It is said that when the gods threw a coin at the birth of the last son of Viserys I, it mysteriously went to join that of the second daughter of the king, Maela.
The world knew the story of these two dragons who felt the strongest love for each ot...
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IT WAS ONE OF THE WORST DAYS OF HIS LIFE. Sitting under the sacred red-leafed tree, Prince Daeron was distracted playing with the grass in his hands. He dropped the pieces after stripping them with ferocity. He did not know the purpose of this decision, but Daeron was not a fool. It came from their mother and grandfather who had come to visit. The king was almost senile and did not make many decisions for his last children.
Maela had shut herself in her rooms after the news. It had been two days since the princess had left. The maids recounted that she never stopped painting in a silence of death. Paintings with dull, dark and lightless colors.
He was fed up.
Daeron pushed on his legs, determining. He was leaving in a week with their grandfather. It was out of the question that this would happen. The prince walked to his sister's rooms, ser Jarad posted in front.
— My prince, the princess-
Daeron ignored the words and entered the rooms, slamming the doors behind him.
She was still sitting in front of a painting, her hand drawing vague lines on her canvas. She had not looked up despite the noise. Maela was absorbed by her work. Her eyes were dull, focused on her actions. Her milky skin shone in the sun, but despite this light, Daeron saw melancholy. A painting he hated to see on his sister. Her, so happy usually.
He approached, and whispered his sister's name. When Daeron placed himself behind her, surprise ensued. Where the maids described darkness, there was light. Where they whispered death, he saw life. Where they spread sadness, he saw joy.
— You expected something dull ?
The prince jumped out.
— The servants whisper...
— A little too much to my taste... I was sad. The canvas behind you proves it.
Daeron turned his head and saw a canvas still uncovered, drying. The vast ocean was inhabited by raging waves. The grey of the stormy sky flowed back into the night blue of the water. Barely perceptible in the great avalanches of waves, a poor boat that was swallowed by Mother Nature unleashed.
