Prologue
Ameryllis could run faster than anyone, even her brother Aegon- and he was two years her senior!
She loved to feel the wind whipping through her silver curls, and hear the air rushing past her.
Amie felt just like a dragon; soaring faster than anything else, the whole world just a blue beneath her feet.
Ameryllis would have given anything to see a real dragon; her great-grand-mother Queen Daenerys had had three- three dragons! But two were killed in the war, when the Mother of Dragons conquered Westeros, just like Aegon the Conqueror before her.
Queen Daenerys had been a wonderful ruler, Amie was told, but even the Targaryen Queen herself could not live forever, and neither could her dragons.
The tales of the final battle, where Queen Daenerys went against the Lannister forces had enchanted the young princess since she was old enough to sit by the firelight and listen to her Maester's stories. Ameryllis had relived the battle in her mind, Queen Daenerys was almost beaten; of her two dragons one was wounded and the other dead.
The Kingslayer himself rushed at Daenerys, his golden sword gleaning as it swung towards the fair Queen.
Then sudden as a storm, the third dragon, double the size of its siblings and black as pitch, came soaring down. He was called Drogon, the flamedeath, he appeared from nowhere, and put the entire battlefield in shadow.
The lions dropped their weapons as they gazed up in terror, and then Drogon set the world alight.
He shot flames that extended at least five hundred feet, hotter than the seven hells and roaring so loud and bright that across the narrow sea and beyond the wall, the night sky was lit up with flames and the people awoken from their slumber.
Drogon burnt each and every man alive, he killed them all- Targaryen or Lannister. But from it all rose Queen Daenerys, completely untouched by the Dragonfyre of her child. It was a massacre- countless thousands turned to ash and ember.
Yet the Dragon Queen had more men left alive, and a dragon larger than the Red Keep as well. The Lannister forces which remained swore fealty, as well as the other six kingdoms. The would-be-King Stannis Baratheon was beheaded as a traitor for refusing to kneel, as well as the Queen Cersei and boy-King Tommen.
All that was left of the Kingslayer was a puddle of molten gold, and that gold was forged into a crown- the crown which Queen Daenerys wore until she breathed her last breath, the crown that her son had worn and his son after, the crown that Amie's brother Aegon would one day wear upon his silver locks. Ameryllis dreamed more than she lived, mama said.
She lived her life in the histories, the songs, the tales told by candlelight. Everything was magic to Amie- when she ran faster than anyone she was Drogon, melting the wicked lions, when she wanted to get away, when she was upset of afraid, she would just close her lilac eyes tight and imagine herself as a dragon. Ameryllis Targaryen loved the power, the power she felt only in dreams.
Amie loved to be able to fly far above her worries, to burn and melt away anyone who hurt her with a stream of powerful flame. She wanted nothing more than to be Drogon the flamedeath, to be Queen Daenerys the Mother of Dragons, to be Aegon the Conqueror- or even Aegon her thirteen year old brother.
For at least Aegon would be the King if not a dragon, Aegon wouldn't be married off, Aegon wouldn't have to sew and curtesy, Aegon would get to choose what he did. Aegon would have power; he would have power as strong as Dragonfyre and he wouldn't need to dream to get it. But Ameryllis Targaryen was trapped; no matter how young she was she understood that.
Queen Daenerys had been a rare thing- a woman who had power, and who remained the ruler of Westeros even when she married. But Amie was no Daenerys Stormborn; she was just a little girl, a little princess.
And the dragons were truly gone now, all that was left was the faded sigil of the great flag which swung above the Red Keep, and the dragons heads of course, Drogon's enormous skull hanging beside Balerion's.
The black dread and the flamedeath were almost twins- so alike in size, and each had been conquerors, winners of wars as well.
But there were no more dragons, no more Daenerys Targaryens, no more power or hope of being Queen.
Ameryllis could run faster than anyone else, and she could tell stories better than anyone else, she knew her history lessons better than anyone else, and she was perhaps more of a dragon- more of a Targaryen than anyone else.
But Amie would never fly, she would never breathe flame and melt her enemies away, Amie would never be the Queen and she would never have a dragon's power.