Series Summary: Eight years into his reign, Zuko has finally brought peace to the world—but peace is fragile, and the Fire Nation whispers louder with every passing day. Questions about succession plague the throne, while across the sea, the scandal-ridden Princess Saera Targaryen faces a far crueler fate: being forced into life as a septa to atone for her sins. The solution is as political as it is dangerous—a marriage between the Fire Lord and the infamous dragon princess. Saera is sharp-tongued, manipulative, and impossible to control; Zuko is exhausted from years of trying to rule honorably in a world that rewards ruthlessness. Their union is meant to silence dissent, restore the fractured alliance between the Fire Nation and the Seven Kingdoms, and secure both their futures. Nothing more. But court politics are deadlier than war. In a world where alliances are forged with blood and crowns are never secure, their marriage may either save two dynasties… or destroy them both.
Pairing: Fire Lord! Zuko x fem! OC
OC: Saera Targaryen
Fandom: Avatar: The Last Airbender(ATLA) and House of the Dragon(HotD)
WARNING!!! THIS CHAPTER MAY INCLUDE SPOILERS FOR THE HOTD TV SHOW AND FIRE AND BLOOD BY GRRM AS WELL AS SEXUAL INNUENDOS
word count: 2k
PREV CHAPTER: CHAPTER 5 - NEXT CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER SIX: MOONFYRE RETURNS
The royal portrait painter resigned before noon.
This was not unusual when Princess Saera Targaryen became involved.
The poor man stumbled from the Red Keep looking as though he had survived military combat rather than an artistic commission. His brushes remained abandoned inside a corridor, one canvas lay destroyed somewhere within Maegor's Holdfast, and several servants swore they heard him muttering prayers while leaving.
"How bad?" he asked wearily.
Lord Rowan rubbed his temples. "She released three cats into the studio."
"Apparently one was not dramatic enough."
Aegon stared blankly ahead.
The council chamber remained silent for several moments while everyone processed this information. Then Grand Maester Munkun sighed heavily and made notes as though documenting natural disasters.
"Why?" Lord Celtigar finally asked.
"Because," Aegon replied without emotion, "my sister is attempting sabotage."
Unfortunately, he was correct; Princess Saera had decided that if the Fire Nation wished a portrait, then the Fire Nation would receive absolutely nothing useful. The first sitting ended after she arrived wearing widow's black and informed the painter she intended to look "appropriately tragic." The second ended when she insisted her left side possessed superior beauty and refused to turn her head. The third ended after the cats. At this point, diplomacy itself seemed endangered.
"Perhaps a previous portrait?" Lord Rowan suggested carefully.
Everyone looked toward the doorway.
Princess Saera entered the council chamber with the confidence of someone entirely unashamed of her crimes. Silver hair flowed freely down her back while dark blue riding clothes replaced court gowns today, making her look less like a princess and more like someone planning rebellion.
Which honestly remained possible.
"A previous portrait?" she repeated. "Absolutely not."
"Why?" Aegon asked flatly.
Saera dropped into a chair uninvited.
"Because if Fire Lord Zuko wishes to see what I look like, he may cross an ocean and discover it personally. A sketch simply will not capture this beauty."
Lord Rowan looked deeply concerned.
Grand Maester Munkun looked unsurprised.
"You are deliberately making negotiations difficult."
"I am encouraging travel."
The king closed his eyes briefly.
Sometimes Aegon wondered whether dragons truly died during the Dance. Then Saera spoke, and he remembered at least one survived perfectly well.
"You cannot seriously expect a foreign ruler to sail across the world merely because you refuse a portrait."
The council collectively groaned.
Truthfully, Saera hated portraits.
Paintings trapped people.
Real people laughed unexpectedly and cried inelegantly and grew angry for stupid reasons. Portraits reduced them into decorative lies hanging upon walls for generations afterward. Besides, part of her stubbornly wanted to see whether this Fire Lord possessed enough curiosity to come himself.
If he sent another request for a portrait?
Unfortunately, the argument never concluded, because halfway through the meeting, screaming erupted outside. Not ordinary screaming, panic screaming. The sort of noise people made when confronted with sudden death; every council member froze, then another shout echoed across the castle.
"DRAGON!" Silence crashed through the chamber.
Aegon went pale instantly.
Saera shot to her feet. Outside, bells began ringing across King's Landing. Not celebration bells. Warning bells. People shouted in corridors while servants ran past chamber doors and distant cries echoed from every direction throughout the Red Keep.
The word alone still held power.
Aegon remained motionless.
Saera noticed immediately.
Her brother's face had gone nearly white.
Just seventeen-year-old Aegon suddenly again watching dragons devour everything he loved.
The warning bells continued.
Without thinking, she crossed the chamber and grabbed his shoulder firmly. Her brother flinched slightly at the contact but finally focused upon her instead of memories.
"It's not one of theirs."
For a moment, he simply stared.
Then realization slowly appeared.
Because there was only one dragon it could be.
The king exhaled shakily.
Saera squeezed his shoulder once before releasing him.
Then she was already moving toward the doors.
The Dragonpit dominated the skyline of King's Landing even now.
A colossal shell left behind by war.
Thousands of citizens flooded the streets surrounding the ancient structure while gold cloaks desperately attempted restoring order. Some screamed. Some prayed. Others simply stared upward in horrified fascination.
Because perched atop the shattered dome sat a dragon.
The silver she-dragon gleamed beneath afternoon sunlight like moonlight given flesh. Massive wing folded against her body while pale scales shimmered almost white except for faint blue undertones rippling across her neck and back.
The first dragon many citizens had ever seen.
The sound rolled across King's Landing like thunder.
The sound surprised even herself.
Moonfyre turned immediately.
Golden eyes larger than shields fixed upon the approaching princess. For one heartbeat, dragon and rider simply stared at each other across distance and years.
Then Moonfyre screamed again.
The dragon launched herself from the ruined Dragonpit.
Moonfyre descended through the sky with impossible grace despite her enormous size. Wind exploded across rooftops as silver wings stretched wide enough to cast entire streets into shadow.
Children pointed excitedly.
And Moonfyre landed directly outside the Red Keep.
The impact shook stone beneath everyone's feet.
"Gods preserve us," whispered Lord Rowan.
"They haven't yet," Saera replied.
Like the years between them had never existed.
Moonfyre lowered her enormous head immediately as the princess approached. Silver scales reflected sunlight while smoke curled gently from massive nostrils.
Her hand pressed against cool scales.
The dragon nudged her hard enough to nearly knock her over.
Several watching guards looked moments from fainting.
Princess Saera only laughed again.
For the first time in weeks, genuine joy lit her face.
Aegon arrived shortly afterward, accompanied by half the Kingsguard and most of the court. He stopped several yards away, visibly tense despite recognizing the dragon.
Dragons remained difficult for him.
Moonfyre noticed him too.
The dragon lowered her head slightly.
Then, cautiously, he inclined his head in return.
The gesture carried strange weight.
One survivor acknowledging another.
The silence broke when a small silver-haired blur launched itself past everyone.
The eight-year-old prince sprinted across the courtyard with absolutely no concern for personal safety. Guards shouted behind him while servants tried unsuccessfully to catch up.
Saera barely had time to turn.
The boy reached the dragon first.
Moonfyre lowered her enormous head.
And immediately sniffed him.
Maegor stood completely still.
Most children would have screamed.
Instead, the boy looked awestruck.
Moonfyre rumbled approvingly.
Saera's chest tightened painfully.
The dragon had never met him before. Yet dragons understood blood strangely. They always had.
Moonfyre nudged Maegor gently.
The sound nearly destroyed her.
"Mother," he breathed. "She's real."
"I mean—" He couldn't finish. The child simply stared. For years, Moonfyre existed only through stories. Drawings. Memories. Bedtime tales about dragons and skies and old Valyria.
Now she stood before him.
Maegor approached slowly afterward.
One small hand pressed against silver scales.
Moonfyre remained perfectly still.
The prince looked ready to explode from happiness.
Meanwhile, servants discovered a leather tube secured beneath the dragon's saddle.
"Your Grace!" someone called.
A messenger carefully removed the tube before hurrying toward her. Inside rested several letters marked with familiar seals.
One immediately caught her attention.
Her expression changed instantly.
She broke the seal before anyone could stop her.
I pray this finds you and Maegor well. I write with happy news rather than sorrow for once. Nearly two years have passed since Corwyn's death, and I have finally remarried.
Lord Garmund Hightower is kind. Truly kind, which still surprises me some days.
I think you would like him.
The rest blurred briefly.
Saera stared down at the parchment.
"What is it?" Aegon asked quietly.
Saera handed him the letter.
Then something remarkable happened.
Aegon's eyebrows rose slightly.
"Apparently he's decent."
"That alone makes him unusual."
The sound startled nearby courtiers.
Most had forgotten she could.
Meanwhile, Maegor remained entirely distracted by the dragon.
The prince stood beside Moonfyre, looking impossibly hopeful.
She knew that expression.
Every parent recognized it eventually.
The face children made before asking dangerous questions.
"But I haven't asked anything."
The boy looked devastated.
Moonfyre chose that exact moment to lower herself helpfully.
"The dragon is not helping your argument."
Maegor turned toward Aegon immediately.
The king visibly realized the trap.
Aegon stared at the child.
The king lasted approximately seven seconds.
The boy looked triumphant.
"One circuit," Aegon repeated carefully. "Around the bay. With you."
A genuinely impressive achievement considering he was Aegon.
Maegor practically vibrated with excitement.
Within an hour, preparations were complete.
The courtyard overflowed with spectators despite official attempts discouraging crowds. Word spread too quickly.
The city couldn't resist.
Maegor wore riding leathers several sizes too large because they belonged to someone else decades earlier. The effect should have looked ridiculous.
Instead, he resembled every Targaryen child from old paintings.
Saera adjusted straps personally.
"If you stand up, I will throw you into the sea."
And suddenly she couldn't breathe quite right.
Because he wasn't tiny anymore.
The yellow little infant everyone expected to die had become a boy who wanted dragons.
Moonfyre shifted eagerly beneath them.
Maegor settled behind her.
The child looked ready to burst.
“Sōvēs!” fly. Saera commanded the dragon, then Moonfyre launched.
The city disappeared beneath them. King's Landing shrank rapidly as silver wings beat powerful currents through open air. Wind tore through hair and clothing while Blackwater Bay unfolded below like glittering blue glass stretching endlessly toward the horizon.
Behind her, Maegor shouted with joy.
The kind adults forget exists.
Saera felt tears threatening unexpectedly.
The prince laughed louder.
And for one brief perfect moment, Princess Saera Targaryen forgot politics entirely.
Forgot marriage negotiations.
Far below, Aegon watched from the courtyard until silver wings became distant against blue horizons.
Lord Rowan approached carefully afterward.
"Do you think the Fire Lord will come?"
Toward the nephew he loved more than he admitted.
Then toward the western sea stretching beyond sight.
But if Fire Lord Zuko truly wished to understand Princess Saera Targaryen, no portrait would ever suffice.
Some people couldn't be captured in paint.
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