Maegor was the only of his generation of Targaryens to not have a dragon yet. Try as he might, he had never bonded with a mount in his youth.

Unlike is elder half brother with his great beast named Quicksilver; or his mother and the queen of dragons Vhagar, Maegor was without a bond.

But his younger half-sister, the shy, timid girl he’d been betrothed to since her birth, had always promised to take him for a flight on her mount once he was large enough to saddle two.

She insisted he come to the yard and help her train her bonded friend, learning the commands and techniques alongside her for the day he inevitably found his long awaited pairing.

Maegor did this not because he wanted to, he did this begrudgingly. He knew the efforts of bonding with a dragon were fruitless; that he’d never actually use these Valyrian commands.

He did this because she flashed him that smile and asked to spend time with him, and who followed up on her promises. On a late nameday, her mount was large enough to saddle the both of them.

Maegor had flown before with their father, his mother, but flying with her was different and he couldn’t explain why. Maybe it was because your wedding day was less than a year away or perhaps it just felt lighter some how.

He’d never imagine he would have to scramble forward in the saddle for the reins when your chain gave way half way through an ascent. Maegor had never anticipated shouting those commands as she plummeted from their shared saddle toward the dark waves of the Gullet below.