#heretherebebookdragons

His mother had made many embroideries with dragons for him to hold. He has one on his blanket, and one on the banner of his wall. He brushed his fingers against the needlework often. He had gotten a glimpse of only one dragon in his life, his uncle’s one. Big, burly Vhagar, who was big enough to see from his window; father calls her a flying mountain.

But then again, Jaehaerys says Shrykos is the size of a dog, and mother says Dreamfyre is the color of lavender flowers. Father says he named Sunfyre for the sun, and Jaehaera says “Morghul is Morghul,” without much explanation given. 

And Maelor? He has his little egg, in that container that warms the underneath of his bed. What would it look like? He wonders. They say it could hatch soon. Mama had told him it is Shrykos’s egg, it would likely look like her. And papa says Shrykos is Sunfyre’s and Dreamfyre’s, and in that case, “he should get to know them all.”

He is jittery in his seat. He turns his gaze from his father and mother to his siblings looking between them for an answer. “When there?”

His parents snicker both, staring at them three.

“Eh…” Jaehaerys tries to estimate with some undecipherable count with his fingers, while Jaehaera’s gaze flicks to the window.

“Now,” his sister says, coming up from her seat even before the wheelhouse stopped fully. She squeezes his hand, tugging at it at the same time for him to rise. Jaehaerys jumps to stand before him, and Maelor rushes to do the same. His feet rattle the wheelhouse with little jumps in his place, waiting for the door to open.

“Maelor, you will trip, sweet,” His mother warns, lighthearted in tone.

“Ser Rickard,” his father raises his voice in a merry timbre and looks out of the window. “Release my dragons before they chew the damn door!”

Ser Rickard does. Maelor’s siblings hum chipperly and jump to the ground without waiting for assistance, holding his hands all the while. His mother squeaks to stand as his legs hit the ground. 

“Haera, Rys, be careful!” Helaena says. “Maelor, all is well?” She worries for a moment, while Maelor looks at the big, big building he sees in front of him. A dome of sorts, with big, walls and doors of dark stone. The rumble underneath it, underneath his feet, feels almost alive. 

It springs Maelor’s feet into life, skipping ahead. “Let’s go mama!!”

His siblings follow, as do his parents, as do his guards, all flying in.

—

Maelor makes rounds around the head dragonkeeper as they wait for the dragons to be let out. He doesn’t quite understand whatever the man is saying, except a few words here and there that he heard his family saying lots. He knows Jaehaera is counting his spins in High Valyrian, he knows numbers, from one to two and ten, to be exact, but the older dragonkeeper’s words are fancy, with rolling sounds that sound draconic.

He tries to copy the rolling ‘r’ to little avail, but that doesn’t stop him from trying right up to the point he hears a familiar name coming from the man’s mouth. Morghul. His sister perks up, coming forward. From the depths of the pit, a first dragon comes forward, charcoal black scales that seem to resent light upon them. Maelor steps back when he notices his dark horns, keeping by his mother’s skirt. 

Up close, a dragon looks unreal to him. Uncle’s flying mountain is big dot in the sky, and mother’s embroideries remind him of her harmless bugs. He hasn’t expected Morghul to be so… scary?

Morghul is Morghul, and his gaze is as piercing as his sister’s when she’s angry. The rest of his family are very calm as his sister's fingers brush against the dragon’s sharp teeth. “The hellspawn grew bigger quickly, huh,” his father notes. Hell? 

His mother hums. “He may be able to be saddled soon,” she says, running her fingers through Maelor’s light curls.

“Dont remind me,” Aegon says, fiddling with his fingers. “She’ll forget I exist then,” he looks down to Maelor, who was watching them both. He reaches to ruffle his hair. “Like you are starting to even without one, little twerp.”

Maelor scrunches his nose and shakes his head, moving to embrace his father’s leg. “Not true!”

His father hums, letting him hang off of his leg. He slowly relaxes as when he smooshes his cheek against his father’s side. 

Until a woosh of green sweeps through the room, and Maelor holds onto his father tight. A loud shriek is heard as the form breaks out with it from the dark of the pit, lunging at his brother. A dragon slightly smaller than Morghul topples Jaehaerys, a long green wingspan twinkling under the light.

A dragonkeeper rushes after and wipes his forehead as he sighs - the head dragonkeeper grunts and then dismisses himself to help the novices to bring the bigger dragons. Maelor looks towards his brother, his heart bouncing more than his feet now. The dragon looks like it is made of his grandmother’s jewels, but those can scratch you, too. 

“Dohaeeeras!” Jaehaerys yells chipperly, rolling around with the dragon that tried to nuzzle his face. His giggles echo around the room. Maelor breathes in, as he understands the dragon is Shrykos. She does not remind of a dog, but of a rampant pony.

“Sunfyre’s hatchling through and through,” his mother comments to his father.

His father snickers. “The derangement is from your dragon.”

“Is it?” his mother asks with a smile, as a big, big dragon the color of lavender flowers is brought in. His mother steps forward and away from him, saying some words he can’t understand. Mama’s dragon? Dreamie, with her silver-glistening scales and pale blue eyes. 

The dragon looks at his mother once, listening with a cocked head, and looks towards his brother and his dragon. Dreamfyre’s steps are loud on the ground, and she cranes her big head and opens her mouth to grab Shrykos by tail, pulling the younger dragon back gently.

Shrykos answers her with shrieks, resistance and threats of the short breaths of fire. Dreamfyre lets Shrykos go when she starts beating its wings, returning the threat of flame with a whistle of her own flame, just barely touching the green dragon. Shrykos seems to shriek towards Morghul for help, the black dragon coming to help the green. Mother chuckles, seeing Dreamfyre swatting the two with her head, and his siblings come beside her, copying their dragons and playing against their mother. 

Maelor hides behind his father. His bones feel wobbly now. 

And then one more dragon enters the room. The last one, father’s, golden like the one on father’s shirts. Aegon ruffles Maelor’s hair again and then moves to greet and pet the dragon. “Hello,” his father tells Sunfyre with a big smile. 

And in the chaos of dragons and riders in the room, Maelor feels very small, very jittery, and even very lonely. Thick tears cloud his lash line. He wipes at his eyes. He needs to be brave. His parents and siblings thought he would be ready to meet their dragons, that he would be prepared to get his dragon.

“There is someone you should kn…” his father starts. He turns back towards Maelor when the boy wipes at his eyes, trying to make them disappear before he notices. “Son?”

The golden dragon looks at Maelor with his equally golden eyes. Maelor stays frozen when the dragon steps forward to him. He lowers his neck, and his big nostrils take a whiff of him. Maelor’s own nose is full of snot, he doesn’t even know what the dragon smells; some tears fall. 

And then, Sunfyre brings his snout, and pokes at it lightly against his forehead, ruffling at Maelor’s curly, silver fringe. The dragon voice is rolling some guttural ‘grrr,’ more familiar to Maelor as similar to the calming purr of the Keep’s cats.

Maelor sniffs away his tears when his father crouches beside him. Patting his back lightly. “Don’t fret, he is used to crying twerps. I daresay he even likes them,” Aegon chuckles, glancing at his dragon. “Will you pat him? I think that will please him plenty.” 

Maelor licks his small lips, and offers a shaky hand. It reaches the dragon’s chin, touching the gold of his scales. It doesn’t feel too different from touching his own egg; coarse and warm. He soon gains the courage to reach over with his other hand too, and Sunfyre nearly chirps.

Maelor giggles, a big smile drawn on his face. That laughter echoes in the room now, and his mother and siblings notice it too. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera played with their mother on the ground no better than their dragons in the air, but with one word from mother his siblings ran towards him.

Jaehaerys and Jaehaera rushed from under Sunfyre to reach him. Jaehaerys pats his head and showed him how he pats Sunfyre under his chin, and Jaehaera wipes his glassy eyes and kisses his eyebrows, saying “good” when his face is clean. Mother comes closer, and bends to kiss the top of his head, saying “well done.”

And his father — he looks around the room, seeing his siblings’ dragon batting their wings around Dreamfyre, as if in request — and turns to his mother. “We could take them for a ride, couldn’t we? There is time.”

His siblings perk up looking at their mother with bright pleas.

“I think so. We came all this way already, why not?” Helaena says with a grin, and looks at their children. “Would you like that?” 

Jaehaera and Jaehaerys nod and squeal happily, babbling. Aegon looks at Maelor, almost stealing his snotty nose with his thumb and index. 

“And you? Would you like to ride Sunfyre with me, twerp?”