Dragon Born (House of The Dragon)

CHAPTER I:

            Lavender Velaryon's name was written in the histories before she had passed her first winter.
            The grand tale of her birth in an abandoned hut on a small island beyond the Stepstones. A cradle, perched above a fire. A child, encased in what looked like, felt like and even smelt like a dragon's egg. Scrolls distributed around the room, scrawled with notes on blood transfusions and the birth of dragons.
            Many claim that when Lord Corlys Velaryon of Driftmark found the egg, placed upon the burning fire, swaddled by lavender and mint, he wept in shock, afraid of what dark and foul magic was at play before him. He had touched the egg, a simple yet strong gesture, and the shell began to crack and break away, revealing a babe within. If one is to believe the stories, the Lord of the Tides allowed this child to be born through their connection in blood. That was when she had opened her eyes and looked upon the Lord of the Tides and smiled.
            Lavender had never believed the history books. Yet, every time her father retold the tale, it got more and more fanciful, and plain outrageous. Lavender Velaryon would always look upon her father and smile.
            Corlys had given Lavender all that they had taken from the witch, her notes, her journals, jewelry and finery. She had kept little, save the notes. The journals entertained Lavender for many years. Her favourite entry was the one about her birth mother, Saera Targaryen. The witch had colourful things to say. The witch was not the only one, Lavender realised quite early in life.
             The first time the Dragon Born witnessed the grand structures of King's Landing was when she was barely a winter old. Her father had taken her before King Viserys I and before the entire world. She had been proclaimed a Velaryon in that moment, the undoubted, legitimate daughter of the Queen Who Never Was and the Lord of the Tides. Lavender never had a problem fitting in with her family, despite her obviously different appearance. The only colours of the Velaryon bloodline were the small splashes of white in her black hair and the slight purple in her dark eyes.
            Her bond with Corlys solidified her position within the family and strengthened her ties to her siblings. No one questioned her claim to the name Velaryon. She was a fast learner and quickly became her father's shadow, learning all she could from him, soaking in the experiences at court and at sea. Her childhood was peaceful, a rare thing for women in Westeros. All she is to this day, she owes to her family, to her father.
             Despite her childhood, despite her father's education and support, she always longed to return to the city. To King's Landing. She loved the city. The people, the noise, the views. She swore she knew every single nook and cranny of the city, as if she had built it with her own two hands, before she had passed her fifth winter. She had spent most of her summers as a child in King's Landing, learning from her cousins and spent the fall seasons alongside the King and Princess Rhaenyra. When she wasn't in the city, she was beside her father. She could ask for no more.
             As she grew older, her time in the city grew shorter and less frequent. She had a rather inexplicable knack for herbalism, able to create ailments from scratch to staunch bleeding, cure boils and even help grow back hair on an old Lord's head. Many lords sought her services and ailments. She often travelled from city to city, lord to lord, servicing those who were ill and in need. She was also rather clever and tactful, able to win over an entire throne room of arguing nobles, able to send a simple smile to a Lord and receive an army of troops to her father's cause.
            When she wasn't in court, she roamed the city. Offering her healing and assistance to the people. Never accepting anything in return, except for one's name. Searching for nooks and crannies. Climbing towers and scaling walls. Her father always knew where to find her. He never reprimanded her for the behaviour. That was her mother's responsibility. The Princess seemed to enjoy scolding her.
            Lavender eventually became a distant friend to King's Landing, spending only a few weeks a year behind the city walls. She missed the people. When she was in the city, she trained with King Viserys' children. With the Queen Alicent. She enjoyed her time with the children. She considered them friends, for a time. By the time Lavender was ten and six, she had almost completely abandoned the city and all hopes of returning. Her father had sent her to the Stepstones, to aid the men fighting for her father.
            The things she saw were the fuel for her nightmares, though many claim the cursed dreams started when she witnessed the death of her brother Leanor in 120 AC. Many of these men were beyond saving. If one is to believe the stories, Lavender was the only one able to keep these men from Death's door. She was no longer Dragon Born, but Curse Breaker. She didn't mind. Part of her enjoyed the responsibility, helping others. She looked toward meeting new people, knowing their names, their stories. Even if it were only for a small moment in time.
            Her earlier years shaped her into someone with deep seated anger. Where it stemmed from, she couldn't say. She wasn't sure if it were her blood or her experiences at war, but eventually, it grew a voice and teeth and malice. Eventually, that voice grew to hate her. She spoke not a word of the voice, not a word of the feelings that swarmed within her like a wildfire. No one would seek her for healing if she herself were not well.
            Upon her return to Driftmark in 129 AC, Lavender had been delighted to hear her mother's proposition: Return to King's Landing to aid the ill King. Lavender craved the city. Craved normality. She wished to see her family. She wished to breathe in the stale city air. To be with the dragons in the Pit. To be whole again, if that were even possible. She had not hesitated, accepting her mother's proposal immediately. A large part of her heart ached to see the King one final time before he passed.
            The King had always been kind to her. He had always ensured she was looked after, safe, a true member of the family. On her fifth name day, she was given a space of her own in the castle- bedchambers to signify her permanent residence. An invitation that she will always be welcome back. That it was a place she could call home. She was never able to thank the King for all he had done. Now was her chance. It wasn't until her arrival to the city that Lavender began to breathe. The moment did not last.