It is currently WINTER in WESTEROS during the year 303 AC. The new moon cycle marks a full twenty years since the Mad King was murdered, and his son King Rhaegar ascended the Iron Throne in his place. Though the year is fresh, war in the Narrow Sea has left the Free Cities of Volantis and Tyrosh in ashes, and the Long Night continues to beckon from the Northern fringes of the Seven Kingdoms. With the Queen Lyanna presumed dead, the citizens of the realms look only to each other for survival.
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 Blood of Dorne, Tag Aegon Targaryen
 Posted: May 6 2018, 06:09 PM
KP is Offline
19 years old

The dragonpit was a mighty structure to behold, for it truly had to be to be able to house the dragons of the Targaryen royal family. They were huge creatures, and terrifying at first meeting, but when one is married to a Targaryen, you grow used to them. At least, that is how Ysera felt about them. For when Matarys came to live in Dorne, so came Yraenyx. There was some initial worry by those in the area, unnerved by having the silvery dragon flying overhead and possibly burning down their keeps in their sleep, but once everyone realized that Yraenyx was not like that, he had become simply a familiar presence to the mountains bordering Dorne.

Ysera watched the silver scaled dragon as he was being cared for by the handlers of the dragonpit, dark eyes making sure that all was right. With Matarys having been so injured in the war, as soon as she was able to Ysera found herself visiting the dragonpit to check on her husbands dragon. The two of them were still learning to get along with one another, and some days were better than others. A few times she had been able to touch Yraenyx, to stroke his scales like she had seen Matarys do, though she dared not do anything further without Matarys nearby to calm Yraenyx. Certainly she has been hesitant to even fly on Yraenyx with Matarys, and given how shortly they have been married and then sent into battle, there hadn't been much opportunity for such things.

She watched the dragons from a careful distance, dark eyes glancing over them all when a yell went out that Prince Aegon and Aemithor had returned from their flight. She watched as the mightest of the dragons, with his blood red scales and black horns, returned to the dragonpit. And with him, looking so very small in comparrison to his dragon, was Aegon.

The blood of Elia Martell, may she rest in peace, flowed through his veins, and while he had the looks of his Targaryen ancestors Ysera could see traces of his Dornish ancestry. Perhaps that is why, during the fighting to reach the inner city, she had all but thrown herself infront of him to keep him from harm. For it had been his capture that had caused Ysera and Matarys speedy marriage, for should anything have happened to Aegon and then to Visenya and their unborn child, it would be Matarys and Ysera who would become first in line for the Iron Throne. Something Ysera most definitely did not want, something that she knew Matarys did not want either. She wanted her now goodbrother to live a long and happy life, with plenty of sons who will keep Matarys and herself far from the throne and allow them to live in peace in Dorne.

"How was your flight?" She called out to her goodbrother as he descended from his dragon, approaching carefully as to not upset Aemithor or any of the other dragons present. The two of them haven't had a proper conversation since before Ysera was married to his brother, and even before then there was a significant lack of contact due to one situation after another. But now, with the halfman Lannister captured and everyone home and healing, surely now was the time to strengthen the bonds between family members.
Aegon Targaryen
 Posted: May 15 2018, 10:41 PM
Laurie is Offline
21 years old
The Iron Throne

Though it was built for dragons, Aegon could barely manage to convince Aemithor to enter the Dragonpit. He was an easy mount, when in comparison to his sibling's levithans, and yet, he refused. He stood a being without bend in the matter. Aemithor, with his blood red scales and black horns, and swirling eyes of power, said no. He would not bow in the cavernous building that made lizards out of his ancestors, as if he were haunted by their stunted ghosts. He had patted his side, Come now, they will care for you, and stroked an ego larger than his own, They will oil your horns and shed the excess scales, you will shine a dark diamond in the night sky. For one of the few times, Aegon had coaxed the beast inside.

He dismounted and directed the care of his scaled partner to another servant. The other dragons had not seemed as observant and hesitant about the pit, at least not when in Aegon's presence. His own winged creature sensed it, as Aegon did his own shackles of the throne room. He would thrive, but it would be in open air, how could he demand less for his other half? He looked back to the giant, with his tail swinging behind the caretakers as they chipped at caked dirt and debris. "You will shine, let them pamper you. Even I need a bath once in awhile," Aegon called, a laugh echoing in the pit.

The voice that greeted him was not one he expected, at least not that the moment. It was Ysera, the newly made wife of his younger brother Matarys. He smiled, lightly, greeting her with the warmth he could muster, "It was fine. The lands southeast of the Capitol still look green and untouched by any of the winter winds." That was the truth, the part he left unspoken was the choas that had begun in the west, the raids around the shoreline, and the promise of a new season in Dorne - where all the seasons had barely touched before, even the worsts of winter Dorne, with its bright sands and earthly heats, as if hell had cracked the crusts of dirt in two and poured out of Hellholt, the summer sea provided endless basking, and the Water Gardens were always stained with the juice of overripe fruits.

It had been too long, perhaps, since Aegon last experienced Dorne as Elia Martell's heir. He had been a Prince of Dorne, and still was, as much as of Westeros. He looked to the Dornish girl before him, wondering if the Gods entertained an alternative timeline in which had had wed her instead. Would she been any different that the fire that claimed his arm, would his role be changed, his duty altered? His mind worked much the same a his father, considering all roads untaken and even those unrepresented, "How do you fair?

He wanted to ask of his brother, how his kneecap seemed to heal with the aid of the splint and his fever cleared from the toxicity, and yet, Ysera had suffered her own injuries. Like many of the war. And Aegon, relatively unscathed. He cursed himself, wishing to absorb some of the pain of his subjects, even though he knew he could not. He wondered if she thought herself safe, with the halfman captured and half of Essos aflame, for he did not. He still doubted. He let the makings of his imagination draw his cheeks gaunt as the days continue on, wondering how to best perform his duties. He thought his brothers might have an answer, for all they ran from the throne. Abandoned, to deal with the course of history and the thread of the realm, was how he felt wither they truly had or not.

"Have you checked on Matarys?" He dared to ask, "I worry about my brother. Perhaps, overly so with such care provived by nurses and his new wife. I don't know if I've truly offered my congratulations," He paused thinking of the hastiness of their union,"For which I apologize and offer the sincerest of promises to make right once the turmoil of our lands have been righted."

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