A. N. This is the first in a series of drabbles I might do for Baela Targaryen. I was quite fascinated with her as soon as I read The Princess and the Queen, so here I am: making both a canon story and an AU one for the same period. I wonder what would become of them. I hope I'll be able to keep them both up!

Dance with the Moon, Reach for the Sun

Travelling with Father was always something she took as a prize. Rhaena loved sitting quietly and combing her dolls' hair but when Father suggested that he took Baela for a flight with him, she jumped up and down and bolted for the door immediately to look entranced as he saddled Caraxes.

"May I help you?" she asked eagerly and Prince Daemon laughed, lifting her up, so she could arrange the big saddle. She was very pleased with herself. How had Father managed to deal with Caraxes without her help before?

The cold wind against her face was something she always relished. She squirmed a little to get her little arms out of her father's firm grasp and took the hat off her hair, so the wind could whip it just as she liked. Flying was her most favourite thing in the world and she was quite disgruntled each time they had to stop so Father could confer with those big men in yellow cloaks.

That was the little Baela could remember from the time before her mother died. It must have been after one of those rides when they descended and she was confronted by the sight of another dragon, as pale as twilight. She gasped with delight; when she looked at the other side, she saw a third dragon, red as flame.

Father, though, was not as happy. He murmured something under his breath and took himself and Baela down; when she raised her hands up waiting for him to lift her so she could unsaddle Caraxes, he snapped, "Not now, Baela" in such a tone that she huddled miserably a few steps away as he hurriedly finished taking Caraxes' gear off.

Once he was ready, he grabbed Baela and headed for the inside of the Red Keep where their chambers were. In a blue hallway, he suddenly stopped.

Years later, Baela could not remember her uncle Laenor's face but somehow, his voice she never forgot. The lower tone. The slight shaking. "Your child was not willing to be born, Daemon," he proclaimed darkly. "If you hurry up, you can still manage to say goodbye to her."

Baela went to another pair of arms. Now, it was her grandmother holding her.

That was the only time Baela saw The Queen Who Never Was weep.


"We're here," Father said. "This is your home."

The little girls looked at each other. Their home? There weren't three high hills or so many houses. A single peak rose above a small thing called island where a crowd had gathered to meet them. Baela was used to the cheering and greeting they got, especially when they were with Father on Caraxes, as they were now… but this crowd was so small. It wasn't like home at all.

"Dragons!" Rhaena squealed in delight and Baela looked around. "No, no," Rhaena insisted and caught her sister's hand to point downward. "There!"

Baela looked and gasped. The castle in front of them and down – it was made of dragons! Dragon towers, dragon gargoyles, and gates big enough to let a dragon through.

Somewhere from the distance, a true dragon roared. Caraxes roared back, the sound rumbling through his mighty body and felt by the riders like a rippling wave.

The girls started squirming, unable to contain their excitement to reach the ground. Prince Daemon laughed and squeezed them more tightly, although their straps would not let them slide anyway.

And then, they were down, looking curiously around. Baela's eyes finally found a woman with fair braided hair with rubies strung in it. Her gown in red and silver swept the ground as she nodded at Father. "My lord husband, I welcome you home."

Father stepped ceremoniously forward and kissed her hand. "My lady, I am happy to be reunited with you."

After a few more words, the woman came near the girls. Rhaena blushed and looked down. Baela, on the contrary, looked up in a pair of purple eyes just like her own. "Ah, what a lovely hair you have," the woman said.

Now, Baela looked down. Everyone talked about her hair and she had grown tired of it.

The woman sighed. "I am sorry," she said. "I don't know how to behave around girls, I suppose. I only have boys. Three of them. My Luke is a year older than you and Joffrey is a year younger but I suppose in time you could become friends if…"

Baela's little face twisted in a scowl. Boys. Baela did not like boys. Aemond was a boy and he was bad. Daeron was a boy, too, but he rarely had time for her.

"No boys," Rhaena murmured.

"Ah," their father said. "So you can be brave when you need, my sweet? It's good to see."

The woman laughed. "She's a dragon, my lord. A sweet one but a dragon nonetheless."

"Then," Prince Daemon said. "I might have taken her to the best place possible. Dragonstone."