Here There Be Dragons

Dragons Near and Far

129 AC

"Cousin,"

The boy in question jumped at the word, turning to stare at Aemma with wide eyes. She still could not get over the remarkable likeness between Alyn Velaryon and her father. The tied back white hair, the light brown skin, the same dark brown eyes, that distinctive nose. If it was not for her father's preference in lovers, Aemma would have believed the boy before her to be Laenor's son. Yet she also saw aspects of Vaemond in him. It was a good thing they had not known their father well. Family dinners would have been awkward.

"Princess," Alyn bowed his head before looking back up in the sky to watch his brother Addam and Seasmoke glide through the air. Unlike Aemma, his left side was still wrapped in thin bandages. No matter that it had been well over a fortnight since he was burned and Aemma was shot, dragon fire took a long time to heal. Whereas the only thing left of her wound was a puckered pink scar and a slight tenderness.

Aemma smiled. "No need for such formalities. We are family now. You and Addam both carry the name Velaryon. Wear it with pride."

"Apologies," he blushed and looked down at his feet.

"Come," Aemma grabbed his hand and pulled him after her. He followed mutely for a few minutes, but when he saw their destination looming before them, he dug his heels in.

"I cannot," his panicked eyes beseeched her.

She turned from the opening of the Dragonmont, with the few dragons perched along the cliffs, to clasp his shoulders. "You claim blood from Old Valyria. You faced dragon fire and lived to tell the tale. You cannot allow one failed attempt to keep you from your heritage. I was seven and ten when I finally claimed my dragon. Yet before that I was still likely to be found deep within the Dragonpit."

"Will they not attack us?"

"We are the blood of the dragon. If we act as if we belong, they will not test us. As long as we steer clear of their nests, we are no more than pesky rodents to them. Not worth their attention." As Aemma continued her story, she pulled Alyn into a slow walk towards an opening in the cliff face. "Once, right after moving here, I snuck into the Dragonmont. I happened upon Vermithor coming to the surface to stretch his wings. A cantankerous old thing, he is. Like a hot tempered old king."

"What did he do?" Alyn's hushed voice seemed to echo into the hot, sulfuric air that hung stagnant around them as the darkness seemed to consume them.

Faint daylight streamed through cracks along the ceiling and illuminated the path forward. "He stared at me as if I was some muck dragged through on someone's foot. Like he was the dragon that throned a king and had no patience for a small thing like me. He blew a puff a smoke in my direction and then continued on his way."

Alyn laughed. "What did your family do when they found out?"

Aemma shrugged, and knelt by a dragon clutch. "I did many similar things in King's Landing, they barely batted an eye. Though Luke was upset I did not take me with him. Come, touch here. You can feel the eggs."

"Luke had his own dragon by then, did he not?" Alyn kneeled beside her and smiled in wonder at the outline of the dragon eggs they could discern through the hardened shell encasing them.

"Yes, but Luke hates to be left out of anything."

"He was awfully glad to fly to Harrenhal."

Aemma nodded in agreement. "Yes, he and Nettles were the best choice. They can learn much from Daemon, and he will keep them protected. Though Luke would never admit to such."

"Whose eggs are these?"

"Syrax," Aemma said. "She-"

"That dragon is in heat more often than the whores of a Pentoshi pleasure house."