwater with giggles tumbling from his smiling lips.

Maela shakes her head with a smile, "𝐑𝐢𝐧̃𝐚𝐫." She chuckles fondly. A foamy-white wave, twice the size of the boy, knocks Aemond over–her heart leaps into her throat–only for Aem to bounce to his feet with exuberant laughter. ( children )

Balerion blows a warm gust of air against the girl's back.

   When Maela doesn't acknowledge him, watching little Aem play in the water, the dragon gently nudges her with his snout, a low bellow emitting from his throat.

   For a creature of his immense size, Maela found that her boy could be very gentle with her–a girl barely the size of one of his smallest teeth.

   Maela caves into the persisting with a giggle, turning to her dragon. Without hesitation, Balerion lowers his head to the sand and closes his smoldering red eyes, awaiting his rider to caress the onyx scales of his snout like she always does. And as always, the Daughter of Death indulges him.

   She presses her nose to her dragon's snout, "𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐤𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧." She praises. ( proud )

   In sync, the pair close their eyes. In this moment, they cease to be two separate entities and become one, a being of fire and death. Balerion's throat rumbles with a purr, leaning into Maelera.

   She giggles, kissing the rock-hard scales. "𝐀𝐯𝐲 𝐣𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐚̄𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧, my Dread." ( i love you )

   Maelera Bloodmoon does not exist without Balerion the Dread.

   "Maeya! Maeya!" Little Aem beckons. And Maela chuckles, giving Balerion's warm scales a farewell kiss before she bade him fly, then, trots over to her cousin sitting by the pale shoreline.

   "What have you found there?" She smiles. Aemond lifts a five-point starfish to her, "This." She giggles at the proud shine to his violet eyes, thinking he's discovered a sparkling treasure.

   Though, the bright blue creature with little beads of dark blue dotting it's five limbs 'twas very beautiful, it's slimy texture shimmering beneath the sparkling sunlight.

   Not bothered by the cold waters lapping over her dress, Maela lowers herself onto the sand behind the boy and drags him onto her lap. Aemond traces the starfish in his hands curiously, fascinated by it's beauty.

   "These little creatures can re-grow lost limbs, and so, in some beliefs, they represent healing, or rebirth. I once heard a sailor that came from Gulltown say they also symbolize guidance and protection to those lost at sea; to remind us we are not alone in this wide world."

   Aem twists around in her hold, offering the starfish to her with a smile, "Here. I don't want you to think you are alone, Maeya, so keep it with you."

   Maela would never have known her heart could overflow with such love if it weren't for this moment with Aemond in her lap offering her such a sweet and innocent promise. She smiles so widely her cheeks begin to ache with her fondness, and tucks a wet lock of silver hair from his cheek. "Thank you, 𝐝𝐨̄𝐧𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐞. But I don't need this little creature to remind me of that. You know why?" He shakes his head. "Because I'll always have you, your brothers and sister, and your mother with me.. won't I?" ( sweet thing )

   He nods, "You will!" She giggles, flattening her palms on his cheeks to shower his crown of silver with kisses. Her heart swells as his laughter fills the crisp air.

   "Now how about we return this little thing to the sea, so he can remind those who are lost they aren't alone, either, mm?"

   Holding the boy to her hip, Maela stands from the soft sand and together, the young Targaryens toss the starfish back into the sea, watching it fade midst the depths.

   "Maeya?" She hums in acknowledgment, dark purple eyes still watching the rippling sea. "I'll always have you too, right?"

   Maela meets his violet eyes, and smiles, "Always, Aemond. Until the sky burns, you will have me."

༻ •𖢻• ༺

     𝖂hen dusk fell, the Royal Family gathers in the candlelit dining hall for supper in honor of Princess Maelera, whom did not want for a huge celebration, though, her uncle did offer. 

Viserys sits at the head of the table with his wife at the other end. Maela and little Aem were opposite Helaena and Aegon, with the girls shouldering the Queen. The Crowned Princess, Rhaenyra Targaryen, sits across from her husband, Ser Laenor Velaryon, closest to the King.

At the moment, Maelera were receiving her gifts. A silver ring molded into the shape of a slithering dragon with a fragment of dark green emerald in place of its eye from lovely Alicent, which Maela slips onto her finger with a jubilant smile, thanking the Queen.

Unbeknowist to Maela, but the piece of jewelry 'twere the Queen's way of claiming her ward as hers for Alicent knew the young girl did not hold herself to the Seven or the Old Gods any longer. If Maelera had, she would've gifted to her a golden, seven-pointed star necklace to mirror her and Helaena's own.

A hand-held marble figurine carved into a three-headed dragon from her uncle-king, with gemstones in place of the dragons' eyes–ruby, amethyst, and smoky quartz.

For her three dragon eggs, Maela realizes with a smile.

Then a silver necklace with a pendant in the shape of House Targaryen's sigil from sweet Hel. Maela clasps it around her neck, the necklace fitting perfectly beneath her mother's.

She vows, just like she'd never remove her mother's–lest she were traversing the city streets–she'd never take off the ring nor the necklace.

The Princes gift to Maelera, were a dagger–much to the worry of Alicent. The blade of the dagger, no longer than her forearm and adorned with spirals of obsidian dragonglass, was slim and shiny, and the hilt black, dragonbone with a ruby gem at the tip, glinting winsomely in the candlelight.

Maela utterly adorned the blade and tucked it unto her belt with a smile, kissing the little one's cheek. She hoped to learn how to properly wield it some day.

And from the Crowned Princess and her husband, were tomes on the Valyrian and Targaryen histories, a subject Maelera's interests favored and she couldn't wait to read these new texts.

The servants then flock into the hall with various platters of supper–sizzling meats and roasted fish, steaming stews and soups, mouth-watering meat pies, strawberry cake, sugared star fruit, along with silver bowls of fruit are all laid upon the table.

The last dish, though, is what catches Maela's attention. A platter holding a delicately stacked array of lemon cakes.

She lifts her gaze to Aegon, who shyly smirks, looking down at his lap with pink dusting his cheeks.

A grin tilts her lips, fondness softening her eyes. It meant a lot to her that he did this, that he remembered something so small yet so important to her.

The hours breeze by so swiftly, Maela smiling and giggling with the family she's come to know. The family she's glad to have met and formed such lasting bonds with on Ser Gerold's wish.

She doesn't know where she might be without them. Without Alicent and her children. Most likely still a sad girl, lost within her grief, she surmises.

As the hours lingered, Maela even asked Ser Laenor about his fighting in the Stepstones, to which he would tell the children over-exaggerated tales just to make them laugh, warming the elders' hearts.

After Laenor's tales of the sea and battles, Viserys began to tell them a story about Balerion that had Maela's undivided attention.

"After the death of the Conqueror, 'tis said Balerion fell in love with a sea dragon. He had rescued the beast from a kraken she had been hunting in the straits of Old Valyria. Gravely injured, Balerion stayed by the sea dragon's side until she healed, and in those weeks, their love blossomed and grew. Even long after she had healed, the sea dragon stayed with Balerion. For a hundred years, they spent starlit nights dancing above the Jade Sea and many a day hunting krakens. But one morning, the sea dragon awoke alone, and sailors who travel through Valyria say her cries can sill be heard anight as she awaits Balerion's return."

   Maelera finds herself wondering if mayhaps her uncle's tale had any truth to it, and, if so, what tore her beloved dragon from his great love.

   What could tear any being from their great love? She thinks to herself with a slight furrow in her brow.

   "The eye boils with the blood of fire." None heard Helaena's mumbled words.

   "That's a rather sad story, Uncle. Do you think there's any truth to it?" Maela asks.

   Viserys grins softly, "I don't know, dear girl. When your dragon left Westeros after the death of Aegon the Conqueror, some said he flew into the east; to the ruins of Valyria. And there he remained for over a hundred years."

   "While others said he flew beyond the Wall in the North to battle giants and Wight Walkers." Her lips quirk with an eager smirk, and Viserys chuckles.

"That he may have, Maelera. None could truly know for certain, not even those of Targaryen blood."

She hums in thought. Then Aegon asks his father to tell them the tale of Daenys the Dreamer claiming the Black Dread–at the time no bigger than a horse–the night before her fateful dream of the Doom.

Viserys happy tells it, and by the end, Maela stood and walked around the table to Helaena's side, holding out her hand. The Quiet Princess eagerly took it, her lips blooming with a smile brighter than the sun.

The princesses moved to the center of the dining hall where they danced and spun around to the soft languid tunes emitting from the stage the bards were plucking their instruments from.

They twist away from each other then spun until their backs collide, lifting their arms in tandem slowly and entwining their pinkies. After a breath of stillness, the young girls spin with a leap back to face each other, holding out a hand.

Maela takes two steps toward Helaena with a smirk only for her to take one step back. They switch roles, repeating this movement twice with soft giggles tumbling from their smiling lips.

Twirling away, the princesses begin to circle the floorboards they joyously dance across, steadily closing the distance between them whilst raising an arm inch by inch with every step towards one another.

When they met in the very center of the hall, they entwine their forearms and spin around whilst holding up their dresses with their other hand, smiling and giggling with hearts full of delight.

Those at the table watch the innocent joy of youth dancing before them with tender smiles, the elders wishing their lives could still be so simple.

The princesses shared dance after dance until little Aem decided he wanted a turn to dance with Maela. And, as always, she never denied him.

Twirling away to the melodic symphony of the bards, for a time, Maela forgot all about her mother's death.

༻ •𖢻• ༺

     𝕷ong after supper, with moonbeams pouring through the windows and illuminating her chambers, Maela sits upon the cushioned windowsill, staring out at Blackwater Bay twinkling in the silvery light. The purple dragon egg laid in her lap as she traces the rough, scaly texture.

A knock suddenly disrupts the solemn silence engulfing the room. Ser Melvan peeks his head inside the bed chamber. "Prince Aegon wishes to enter."

Maela's once forlorn features instantly brighten, hopping down from the sill. "Let him in." She grants with a smile. And so Aegon walks in and Ser Melvan closes the door behind the young prince.

With a skip to her step, Maela approaches her late-night guest with a kiss on the cheek, cradling the dragon egg in the curve of her arm. "I wanted to thank you for tonight. The lemon cakes. It was... It meant a lot to me."

Aegon's pale cheeks flush pink, shoulders rising to shyly tuck his head between. "You're welcome."

Clutching the egg to her chest with one arm, Maela grasps Aegon's hand, "Come. Sit with me by the fire." The prince does so, letting the princess guide him over to the softly flickering hearth to sit cross-legged on the woollen carpet beside Maela, whom sits on her haunches with the egg atop her thighs.

A giggle erupts from her throat at his curious gaze fixated on the egg, its scaly shell glimmering in the orange -and-yellow light of the flames.

"Touch it." She offers with a gentle grin tilting the corners of her lips. Aegon blinks then, tentatively, he reaches his hand out to graze the tips of his fingers along the egg's rock-hard scales.

They were warm to the touch, he notices with a wonderstruck smile lifting his lips. "How did you get your eggs, Maela?" He queries in a whisper.

"I've always had them. Balerion gave them to my mother the night of my birth, and she put them in my cradle." She grins wistfully down at the egg she cradles like the most precious thing in the world. "I've never been without them."

The young heart within his chest flutters at the soft expression on her ethereal features. He wishes to capture that look on a painting, but thinks mere paint could never amount to her true beauty. But then, his brows crease when he realizes her words.

"You never tried to hatch them?"

Maela tilts her head, "No. Should I have?"

"Well.. yes, I-I suppose. When my mother was pregnant with me, Helaena, then Aemond, Rhaenyra chose a dragon egg for each of our cradles. You chose Daeron's." She softly smiles at the memory of her and her cousins venturing to the Dragonpit to chose an egg for the Queen's babe days before he were born with the King watching over them. "And the days we were born, the Dragon Keepers put the eggs in a great flame to hatch them. Only Sunfyre and Daeron's did. It is a tradition for us Targaryens."

Maela softly shakes her head, shoulders rising then falling with a lazy shrug. "Mother nor anyone else must have known to."

"We could take them to the Dragonpit and have the Keepers perform the ceremony?" He offers.

But she gently shakes her head. She still oh-so-loathes those dragon slavers. "They were meant for me. Only I will bring them into the world."

The three eggs were Balerion the Dread's only known clutch, and he laid them just before the stormy night of her birth. No man would hatch them, only she.

The prince just nods. "But I thank you for the offer." She grins and kisses his cheek.

Turning to the hearth, Maela scoots closer to it and reaches her arms out towards the flickering flames. Young Aegon startles with a flinch, lurching forward to grasp her wrist and yank her away from the flames... only for him to freeze at the impossible sight.

The flames were not harming Maelera Dragonborn.

Her skin did not even turn pink as the fire caressed it. And Aegon's lilac irises look between the unburnt skin of her arms and Maelera's eyes; dragon's eyes with flames dancing upon their reflection.

They were the most beautiful he's ever seen. She is beautiful... extraordinary. There was no one else in this wide world like Maelera Bloodmoon.

And he never wants to look away.

__________༻♕༺___________

Canon: Maela loves lemons 🍋😌.

Short but many things happened, lol. My baby girl and her boys are my favorite, 🤧. There are now only seven chapters left of part one and things are picking up!! Uh, I can't wait to write the rest and get into the episode plot, 😝!!

I just want to thank all of the lovely readers who've stayed around this long, ghost readers or not lol I love and appreciate all of you the same, 😘. And I hope all of you will stick around a bit longer for what's to come, because its gonna be fun, 😉😌.