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I am out with lanterns, looking for myself - Emily Dickinson
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When at last the chance arose, I departed Pentos under starry skies, Lyrax's wings dark against the moon. As the last morn arrived to set sail on Daemon's flagship, I stood ashen faced upon the docks. Sharis' arms around my shaking frame.
"You will do so well, Maella. All of King's Landing shall know your flame." the lady says proudly through her own tears.
With a final embrace, I turned to board the waiting vessel, Lyrax wheeling overhead. As Pentos faded into the mist, I clung to the rails, heart torn in two. But my so called destiny awaited across the waves, and there was no returning now to the past. Only the future and all its mysteries. The sea voyage passes in a blur of swirling seas and moonlit nights spent wandering the top deck with Lyrax by my side. I keep largely to myself, observing all with my lambent gaze and committing to memory each crew member's name and duty.
Only Daemon seems able to draw me into easy conversation, regaling me tales of past battles on Dragonstone shores as they sailed ever southward. A part of me still held the brooding man at arm's length, yet another recognized in him a stubborn fire that calls to my own dragon's blood. When first the craggy coast of Westeros emerged on the horizon, I can't contain a flutter of both anticipation and trepidation within my chest. Soon the massive city itself comes into view, its great stone battlements crowning Aegon's High Hill like gnarled claws.
The beating of dragon wings signaled our approach long before the Red Keep came into view through the early evening haze. I peer over my fathers shoulder, gripping tighter as his dragon banks sharply to avoid detection. Below, the massive castle sits shrouded in shadows, candles in distant windows flicker like fireflies as night descends.
"Just a bit longer, little dragon." Daemon calls back over the rushing wind. I nod, hunkering down against his armored back. I dare not speak for fear of being overheard, though my heart thunders as loud as my father's dragon's wings.
We had landed well outside the city under cover of dusk, my parents and I dismounting hastily before continuing on foot through narrow alleys and side streets. I struggle to keep pace with Rhaenyra and Daemon's long strides, mindful of hands and eyes that might recognize us in the fading light. At every turn I expected to find Goldcloaks waiting to spirit me away, back to Pentos.
As we draw near the castle, Daemon signals a halt, pulling me and my mother into a shadowed nook. He peers around the corner, eyes scanning the perimeter wall above for patrols. Seeing none, he beckons us forward in a low crouch. Together, we hurry across the remaining stretch of open ground, fleeing into the deeper darkness under the stone arches of the postern gate.
Here our quest grows more dangerous, for within the castle walls we will most likely be spotted. Father leads us swiftly through twisting corridors, up staircases and across parapets until at last we reach the kitchens.
