Chapter Text
Even for a family whose whole identity revolved around dragons, you had always been especially obsessed with them. Your earliest memories were sitting by your grandsire’s side as he recounted the tales of Old Valyria, and of Aegon’s Conquest, and of his own limited time with Balerion the Black Dread. From the moment you could walk you were harassing your parents’ dragons – Syrax would put up with your tactile fascination with a good-natured grumble, while Seasmoke readily engaged you in games of peek-a-boo. While your parents never fully trusted their dragons around you, they learnt early on you had a way with them.
The egg that had been placed in your cradle was chosen by King Viserys himself – a single egg laid by Dreamfyre, pearl-white with streaks of gold. Despite the lack of Valyrian white hair, the egg hatched in due time, and as your dragon grew alongside you, your mother named him Urrax, for the dragon of an old legend. When the dragon tamers tried to take your newly hatched dragon to the Dragonpit to raise, you threw an unending tantrum at being parted from him. Eventually, your family relented, and you raised Urrax yourself (with considerable help from a young dragon tamer).
He was exceptionally loyal, to you at least, and was almost always with you. He would cram himself under the Heart Tree with you as you practiced your Valyrian or read fantastical tales, and servants thought you were odd for having one-sided conversations with the dragon. Whenever you’d watch your uncles train, Urrax would be on the roof watching, his golden eyes fixated on the action. And when you’d sneakily steal a wooden sword to re-enact what you had seen, Urrax would keep a look-out for prying eyes.
That was how Aemond Targaryen found the two of you one evening. You usually couldn’t hear what Ser Criston told the boys, so you copied based on visual demonstration alone. Urrax, now the size of a horse, had fallen asleep in his guard duties, the warm balmy air and light breeze tempting him to curl into the roots of the Heart Tree. You were attempting – very poorly in your attire – to practice the lunges and sword thrusts you’d seen earlier.
“What are you doing?”
The question made you drop your wooden sword, and as you spun around in a moment of wild panic, you tripped on your skirts and went sprawling into the dirt. The commotion woke Urrax, and you felt his warning growl reverberate through the earth. You looked up to see Aemond extending a hand to help you up, a blank expression on his face. You accepted his help with a meek and sheepish thank you, noting that he dropped your arm as it is was diseased as soon as you were standing.
There was a brief pause of uncomfortable silence as you both analysed each other. You were the same age, both 7 years old, but you had never really spoken to the Prince or to his older brother. You were close with Helaena, but Aemond always treated you and your own brothers coolly. As for Aegon, well, even at 7 years old, you knew he was a shit.
You flinched at the crunch of his boots as Aemond moved to pick up your forgotten practice sword, before offering it back to you. “I was practicing, or trying to,” you finally responded to his prior question, taking your wooden sword and putting it down behind you.
“Why do you want to fight? You’re a princess.”
You shrugged, suddenly finding the ground fascinating. “I want to protect myself from danger.”
“You have a dragon for that,” he replied coolly, with a pointed look at Urrax, who had silently crept to stand at your back.
You resisted the retort that burned on your tongue – your mother had said it was a sore point for the Hightowers that Aemond did not have a dragon. So instead, you stepped aside, and asked “would you like to be introduced?”
Aemond blinked rapidly in succession, almost comedic if not for the suspicion in his gaze. You wondered if his twat brother had teased him with Sunfyre. An unsure nod was his reply, so you moved to scratch Urrax behind the jaw, extending a hand to invite Aemond over. “Urrax, behave yourself,” you murmured, much like how your parents would to you during a feast.
Tentatively, he approached, extending his hand in a fist for Urrax to sniff. Your dragon stilled, and you nodded to Aemond, who reached out to stroke the side of his nose. Both of them were rigid, and you watched the interaction with bated breath, until Urrax appeared to lose interest and turned to you, demanding more scratches. You ignored the heavy exhale of relief from Aemond, instead wordlessly inviting him to scratch Urrax in his favourite spot. He took up the task of providing scratches instantly, seemingly entranced by the contact with your dragon.
Eventually the comfortable silence was broken. “If you want to learn to fight,” he said quietly, eyes never leaving Urrax, “I can teach you what I learn. As a thanks for this.”
You grinned, as bright as the sun. “I would like that.”
Aemond kept his word. Every few days, whenever the moon was bright enough, the two of you would meet in the training grounds after dark, and he would teach you what he had learnt that day – or the two of you would simply muck around. In return, you became his dearest friend, though he also became yours.
The two of you shared a love of reading, particularly history, and during the day you would meet in the library for your own little book club. Though you’re sure the Queen and your mother disproved of this friendship, your grandfather was delighted. Though Viserys was delighted whenever you were involved.
You learnt that Aemond was keenly intelligent, easily embarrassed, and could not stand the taste of lemons. He learnt that you were stubborn, endlessly nosey, and that you never judged a book by its cover. And so, you became his shield against social gatherings, as he was shy and often too serious, but you would always know when to swoop in and save him with a well-placed smile and joke.
And despite whatever tensions were between Aemond and your brothers, he never extended them to you. You playfully danced together at feasts, and you gossiped conspiratorially at tourneys. He felt safe enough to approach Urrax without your close supervision. One of your favourite things was running your hands through Aemond’s hair and sneaking little braids into it when he would lay his head in your lap, allowing himself some peace and quiet.
And after your first flight on Urrax at age 10, Aemond was the first person to congratulate you, suppressing his disappointment at his own lack of a dragon. You had promised that when Urrax was big enough to carry two, Aemond could go flying with you. But it was hard to get you out of the sky once you had been given wings. You flew on Urrax every day, determined to make the most of having a loyal dragon companion.
Aemond was a tough nut to crack, he would lash out if he felt vulnerable, and preferred to let you do majority of the talking in your friendship. But eventually, he opened up to you, and you listened to his worries, his fears. About how he could not live up to his mother’s expectations, or how his father barely took the time to know him, or how Aegon treated him as the punchline of all his jokes. This broke your heart, so as much as you could, you tried to include Aemond when you spent time with your grandsire.
One day, while the two of you were with the king and queen, Alicent mentioned that some lord had married a girl half his age. Without thinking, you blurted out that you didn’t want to marry some stinky old man. Viserys chuckled, “and who would you wish to marry, my darling?”
You pondered it for a moment, before deciding. “I would marry Aemond, because I already know I like him.”
The king nodded humouredly, “ah. And are you amenable to this, Aemond?”
Aemond had flicked his eyes to you, strangely contemplative for a ten-year-old. “It would not be such a bad thing,” he eventually teased back, and you whooped in mock triumph.
Though Alicent laughed alongside your grandsire, before redirecting the conversation, the brief look she gave you had said it all. You may have been the firstborn child of the heir to the throne, and the darling ‘sea drake’ of your grandfather the king, but as far as she was concerned, your hair was the wrong colour, and you were not worthy of her son.
Not that you understood any of this at the time.
No, at that point, you were starting to consider a lifetime with Aemond by your side.