Archive of Our Own

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𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧, 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐲—𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐚’𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐚𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐚 𝐚𝐢𝐫, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐨𝐟 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐲—𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡.- But now, it felt like a cage especially made for Maera to lock her in with invisible chains. Perhaps it always was, but Maera didn't realize.

The cool sea air struck her face the moment she stepped onto the docks. Sharp. Violent. Salt-heavy winds tangled themselves through strands of silver-gold hair, sending the thin golden veil secured beneath her tiara fluttering wildly behind her like a banner of conquest. Dark waters crashed restlessly against the black stone beneath the harbor, waves sloshing against the edges of her skirts and staining the pale fabric several shades darker. She barely noticed. A shiver crawled up her spine when cold water hit the underside of her feet.

Dragonstone had always smelled of storms.

Salt. Smoke. Wet stone. Dragons. Even through it had been a great amount of time since one had been there.

Her amethyst eyes swept across the harbor slowly, taking in every movement with quiet calculation. Sailors hauling crates. Guards stationed along the pathways carved into volcanic rock. Servants hurrying through the cold mist gathering near the shore. Above them all stood Dragonstone itself. Ancient. Dark. Watching. The castle rose from the cliffs like something ripped straight from the nightmares of Old Valyria. Twisted towers clawing toward the sky. Dragon-shaped gargoyles curled around stairways and battlements. Black stone gleaming beneath the dying light like wet scales.

Beautiful.

Maera could already feel King’s Landing loosening its claws from around her throat. No suffocating courtiers. No endless whispers slithering through red corridors. No eyes constantly following her every movement beside Baelor. Only the sea. Only Dragonstone. Only him. The realization made her stomach tighten dangerously. Behind her, came the heavy sound of boots against wood. Familiar. Unhurried. She did not need to turn around to know who it was. A warm, large and rough hand wrapped around her slim waist. Warmth seeping through the velvet fabric of her Falcon Blue dress. Suddenly, Maera felt the coldness of the water is overthrown by the warmth. She looked up at him, cracking her neck to see dual-toned eyes already fixed on her. She flushed.

"That is a beautiful colour graced by your sweet cheeks, little dragon." The last two syllables, spoken in the language of their ancestors, rolled from Baelor's tongue with effortless perfection. Poison crawled up Maera's throat. She swallowed it. Barely. "Gevie...."

She muttered. She averted her gaze immediately and stepped forward, skirts brushing against the damp stone. Surprisingly, Baelor said nothing further. He merely followed. Together they ascended the winding steps leading toward Dragonstone's entrance while servants and guards busied themselves unloading the ship behind them. Maera had no intention of looking back. None at all. Then she heard it. A careful metallic clink. Yet she turned with great hesitation. Two guards were carrying an ancient silver chest between them. Its surface was blackened with age, the dragon engravings along its sides worn smooth by centuries of careful hands, bearing the warm Dragon egg, once belonging to her father's namesake. The Dragon egg itself was utterly magnificent, Dark violet. Almost black in certain light. Veins of obsidian streaking across its shell like frozen lightning. Warm but never hatching. A sharp pain intensified on her heart. The utter disappointment that consumed each Dragon monarch and Targaryen when each egg stayed warm but failed to hatch.

A Punishment.

A punishment by the Fourteen Flames for the horrendous murder of the Dragon Queen, Rhaenyra Targaryen. 

"Maera?" she turns back. Baelor stared at her worriedly. "Let us go—" "You've been zoning off to much, darling. Are you alright?" Baelor cut her off. Maera stiffened. It was indeed true that she had been zoning out since her weeding. She had tried her best to yank guilt out of Baelor by convincing him it was because of his actions, to convince herself it was because og her brother-husband. But failed to do so at both. 

"Nothing much. It happens when you have to many eyes upon you, always expecting." Maera muttered dimissively and made her way up the long stairs. Aware of those dark mismatched eyes following.

"Right.........." Baelor followed her.

Maera was grateful the rest of the climb up Dragonstone’s endless steps was spent in silence. Or what passed for silence. Because Baelor’s presence was never truly quiet. Lingering just behind her shoulder like a shadow that had learned how to breathe. Every so often she felt it—those mismatched eyes flicking toward her when she thought she wasn’t looking. Like he was trying to read something carved beneath her skin. She hated that. She hated that it worked. By the time they reached the upper terraces, the wind had grown harsher. It screamed between the stone spires like something alive, pulling at cloaks and veils and anything it could claim. Maera tightened her grip on the railing as they passed beneath the archway carved with ancient dragons.

Below them, the sea roared.

Above them, Dragonstone waited.

The keep’s great doors loomed ahead—iron-banded, blackened, old enough to remember names no one spoke anymore. Servants rushed forward to open them, bowing low as the royal party approached.

Baelor stopped to exchange small-talk with the steward, but she didn't. She took quick steps towards the sea dragon tower, eyes following her. As soon as the last eye disappeared around a turn, Maera's quick steps turned into a full-blown sprinting. She didn’t look back until the great oak doors to Visenya's chambers slammed shut behind her, muffling all the noises. Even then, her racing heart didn’t calm. Hundred's of thoughts echoed through her mind. But thoughts of what? That remained unknown to her. 

She just wished to rest and close her eyes.

Her hand caught the veil first and threw it down without hesitation. The strings at her back were undone next, quickly and impatiently. Step by step, the dress came apart and fell to the floor. The corset followed soon after. Everything landed silently. In only a thin shift, she lay down and closed her eyes. The window shifted slightly, letting in a breeze that moved through the room like something alive.

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❝𝐌𝐲 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬… 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞? 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐫. 𝐀𝐧𝐝… 𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐲, 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮.❞ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐝’𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭.— Hearing no response from the other side of the door, her knuckles clanked against the wood twice. The slight ruffle of sheets is what assured her that her message is received.

Inside, the silver haired Princess slowly sat up. Stretching her body to get rid of that unbearable numbness. 

'How long has it been?' the thought popped in her head the moment flickered outside. The sky outside had already gone dark. Not the soft kind of dusk that lingered like silk. This was Dragonstone’s darkness—heavy, swallowed whole by stormclouds that rolled over the sea like something alive. The wind pressed against the window with a low, constant groan, as if the castle itself was breathing in its sleep. Maera blinked slowly. For a moment, she didn’t move.

Just sat there in the thin shift, hair loosened from its pins, silver-gold strands spilling over her shoulders like molten light against pale skin. The room was too quiet now that she was awake again.

She remembered the sky being blue and the sun trying to glare down at them through the thick clouds when she snuggled onto the sheets. Has she really slept for nearly....what? Half-a day? Her eyes flickered through the chamber, left in the same state she had left it in. The dress and veil abandoned on the ground, shoes scattered. Has no one came to awake her before now? Did Baelor not come to rest or he resumed his duties just as they arrived? Her eyes twitched at the thought. That man clearly knew how to piss her off and still walk away leisurely. Fucker. Handsome rapist fucker. Fucker she knew he had intention to bend her over any furniture he finds pleasing of. And fuck him for that.

Maera Targaryen grieves the softness and comfort of the silk sheets as she swings her legs over the side and gives away her weight to her pale, bare legs. The door opens and three servant enter the room. Curstying deeply to the Princess before starting their work to prepare for her fresh up. Maera cracked her neck to the side and took curious steps towards the windowsill. 

Baelor told her it would be fine if she choose not to dress up, she wouldn't. Thank you very much but she wouldn't had cared enough to dress up if Baelor didn.t utter those words. She likes her comfort.

Once again, thank you.

A while later, The Crown Princess Consort entered the dining chamber with only a robe thrown over her thin shift with the intension of going back to bed the moment she gets out of his damned dual-toned eyesight and eats to her fill. If it was up to her, she would've ordered for the maid to bring her supper on the bed. But alas! The invitation reached the servant faster than her words. So there she was, standing hesitantly just before the threshold, staring at the board back of her brother-husband. She didn't except him to be there this soon.

Baelor was punctual, yes.  But now, that punctuality felt like a punch in the gut.

"Husband." the word left her lips almost out of pure nature. Baelor didn’t back. Yet the way he put the dagger he had been playing with down on the beside made a shiver dance down her spine. "You are quite early, I see. Or is it I am—ohh!" Maera hissed in surprise when was tugged into a warm lap before she could sit on the chair. "What are you—" The words died in her throat as she struggled against his tight, strong arms. Eyes blazing with surprise and anger. Her sharp nails dig into his arms as he buries his face onto her neck. A deep rumble echoes from his chest as he breaths her in. Maera stills, her chest moving up and down.

"Maera.......sister..." Baelor whispered. Maera shivered at the intensity lacing his voice. 

"You look so fucking ravishing." he chuckled against her skin. Grounding Maera further into his lap. "I could fuck you all day. In fact, I wil fuck you all night. No one will interfere." Maera gasped he moved his hips against hers. His hard budge digging into her ass. "It almost feel like—" she grits her teeth when his blunt teeth sinks into right into the place her neck and shoulder meets. "—you bought me here to fuck me." A dark laugh rumbles out of his chest. He looks up at her, dual-toned eyes sparkling with pure amusement and desire. "What if I did? There is nothing you or anyone can do." he yanks away the robe to cup her breasts. Maera gasps at the warmth of his skin hitting her stone-hard nipples. Her teeth digging into her bottom lip. Her conscience screamed at her to tell him to stop.

"B-baelor stop. Someone might see-" she tried. She really tried when he stood up with her on his lap then shoved her atop table. Hard clashes go off the dark floor as dishes roughly hit the hard surface from his impact and broke into thousand tiny pieces. She gripped the nape of his neck, nails digging into the skin in order to stop him. Just like she had anticipated, Baelor's movements stilled. His dual-toned eyes flickered up to her amethyst ones. But by the looks of it, he was angry at interruption. 

"Someone might see......" she tried to explain. Her body trembling from head to toe with fear and something else she was too ashamed to name for. 

She prayed to every god she knew, begging them to put some sense into Baelor and make him stop whatever madness had seized him. She could not do this. Not now. Not like this. There was no world in which she would allow others to witness her at her most vulnerable, only for whispers and rumors to spread across the Seven Kingdoms like wildfire. She would not have her fear and helplessness turned into entertainment for those who knew nothing of the burdens she carried. Her dazed eyes snapped back into focus when gentle fingertips brushed against her cheek. Tears welled despite her efforts to hold them back. Even now, Baelor refused to relent. Tears fell when Baelor still bared her shoulders from the thin robe. A single kiss. And then that whisper, "Let them see. Let them see how the Future King is shoved into your womb. My heir, our babe." Baelor's hands slid down from Maera's face to her slender neck, his touch electrifying on her sensitive skin. He traced the delicate line of her collarbone before pushing the silken robe off her other shoulder, exposing more of her creamy flesh to his hungry gaze. 

"Shh, my love...." he cooed, pressing a searing kiss to the hollow of her throat. "Don't cry. This is a moment of great joy and purpose." His lips trailed higher, peppering feather-light kisses along her jaw as he spoke between each one. "Our union...it will be legendary. Spoken of for generations to come."

One hand skimmed lower, caressing the swell of her breast through the thin fabric. Baelor captured her lips in a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth to claim her fully.

Baelor's strong hands roamed Maera's curves possessively as he deepened the kiss, pouring all his desire and devotion into the heated embrace. His tongue danced with hers sensually, stoking the flames of passion that threatened to consume them both. Breaking away with a soft groan, Baelor trailed open-mouthed kisses down the column of Maera's throat, pausing to suckle at her racing pulse point. "Your beauty...it takes my breath away........it always has.." He rasped, his voice rough with need. "I want to map every inch of your divine body with my hands and mouth until you're writhing beneath me, begging for my touch."

His deft fingers found the ties of her robe, slowly undoing them until the garment slipped from her shoulders to pool at her feet.

Maera's lower lip trembled. Her fingers shook against his doublet. 

Baelor noticed. Of course he did. HIs hands slipped under her armpits. Her legs wrapped around his waist when he pulled her into his arms. Her arms instinctively wrapped around his neck. She buried her face into his neck, not noticing when he began to take steps to god knows where. Leaving the dismay of broken dishes, spilled wine and ruined food behind them. 

The door flew open when Baelor kicked it with his leg. His eyes falling over the mess of sheets in the bed servants had failed to fix within time. The sweet scent of Maera's lingering in the air, dancing with it. The abandoned dress and corset still on the floor. A chuckled slipped out of his mouth just in time as a sob crawled out of Maera's throat. The thought being bred with her brother's babe made her want to crawl away. She could understand that nothing will stop her brother from shoving his seed in her now. Not her begging, not her pleas or any excuse. He had enough and his patience had run out like Raven's flying away with news. Good or bad. She didn't know why was she so shocked and scared. She knew this night and this matter would come one day, sooner or later. But she would've preferred it to come later  than this.

No sooner had her back touched the mattress did she scoot away. Her eyes wide and terrified like a rabbit being hunted by a dragon. 

"Baelor.....please I am not ready...." she whispered as he climbed atop her and tore the robe on its place. His eyes were quick to fall upon her breasts jiggling from the impact. But he was much quicker to take the stiff nipple in his mouth. Groaning at her sweet whimper. His fingers dug into the soft skin of her thighs, spreading them wide open to make a comfortable space for himself between them. His tongue circling her nipple and slowly sinked his teeth around the edges. Making her arch her back with a pained cry, pusing it deeper into his hot mouth. 

It was not long when Baelor made himself home, leaving her completely bare to his gaze while her terrified gaze flickered from his fingers working on his own cloths to his eyes. Baelor drank in the sight of Maera's nude form, his emerald eyes darkening with unbridled lust. He reached out to caress the soft swell of her breasts, thumbs grazing over the pebbled peaks of her nipples. Leaning down, he captured one rosy bud between his lips, suckling gently as his hand kneaded her other breast. "Exquisite." he murmured against her skin, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. "Like a goddess made flesh." Baelor's palms skimmed over her ribcage and the dip of her waist before coming to rest on the flare of her hips. He pulled her flush against him, letting her feel the hard evidence of his arousal through his trousers.

"I'm going to worship this body until you forget your own name,"

The thunderous clap seemed to echo the primal force of Baelor's possession as he hilted himself fully inside Maera's tight heat. Her scream of mingled pain and pleasure pierced the air, swallowed by the storm raging outside and the tempest of passion within. "Oh fuck!" Baelor groaned out, his head thrown back in ecstasy as Maera's walls clenched around him like a velvet vice.

He set a relentless pace, hips snapping against hers as he drove into her again and again. The obscene sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the chamber, punctuated by their escalating moans and cries. Baelor leaned down to capture Maera's lips in a bruising kiss, all teeth and tongue as he claimed her mouth as thoroughly as he was claiming her body.

Maera's back arched off the bed as Baelor filled her so completely, stretching her in ways she'd never experienced before. Pleasure bordering on pain radiated from where they were joined, making her toes curl and her nails dig into his shoulders. "Ahhh!  B-Baelor! Brother!" she keened, her inner muscles fluttering and clenching around his pistoning length. Tears of overwhelmed sensation leaked from the corners of her tightly shut eyes. Each powerful thrust jolted her entire body, her ample breasts bouncing with the force of his lovemaking. Something inside her begged the gods for it to end soon, sooner. Yet the sweet pleasure of his cock hitting that sweet spot inside her made her blood dance.

Baelor growled in feral approval at Maera's wanton moans, doubling his efforts to pound into her willing body with animalistic intensity. The wet squelch of her dripping arousal filled the room, mingling with the lewd slap of skin on skin and their escalating moans.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as Baelor shifted deeper. Her teeth digging in the muscle between his neck and shoulders, both to get her buried rage out of herself anf muffle her sounds. "Ohhhh!" she sobbed. He let out a rasped out at her action. The bed banged against the stone wall at the forced of his thrusts. A loud thunder echoed and Maera whimpered. Her long legs circling his hips as fear mixes with pain and pleasure.

"You take me so well, my fiesty little dragon." Her brother-husband, The Prince of  grunted, angling his hips to hit that special spot inside her with every thrust. "This sweet cunt was made for my cock."

One large hand slid between their sweat-slicked bodies to find her aching clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves. "Cum for me, Maera," Baelor commanded, his voice a dark rumble. "Scream my name as you cum on my cock like the perfect little queen you are for me!"

Baelor felt Maera's inner walls start to quiver and clench erratically around his pistoning shaft, signaling her impending release. He redoubled his efforts, hammering into her sopping cunt with reckless abandon as his thumb worked her clit mercilessly. "That's it, my love." he panted harshly, emerald eyes blazing with primal hunger as he watched her face contort in ecstasy. "Let go for me. Give me everything!" Maera's voluptuous body undulated beneath Baelor, back bowing sharply as the dual stimulation of his thick cock pummeling her g-spot and his skilled fingers on her clit sent her hurtling towards a mind-shattering climax. Her plush lips parted in a silent scream of rapture, amethyst eyes rolling back as waves of intense pleasure crashed over her.

"BAELOR!" she wailed, her velvety walls clamping down hard on his plunging shaft, rippling and milking him for all he was worth. Clear fluid gushed out around his pistoning member as Maera came undone, squirting her release in a sensual display of ecstasy.

The feeling of Maera's slick walls spasming almost violently around his throbbing length pushed Baelor past the brink of his control. With a roar of completion, he buried himself to the hilt inside her quivering sheath, his cock pulsing as he emptied himself deep in her fertile womb. Rope after rope of his hot seed painted her inner walls and womb, marking her as his in the most primal way possible.

Baelor collapsed atop Maera, his muscular frame blanketing her smaller one as aftershocks wracked them both. A sob tore itself out of her throat. Tears of shame slipped down her cheeks as her pale thighs quivered around his hips. He peppered her flushed face with tender kisses, murmuring words of praise and adoration between each press of his lips. "My perfect queen, my soulmate...you've taken me so well. Our coupling will surely bear fruit—I can feel it."

Maera hopes it does. Because it might give her some break from his cock tearing her apart.

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𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐝. . . . 𝐌𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐳𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬, 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐬𝐨 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝.—Murmurs and distant shouts echoed around her. Voices rose and fell, blending into an indistinct hum that scarcely reached her ears. Men celebrated, women whispered, and somewhere beyond the crowd, bells rang in triumph. Yet none of it held her attention. Her world had narrowed to the babe nestled against her chest. Tiny fingers curled and uncurled as it cried, its face red from exertion. Maera could feel its warmth through the blankets, could feel the rapid flutter of a life so new it had not yet known peace. For a long moment, she simply stared.

A child.

A living, breathing child.

The realization settled over her like a heavy cloak, bringing with it equal measures of wonder and dread. This tiny creature knew nothing of crowns or courts, of rivalries or expectations. It knew nothing of the burdens that accompanied the blood flowing through its veins. And Maera found herself hoping, however foolishly, that it might remain that way for just a little while longer.

Then, softly, the babe was snatched taken away from her arms. She looked up with tired but wide amethyst eyes which met with mismatched ones. Just like her babes.

Someone might even pity her seeing her at that moment. Blood stained hair, bloody nightgown. Shaky legs and wide gem eyes begging her husband not to take her their babe from her embrace. Some might disapprove of her looking like this. But at this moment, she cared for nothing else. Maera focused back, Baelor placing a soft kiss on her forehead as they both stared down at the babe. Something flickered in her chest, staring at Baelor as he gazed upon the babe she had given birth to like he was the most precious thing ever.

"Valarr." Maera whispered. Baelor looked up.

"Hmmm?"

"Valarr Targaryen."

In a hearth not far from the gathered crowd, where shadows danced upon ancient stone and dragonflame burned low, a single egg rested in silence. Sapphire blue. Its surface gleamed like a fragment of a midnight sea, bathed in heat for countless days, untouched and forgotten amidst the chaos of men. Then—

Crack.

The sound was faint. Barely a whisper against the distant cries and celebration. Another followed. And another. Thin fractures spread across the shell like veins of lightning trapped beneath polished sapphire. The egg trembled. Once. Twice. Then violently. From within came a low, rasping hiss. A shard fell away. Then another. Something moved in the darkness beyond the broken shell. Slowly, impossibly, a tiny form pulled itself free. Steam curled around its scaled body as though the shadows themselves sought to conceal it. Damp wings clung to its sides. Claws scraped softly against stone. And then it opened its eyes.

Red.

Not crimson. Not ruby. Red as fresh-spilled blood beneath moonlight.

The newborn hatchling stared into the darkness, unblinking. Ancient fires crackled around it. The shadows stretched longer. For a fleeting moment, it seemed as though the hearth had grown colder rather than warmer. As if something old had awakened. As if the darkness had finally found a pair of eyes through which to gaze back.