Legacy of the White Dragon: A Dance of Dragons

Chapter 40: Blood of the Dragon

Aemon Targaryen (109 A.C. Ten Moon twenty-two day.)

Beach near High Tide

He felt whole holding little Arya being wrapped against his chest. 'It was a bond he felt similar to Aegon, although he could only show fatherly affection to the boy in private. Although that would be possible now, when he grew older, he could now be more than an uncle to him. Yet, with Arya, he didn't need to. He showered the child with all the love it deserved.' He thought as he kissed her silver hair crown.

He wondered if Alyssa would be happy with her great-grandchild. 'Maybe his father didn't talk often of Alyssa and knew some of what was written in the histories. He hoped she would be happy.'

A rumble pulled him out as Balerion landed on the beach. "Ready, Arya? I suspect your namesake would have loved doing what you are doing now. Although before, there was no time. Now we have plenty of time, and you will fly through the skies one day as true Targaryen." Arya only bubbled at his words, yet he liked any little sound she made.

"Is this one of your hatchlings," Balerion questioned as his giant face came close and when he sniffed the smell of Arya. He could feel the change in wind flow. "Arya Targaryen, meet Balerion, my oldest friend beside Ghost." He said to Arya.

He said, and Balerion moved even closer, and he could feel the heat of him. He took Arya's little hand and put it on a scale of Balerion. Arya giggled at the touch. "A dragon for true," Balerion said through their link.

"Come, little one, let's get you on your first flight." He said as he mounted Balerion. 'Oh, I should have done this with Arya before the battle to reconnect with her. Unfortunately, it was now too late for that.'

"Soves, my friend," He exclaimed as he ensured Arya secured snugly against his chest, ensuring she was well-protected. Balerion's immense wings began to spread, casting a vast shadow over the beach. The dragon's muscles coiled, and they ascended into the sky with a mighty leap.

The rush of wind greeted them, cool and refreshing. Arya's silver hair fluttered wildly, her giggles turning into joyous squeals. He felt a deep warmth in his chest, a mix of pride and affection. "Look, Arya," he said, pointing to the sprawling landscape below. "This is where dragons belong; you shall see the other part of blood one day." He murmured.

Laena's Bedchamber

He sat beside Laena's bed, cradling Arya gently in his arms. The soft morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the room. Laena lay peacefully, her breathing even, a serene expression on her face. He couldn't remember the last time he had seen her so at peace. Perhaps it was because she had given birth to their wonderful daughter just a few days ago.

As if sensing her father's thoughts, Arya let out a small, plaintive cry. He rocked her gently, murmuring soothing words. "Oh, hungry little one, should we ask muna for help?" He glanced over at Laena, watching as her eyelids fluttered open.

"Morning, my dear," he said softly. "Sleep well?"

Laena stretched languidly, a smile playing at the corners of her lips as she turned her head to look at them. "I did, surprisingly," she replied, her voice still heavy with sleep. She reached out to touch Arya's tiny hand, her fingers brushing against the baby's cheek. Arya stopped crying and stared at her mother with wide, curious purple eyes.

He couldn't help but marvel at the sight. The bond between mother and daughter was already so strong, and it filled him with a warmth he couldn't quite describe. "She missed you," he said, a smile tugging at his lips.