Visenya Targaryen (109 A.C. Twelfth moon)
The skies above Westeros were vast and endless, their pale blue hue stretching beyond the horizon as She soared upon Dreamfyre. At just ten years old, she commanded the skies like a seasoned rider, her black hair flowing behind her in the wind. With each graceful beat of Dreamfyre's wings, they glided through the clouds, the dragon's iridescent scales shimmering under the midday sun.
"Dive, Dreamfyre," she called out joyfully in her mother tongue, her voice carried away by the winds.
The dragon obeyed instantly, tucking its wings and plunging toward the earth below. The sensation of the descent was exhilarating. Dreamfyre swooped low, skimming the waters of a nearby lake before pulling up with a powerful gust of wind that stirred the grasses below.
As they circled back toward the landing grounds outside the ancestral home of the Targaryens, the figures of her Oathguard and handmaiden came into view. Ser Garth Rykker stood tall and steady, his dark armor gleaming in the sunlight, eyes scanning the skies for her. Beside him, Lady Bella Pyle waited with a gentle smile, her flowing gown catching the breeze as she watched her charge descend.
Dreamfyre's massive form touched the ground with a grace that belied her size, her talons barely disturbing the earth beneath them. Her heart, still racing with the thrill of flight, slid down from the saddle and landed nimbly on the ground.
Ser Garth stepped forward, bowing his head. "Princess, a beautiful flight, good to see you on the ground once more," he remarked, his eyes lingering on Dreamfyre with respect.
"Thank you, Ser Garth," She replied, still flushed with excitement. She turned to Lady Bella, who offered a warm smile and handed her a comb to tame her wind-swept hair.
"Princess Lyanna would be proud to see her daughter soaring so," Lady Bella said softly, her voice filled with affection.
She smiled at the mention of her mother, though a hint of sadness flickered in her violet eyes. "And Father would have been too," she whispered, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
With a final glance at Dreamfyre, who now rested peacefully in the clearing, she straightened her posture. "Thank you, girl." She said, and Dreamfyre purred as she petted her snout and, not much later, retreated back into the caves.
"Come, I wish to see my niece and goodsister. I will be traveling with her and mother tomorrow," she said to Lady Bella, who had been waiting by her side.
She set off through the familiar corridors of Dragonstone, her expression softening as she focused on seeing Arya. The winding stone halls, cool and quiet, were a comfort to her in moments of frustration. The flickering torchlight made the shadows dance, and the faint scent of the sea drifted through the open windows. Even as a child, Visenya loved the quiet majesty of Dragonstone.
As she neared Laena's chamber, the murmur of voices reached her ears. She paused for a moment, composing herself, before pushing open the heavy wooden door. The warmth from the hearth washed over her as she stepped inside. The firelight bathed the room in a soft, golden glow, casting gentle shadows on the stone walls.
Laena was seated near the fire, cradling Arya in her arms as the babe nursed peacefully. Laena looked up as Visenya entered, her expression softening into a welcoming smile. "Visenya, Bella," she greeted warmly, her voice low so as not to disturb Arya. "Come in."
She returned the smile, her frustration momentarily forgotten as she approached the fire. "How is she today?" she asked, her eyes immediately drawn to Arya's tiny form nestled against her mother. Even at just a month old, Arya already bore the unmistakable marks of her Targaryen lineage—her pale skin and silver hair were a mirror of their family's heritage.
"She's doing well, growing strong," Laena replied, her voice filled with the quiet pride of a new mother. She gently brushed her fingers across Arya's cheek, her expression soft. "A true blend of your hair and Aemon's eyes," she added with a small laugh, her gaze flicking up to meet Visenya's.
She knelt beside Laena, her eyes widening slightly at the mention of Aemon. "She does look like him," she murmured, leaning closer to get a better look at Arya's tiny features. "She'll be strong. Like you and Aemon."
Laena's smile grew a little wider at that, though her eyes were heavy with the responsibility of caring for such a small, delicate life. "I hope so. She'll need to be, especially with all the traveling ahead of us." Laena adjusted Arya slightly, careful not to disturb her nursing.
She shifted, her thoughts returning to the upcoming journey. "I still wish I could fly with Aemon and Rhaenyra," she said, her frustration bubbling back to the surface. "I'm not too young, I've been riding Dreamfyre for years now!"
Laena chuckled softly, her gaze turning from Arya to Visenya. "I know it feels unfair, but Aemon worries about you. He was much the same when I wanted to go with him immediately when the Stepstones War occurred. You, it is better than I. The North is far, and the North itself is fast. and the journey can be harsh, especially for a dragonrider your age." Her tone was gentle though firm.
She frowned. "I could handle it," she insisted. "Dreamfyre would protect me."
"I don't doubt that," Laena said with a smile. "But your brother is right to be cautious. You'll be able to ride by his side soon enough. But for now, we will travel together, and you can look after Arya while on the journey. She'll need her aunt. I would also rather fly on Vhagar to Winterfell, but Arya, just like you, is too young."
Her frown softened as she looked down at Arya. The thought of helping to care for her niece on such an important journey made her feel proud. "I'll make sure she and you are safe," she promised, her voice filled with determination. "No harm will come to either of you while I'm there with you."
Laena nodded, her eyes filled with warmth. "I believe you," she said. "You're already a fierce protector. We are lucky to have you."
She felt a swell of pride at the compliment. "When we reach Winterfell, I want to show her everything," she said. "I wonder if it will still feel like home. It has been three years. I remember playing with Bennard and Rickon in the snow in godswood. Or spooky crypts. "
"I'm sure It will," Laena reassured her. "Winterfell is part of you, just as Dragonstone is. And you'll have your family with you."
She smiled, feeling more at peace with the journey ahead. "No, Bella, are you excited for the Journey north," Laena questioned. "Yes, Princess," Bella nodded eagerly and continued on what she wanted to see there.
Corlys Velaryon ( 109 A.C. Elventh Moon)
Dragonstone – Room of the Painted Table.
"Aemon, have you ever wondered why you are here? What your place is, and what it will bring, what you leave behind." He asked after a while and sipped the arbor gold. "Hmm, I know parts of it, I'm here to see my family save. To live for them and do my duty to the realm." Aemon answered.
"I have always tried to have my name live on after I'm gone. I felt that chance would be gone for some time. Rhaenys her legacy usurped, and with a chance to see my line sit it. Have it bring both our legacies into history books. Perhaps my exploits will live on, but histories will remember names. They will now remember my daughter's name edged next to yours, and her daughter next your successor, whoever he may be, may he be of Laena's line or Rhaenyra." He added.
"You are like many a cross the realm, yet few will ever have the right drive to see it through. I suspect both my brothers have the same ambitions. Yet neither has the drive to see it through, Daemon felt to Essos, to have a small chance, to have his name song in the histories. Viserys is anointed to be King, and I see him even now struggling to prove he deserves the crown. Yet, the only action he has taken to secure the Targaryen line is with the Doctrine of Three Heads. Besides that, he hasn't taken any actions in his realm. He only works on his model of Valyria and sits on the council." Aemon answered.
"Ah, yes, Viserys always sat idly on his council, watched tourneys, and hosted feasts. While we fought a war in the Stepstones and strengthened his realm." He said, yet received a cold look of his good-son, and that one sent chilling down his spine. "Remember Corlys, he is still my brother and King. You may complain, but speak with him with respect." Aemon replied coldly.
"I apologize. I just sometimes wish for our King to be more proactive. His Grace speaks of unity across the realm, bringing forth a dragon's age. Yet all His Grace does is sit and have others take action." He answered and grimaced a little as he was cowed in speaking with respect to Viserys. Yet Aemon had earned his metal, both in war and in the machinations of the realm. He found always listing closely to Aemon. Authority and respect came handed in with him. He would never forget the smoldering rocks of Bloodstone and the cold execution of the Crabfeeder.
"Well, after my trip to the North, his so-called age of dragons will begin," Aemon said, smiling. "Hmm, I know the plans for the formation of the Paramount ship of Narrow Sea. What else do you have planned?" He asked. "Reforms and the rise of Dragonstone, I'm not Andal, Corlys. I'm of the Blood of Winter and Blood Dragon. The last three Kings forgot where they came from. Jaehaerys, for the good he did, united the realm yet forgot his roots. Blood of the Dragon, and Kingslanding itself, is more Andal than Valyrian. My ancestors built this place with blood and fire. Kingslanding was built of stone and gold. This world doesn't need that. It's needed to see the power of my house once again. It needs the power most men don't believe." Aemon paused and looked at him questionably.
"Tell me, Corlys, you have traveled North of the Wall and to Asshai. Both are places of mystery. Tell me, do you believe there are forces in this world. We could never understand? Do you believe that magic that measters believe has died out is gone?" Aemon questioned him.
"North of the wall, I only saw ice, yet the farther I went, the more I felt something creep into my bones. I did not think it was the cold. Also, I saw the wall. It's what else could have built something other than magic. How is it still standing if magic is gone as the measters believe. Asshai is the same. It felt dark, and that place something held that place together. What I do not know, I doubt, would have survived staying there more than a week." He said, as for the other thing. "As for forces that we could never understand, perhaps there are things we mortals could never know." He answered, unsure.
"Mmm, the people of Westeros had forgotten what came before, brought forward by the coming of the Andals and the superstitions of the faith. Combined with hoarding knowledge and discarding the magic of the world by the Citadel, we have forgotten the tales of the old. Only that is those days are gone or have not happened at all. Yet, if we are not careful and remember our past, we doom ourselves into darkness and despair." Aemon replied, his voice stern.
"Change will come, this world, their world can change with it or burn. I know I have no other option." Aemon ended. 'What is he planning, he knew of Aemon's attempts to curb the influence of the Citadel and discovery of arts once's thought lost. Yet there was more he was planning.' He wondered. As he stared from Aemon to the flames in the hearth.
"I will be with you, Aemon. Although I doubt many in the realm will feel similar as you do. Especially the southern lords." He said after a while. Aemon just smiled at his comment. "Travel to Sea Dragon Point Corlys, and I will show you my plans for the future," Aemon replied, smiling.
Lyanna Stark (109 A.C. Elventh Moon)
Dragonstone – Dragon Caves
Drakari pykiros
Tīkummo jemiros
Yn lantyz bartossa
Saelot vāedis
Hen ñuhā elēnī:
Perzyssy vestretis
Se gēlȳn irūdaks
Ānogrose
Perzyro udrȳssi
Ezīmptos laehossi
Hārossa letagon
Aōt vāedan
Hae mērot gierūli:
Se hāros bartossi
Prūmȳsa sōvīli
Gevī dāerī
Her son sang as the large head arrived pale blue, its color like the sigil of her good daughter House, with flickers of sliver to be seen as Dreamfyre scales flickered against the flames of the troches.
"Dreamfyre, Lyrki," Aemon said, as Dreamfyre roar.
"Mother, will Dreamy listen to Aemon?" Her daughter asked. "Of course, he has done it before." She answered smiling. "Lyrik, Dohaeras Dreamfyre." Aemon commanded again, and Dreamfyre dipped her head and laid his hand on her snout. "Come, Visenya, you have to tell," Aemon said as she let go of her daughter's hand.
Dreamfyre purred as Visenya touched her. 'She may have ridden one, married to Targaryens, yet she would always feel off with the dragons. Still, she knew the dragons would always protect her children.'
"Dreamfyre, you follow, Aemon and Baelrion, I'll see you again back in White Harbor. Hmm, be good. There we will fly again, I promise." Her daughter said. She smiled. She loved that dragon. "Soves Dreamfyre, we will soon join you," Aemon said, and the dragon left. "Bye," Her daughter shouted to the dragon.
"Mother, take good care of Laena and Arya, will you," Aemon said as they walked back from the platform. "Of course, son, now give me a hug." She said and embraced. "You too, valonqar," Aemon said to his sister as they hugged. "Of course, I will be strong like Kepa," Visenya answered with a smile.
"Good girl," Aemon said, grinning, as he walked to Laena, who cradled little Arya in her arms. The flickering torchlight danced across the stone walls.
"Laena," Aemon said, his voice softening. I will miss you both dearly. Take care of our little girl. Ser Criston will be your shadow throughout."
Laena smiled. "I have no doubt he will protect us well. We will see you soon in White Harbor. Have a good trip. Vhagar will look out for you.."
He nodded, pulling her close for a moment. Then, he leaned down and kissed Arya's forehead. "Goodbye, my sweet girl,"
At that moment, Rhaenyra approached, her presence both commanding and comforting. "Aemon, it's time. Goodbye, sister," she said gently, kissing Laena's and Arya's cheeks.
He took a deep breath, looking back at Laena and Arya one last time. "I'll see you both soon. Keep each other safe," he said, his voice resolute.
Then, the ground was sook, and a great shadow moved from the depths of the cavern. Baelrion, the mighty black-scaled dragon, emerged from the darkness. His golden eyes gleamed like twin suns in the gloom, his nostrils flaring as he sensed the presence of his rider. The heat radiating from his massive form made the air shimmer.
"My friend," Murmmered and mounted the dragon together with Ser Harrold. "Soves, Balerion," Aemon commanded, and with the great dragon flapping his wings, Aemon disappeared out of the cave entrance.
"See, all soon, have good voyages." Rhaenyra smiled as she walked toward Syrax. Her yellow-golden scales glistened in the dim light of the caves. Syrax's head turned to meet her, and Rhaenyra reached out, brushing her fingers along her dragon's snout in a brief moment of silent communion. Without hesitation, she mounted Syrax, the dragon responding eagerly to her presence, muscles tensing in anticipation of flight. "Soves, Syrax," and the dragon leaped into the room, and just like Aemon, it disappeared into the entrance of the gave.
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