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The cries of gulls echoed over Blackwater Bay, their calls carrying over the waters of the sea and blending with the melodic sound of waves crashing against the rocky shore. The sun, suspended high in the sky, bathed the entire bay in golden light. Its radiant beams danced on the calm surface of the water, reflecting like scattered diamonds. The air was fresh and invigorating, filled with the scent of the sea breeze that soothed the senses of anyone who inhaled it.

However, the relative peace was shattered by a long, deep roar that reverberated across the endless sky. At first, the sound seemed to emerge from the depths of the sea, but soon a mighty silhouette broke through the thick layer of clouds, belonging to Gaelithox. The dragon's black scales gleamed in the sunlight like polished onyx, and his great, membranous wings sliced through the air with a grace and power that inspired both awe and respect.

With surprising speed, the dragon dove downward, streaking toward the surface of the sea. He approached it so swiftly that for a moment, it seemed as though he might plunge into the water and disappear beneath its depths. Yet, just before meeting the surface, Gaelithox spread his wings wide, executing a powerful, sweeping motion that lifted him back into the sky. The force of the maneuver sent sprays of water into the air, forming a misty haze around the dragon. A few salty droplets flew toward the saddle on the dragon's back, accompanied by the sound of a child's laughter.

A one-year-old girl giggled softly, feeling the tiny droplets tickle her chubby cheeks. Maegelle smiled faintly, glancing down at her daughter. The little princess, filled with pure joy, delighted in her first dragon ride, warming her mother's heart. Holding her securely, Maegelle wrapped her arms tightly around the baby, ensuring her safety while keeping a firm grip on the saddle's handles. Without a word, she directed her dragon forward, receiving a low, throaty rumble of acknowledgment in return.

The dragon soared over the rooftops of King's Landing, casting a long shadow over the houses and winding streets below. People in the streets craned their necks, watching the majestic creature glide overhead with a mix of awe and curiosity. After a short flight, Maegelle guided the dragon toward the Dragonpit. Gaelithox spread his wings wide to slow his descent, then landed heavily on the ground behind the building. His powerful claws dug into the sandy earth, sending up a cloud of dust that danced in the air.

Maegelle dismounted gracefully from the saddle, then carefully helped her daughter down. The moment the little girl was in her arms, she buried her face in her mother's neck, laughing softly and hiding in her embrace. The sight of the small, innocent figure, so trusting and pure, melted Maegelle's heart. In that moment, the rest of the world could have ceased to exist, and she wouldn't have noticed, her focus entirely on her child.

The rhythmic sound of footsteps across the courtyard quickly drew Maegelle's attention. She raised her gaze to see Harra descending the narrow steps of the wheelhouse. The red-haired companion greeted her with a brief, respectful nod, though a faint shadow of concern lingered in her eyes.

"How did Princess Daenys' first ride go?" Harra asked with a gentle smile, though her gaze had already shifted to the little girl. Daenys, as though forgetting the excitement of the flight, stared intently at her mother's necklace. Her tiny fingers wrapped around the pendant in the shape of a seven-pointed star, fascinated by how it sparkled in the sunlight.

Adjusting her daughter in her arms, Maegelle felt the child snuggle closer to her. A soft smile graced her face as she looked at Harra.

"Well," she replied, her voice betraying clear satisfaction. "Daenys did wonderfully, didn't you, my sweetling?" She glanced lovingly at the girl, though Daenys was too absorbed in playing with the pendant to notice her mother's words. Turning back to Harra, Maegelle asked, "And how is Aemon? He didn't give you too much trouble while I was gone, did he?"

Harra's lips curved into a faint smile, her expression tinged with amusement.

"The young prince is always well-behaved, m'lady," she replied with a slight shake of her head. "He's currently with Marisa."

Marisa was a young woman of average height, with hair the color of golden honey and eyes resembling liquid amber. Her delicate, round face almost always radiated a wide, genuine smile that seemed to dispel any shadows of sadness in her surroundings. She possessed a natural aura of kindness that made everyone in her presence feel at ease or genuinely welcome.

After Aemon's birth, Maegelle, wishing to lighten Harra's burden of responsibilities, asked her to find someone who could assist with the care of the newborn prince. Harra, whose judgment Maegelle trusted implicitly, recommended Marisa — a young girl who had only recently joined the household staff. Though Marisa was only slightly older than Maegelle herself, she quickly endeared herself to the princess and the rest of the household with her diligence and gentle demeanor.

More than two years had passed since then. Marisa and Harra had been by Maegelle's side almost constantly, becoming not only trusted members of her inner circle but also confidants with whom she shared her daily joys and worries. The princess valued their presence for the warmth and sense of support they brought into her life, making her feel less lonely within the walls of the Red Keep.

Although Harra, due to their long-standing relationship, was closer to her, Marisa never gave the impression of feeling sidelined in any way. On the contrary, she seemed to derive genuine joy from being needed and participating in their small, tight-knit circle. She understood her role perfectly, and her sincerity and dedication reassured Maegelle that entrusting her children's care to Marisa had been the right decision.

Maegelle turned to Harra.

"Good to hear," the princess said with relief, nodding toward the red-haired woman. "Have you taken care of everything I asked you to?"

Harra straightened slightly, her posture exuding confidence.

"Of course, Princess," she replied with complete assurance.

At that moment, a loud screech echoed from the Dragonpit. Both women turned their gaze toward the source of the noise. Two guards were carrying out a sturdy wooden crate, from which the sounds of a young dragon struggling inside could be heard. The creature was clearly not pleased with its situation. Maegelle couldn't help but smile with satisfaction at the sight. She cast a brief glance at Gaelithox, who turned his head toward his rider. The dragon let out a low rumble, as though bidding her farewell before the dragonkeepers led him into the pit's depths.

Maegelle shifted her attention to Harra and the carriage waiting nearby.

"Shall we?" she suggested, looking at her friend questioningly.

Harra nodded, stepping aside to let her pass first. She then joined Maegelle, closing the carriage door behind them as it began to move slowly toward the castle.

***

A soft murmuring of the little dragon filled the room, filling it with a quiet, pleasant sound. The hatchling, barely larger than an average cat, was strolling across the floor with almost childlike curiosity. Its tiny paws tapped lightly against the stone tiles, and its navy-blue scales shimmered in the beams of light coming through the high window. The dragon turned its small head, examining the world around it with interest.

Aemon chuckled softly, trying to hide his excitement behind his tiny hands. Maegelle, who was holding her son in her arms, looked at him with affection and handed him a piece of raw meat. The boy looked at her with uncertainty, his large purple eyes wide as saucers, as if unsure what to do with it.

"It's for him, darling," she whispered, stroking his silver curls.

Aemon looked at the dragon, then back at the meat, as if he needed a moment to process the situation. Maegelle smiled gently, helping her son throw the piece of meat toward the hatchling.

"Nightwing," she said softly, addressing the dragon.

At the sound of his name, the hatchling raised his head, looking at them with his orange eyes. He leaned carefully over the meat, sniffing it curiously from every angle. A soft rumble emanated from the dragon's throat, and his scales gleamed in the sunlight, resembling the smooth surface of lapis lazuli.

"Go ahead, say it," Maegelle encouraged, leaning over her son's ear.

Aemon looked at her, and his small lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but he still hesitated. She felt his tiny hands clutching the fabric of her gown, so she gently embraced him.

"Don't be afraid, my angel. Try," her voice was soothing, full of maternal patience. "Repeat after me. Dracarys," she whispered quietly.

Hearing the princess's words, the hatchling turned his head, eyeing the boy. Aemon glanced at the dragon, then back at his mother, who smiled encouragingly at him.

"Dra—" he began, then looked at Maegelle again to make sure he understood her words correctly. She silently nodded. "Dracarys," he lisped, looking proudly at the dragon.

Nightwing froze, intrigued by the words. A cloud of smoke escaped from his throat, but no fire appeared. The dragon tried again, this time letting out a small flame that immediately seared the piece of meat. The dragon leaned over his prize, devouring it in a few bites, while Aemon, watching him, burst out laughing and clapped his tiny hands.

Harra and Marisa, standing to the side, began to clap as well, expressing their joy and admiration for the little prince. Maegelle gathered her son in her arms, lifting him high.

"My brave little knight," she whispered, planting a kiss on his silver curls. She spun around with him, causing another burst of joyful laughter. She leaned in closer, brushing his temple with the tip of her nose, and Aemon giggled, hiding his face in the crook of her neck.

However, this adorable moment was interrupted by a soft creak of the door. Everyone present turned their heads toward the sound. In the doorway of the nursery stood Aemond, his gaze immediately fixed on the hatchling, and his brow slightly raised in surprise.

"I was wondering why I could smell dragon from afar," he said in a calm tone as he entered the room.

Harra and Marisa immediately bowed respectfully and then quietly withdrew from the room. Aemond watched them leave before turning his gaze to his wife and son. The two-year-old, upon seeing his father, immediately began squirming in his mother's arms. Maegelle smiled and set him down on the floor.

"Kepa!" Aemon called, running toward his father.

The corners of Aemond's lips curled up slightly. When the boy reached him, the prince knelt down, lifting his son up and looking him straight in the eyes.

"Did you feed your dragon for the first time?" Aemond asked with a note of curiosity in his voice. Aemon vigorously nodded, his eyes gleaming with pride. Aemond smiled gently and lovingly ruffled his son's hair. "Brave boy," he said with approval. He leaned in a little closer, as if wanting his words to reach only the boy's ears. "Did you protect your mother, like I told you?" he added, lowering his voice to a whisper.

Aemon nodded again, this time with a wide, disarming smile that brightened his little face.

"Yes," he replied with conviction, then giggled, realizing he had revealed their little secret aloud.

Aemond glanced at Maegelle, who was watching the scene with amusement.

"This mother," she remarked, catching their attention, "knows very well how to take care of herself."

The prince raised an eyebrow, and a shadow of a smile appeared on his lips.

"Really, ābrazȳrys?" he asked with a clear note of sarcasm.

The girl laughed, letting out a quiet snort. Aemond set Aemon down on the floor, allowing him to return to his toys. Slowly, he approached Maegelle, making sure not to step on the dragon. When he stood in front of her, he raised her hand and placed a gentle kiss on it.

"Wife," he murmured, gazing directly into her eyes.

The princess tilted her chin, returning his gaze with a subtle, almost provocative smile.

"Husband," she replied, mimicking his tone.

The corner of the prince's mouth lifted imperceptibly, sending a wave of warmth to Maegelle's heart.

"How is Daenys?" he asked, whispering to her.

Maegelle glanced over her shoulder at the cradle, where their one-year-old daughter was peacefully asleep, cuddled in a soft blanket. She smiled with affection.

"She's exhausted after her first ride," she replied, her eyes lighting up at the memory of the earlier ride. "If you only saw her face... She's never been happier."

Aemond nodded slightly, but his gaze became immediately contemplative. The joyful expression gave way to the seriousness that had increasingly marked his face lately.

"You won't be able to ride with her forever" he said quietly, his voice tinged with concern.

Maegelle sighed heavily, giving him a soft look. She understood exactly what he meant. Daenys's dragon egg, which had been placed in the cradle right after her birth, had petrified and never hatched. However, the princess didn't worry about it — she knew that dragon eggs often petrified, and that was what had happened in this case. Daenys was only a year old, and although she didn't have her own dragon like her older brother, she was no less than Aemon in any way.

However, Maegelle understood why Aemond was so deeply concerned. She herself remembered how, many years ago, he had to endure mockery from Aegon, Jace, and Luke until he claim Vhagar. Perhaps it was those memories that made him want Daenys to avoid similar humiliations.

"Aemond..." she began quietly, taking her husband's hand and soothingly stroking the back of his palm. "One day, she'll have a dragon. Don't worry."

The prince gave a brief, skeptical grunt but didn't comment on her words. He turned his gaze to her face, and his features immediately softened.

"How are you feeling?" he asked after a moment, his voice clearly gentler.

A wide smile appeared on Maegelle's face. Instinctively, she placed her hand on her still-flat belly, where new life was slowly growing.

"We're feeling great. Thank you for asking," she responded warmly.

Aemond nodded briefly, but his gaze hardened once more. He sighed softly and sank into a nearby chair, suddenly seeming weary.

"I spoke with mother," he informed her, breaking the silence.

Maegelle looked at him closely, sensing the tension in his voice.

"About what?" she asked calmly.

"She received a raven from Vaemond Velaryon," he replied curtly, his eye still fixed on the flames dancing in the nearby hearth.

"From the brother of the Sea Snake?" she asked, recalling the serious face of the man she had met at the funeral of his late niece many years ago.

Aemond nodded.

"Yes. Lord Corlys was gravely wounded at the Stepstones. No one knows if he'll survive," he began, still staring into the dancing flames. "Vaemond wants to decide who will inherit the driftwood throne. And he knows very well that the crown will be more favorable to him now that the realm is ruled by a queen, not a king."

Maegelle fell silent, folding her hands in front of her. She didn't like the political games her family was being drawn into, especially now that two children had been born into the world.

"But wasn't Driftmark supposed to go to Lucerys?" she asked cautiously. "After all, it was Lord Corlys who named him his heir."

The mention of young Velaryon made Aemond's expression harden. He clenched his jaw tightly, and his hands formed into fists.

"The bastard of the Strongs has no right to Driftmark," he replied coldly. "And Vaemond knows this very well. If he becomes the new Lord of the Tides, he will owe the crown an eternal debt of gratitude. Mother and the Hand will surely not waste such an opportunity to gain the support of the house Velaryon and their fleet."

He was silent for a moment, staring into the fire as if searching for answers within it.

"Do you think they'll come to King's Landing?" the princess asked quietly, referring to their older half-sister and her family. "After all, they haven't been here in many years."

Aemond nodded in confirmation, not taking his eye off the fire. Maegelle sighed softly. She knew what that meant. She approached her husband, sitting on the armrest of his chair, gently placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Aemond..." she began softly, cupping his face with her hand and guiding his gaze towards her. "I know what's on your mind, but it's not worth it. So much time has passed..."

Her fingers gently traced the scar on his right cheek, outlining its shape. Aemond grabbed her hand, removing it from his face but not letting go of it.

"That pup thinks he can show up here after what he did..." he whispered, deep anger resonating in his voice. "But he's gravely mistaken," he added, looking up at her.

Maegelle shook her head, and in her gaze, there was no condemnation, only visible concern.

"I know you're still angry at Lucerys for taking your eye, but revenge won't change anything," she said softly, running her fingers through his hair. "You may have lost an eye, but don't forget what you gained from it." Her voice was full of pride and love as she looked at him warmly. "I don't know anyone as strong and resilient as you, valzȳrys. They can only dream of that."

His shoulders relaxed at her words. Without a word, he lowered his head, resting it on her stomach and hugging her tightly. Maegelle gently embraced him, a soft smile appearing on her face. She placed a tender kiss on the top of his head, rocking him in her arms, clearly seeing that Aemond needed this.