Gael I 90AC
"Open the gate," her voice is commanding, yet Gael is well aware that none of these guards hurrying to open the doors to the dragonpit care about her orders. No one fears a small girl with a cane and sickly complexion but the common people do fear the man who sired her.
She walks through the archway with her head held high and a smile on her face. "Thank you, good Sers" she waves to the two tall soldiers by the entrance with swords at their sides.
"Good day, Princess!" the heavier of the two shouts.
Gael nods as she passes by them. She knows she will never be feared but there is still a chance for her to have love. Wasn't love the greatest weapon after all? Powerful enough to make the Conqueror burn Dorne and for Rhaenys to ignore all wisdom and betroth herself to the Sea Snake? Well, at least it was in all the songs her septas would sing to her in the cradle. The brave Ser slew a dozen pirates to rescue his beautiful bride…
Beads of sweat form on her arms from the summer heat as the weather punishes the dragon pit. The dragons feel it too, their shrieks muted, their puffs of smoke small and pathetic. Balerion is just a helpless mass of scales as she makes her way over to Tessarion's enclosure.
She is sleeping on her side. The Blue Queen's cobalt scales shimmering in the sun. The reflection creates little patches of brightness in the shaded area under the two trees planted. Gael gently places a hand on her left horn before walking over to the cart that houses her saddle.
She needs a guard to help her, to her embarrassment. What sort of dragonrider can't even get on her own mount without assistance? She bets that Rhaenys never does. Not with her confidence and muscular Baratheon build. But then Gael is flying and somehow her thoughts become just as miniscule as King's Landing is now that she is high above.
The breeze blows her skirts around and the air smells of the salt from the sea. She gazes down at the blue black waters dotted with white caps and little sailboats that resemble the ones at the bottom of her old toy chest. If Father never lets you claim a dragon then you can always sail to the end of the world, sister. Serra laughs, her deep purple eyes twinkling with mischief. Gael smiles and rests her hands on Tessa's smooth scales.
"I have a dragon," she mutters to herself. That does little to diminish the sound of her heart beating in her ears.
She's supposed to be happy, she knows. Be grateful you're a Princess, Gael. Maegelle's voice rings in her head. Do you know how many little girls would kill to have what you have? Her fists tighten. Of course she knows and it only makes it worse.
Tears fill her eyes and the world disappears into blurry shapes of color. She urges Tessa faster, so that maybe, just maybe she can be faster than the demons that plague her mind. Aegon, Daenerys, Alyssa, Daella, Viserra, Gaemon, Valaerion. I don't want to lose you too, my Winter Child. Her mother whispers.
A scream escapes her mouth, and there is no biting her lip this time. Gael hunches over, her head between Tessa's horns, until all the breath she has is gone.
She shakes her head and wipes her eyes when she finishes. Her mouth is dry now. She is fixing her skirts when she notices the flaps of wings and a dark shadow above her.
"Gael," she turns her head at the call of her name and raises an eyebrow.
"What do you want, Baelon?" she fires back.