Meg Martell is blonde and blue-eyed, much to visitors' surprise. After all, Dornish girls are supposed to be dark-haired and dark-eyed. But Meg has deep blue eyes like some of the Baratheons, and golden hair like the Lannisters.

But little Meg is very much a Dornish girl. Well, she's not the sort of girl who would stab you in the back or poison you, even though she has been taught how to use poison. Her dear friend Christine Stark has been married to Raoul Tully for a week, and soon it will be Meg's time to marry. While her dear friend married a man of her own ranking, Meg is betrothed to the Prince, Erik Targaryen.

They say he has a dragon's face, although others say he has the Targaryen madness which so luckily escaped his parents and grandmother, Daenerys.

Meg hopes he will like her. It will not do to be sent back home in disgrace if he does not.

XXX

Erik Targaryen knows he must be a good king, and he does try. He does not want to be a Mad King like the Mad King Aerys, his great-grandfather, or the Mad Boy-King, Joffrey. He is to marry a Dornish girl, like his grand-uncle, Rhaegar. Maege Martell, called Meg by those who know her, and therefore he shall call her Meg too.

He meets her in the gardens of King's Landing, one fine day. When he first sees her, he doesn't think her particularly Dornish-looking. She has the Lannister curls, and the Tully eyes. One would think that she wasn't Dornish at all.

When she speaks, though, she has the Rhoynish accent of the Dornish, and she wears Dornish clothes, silks wrapped around her body so gracefully, and then they fall to the floor, adorned with gold embroidery at the hem.

''It is a pleasure to meet you.'' she says, dipping into a curtsey.

''Yes, it is, I suppose.'' he tells her.

She studies him. He wears a mask, so she cannot tell if he has a dragon's face or not, like what they say about him. He is tall where she is short, pale where she is cream-skinned, with just a touch of brown, dark-haired where she is blonde.

She probably looks more Targaryen then he does.

''How do you find King's Landing?'' he asks politely.

She smiles, tells him that the gardens are very pretty. Then she looks around, and confides, ''I do think I shall grow bored if I take one more turn around them, though. Couldn't they be a little wilder?''

He gives her a small laugh, and she wishes he isn't wearing a mask so she would know if he was smiling.

XXX

Meg wears a Targaryen-style dress to accustom herself to the style that night at dinner, deep green silk with separate sleeves, and a low square neck. While Daenerys Targaryen had her own styles, her daughter in law Jaena created a style different from their old one, while the Lannisters kept the old style. She braids her hair intricately, weaving a green ribbon through.

She hopes he thinks she is pretty.

She is indeed lovely, Erik thinks. Far too lovely for a face like his. She would be better off with some fair knight who could appreciate such beauty. But she is to be his wife, and he feels sorry for her, soon to be saddled with a face such as his.

She sits opposite him at the dinner table, eats her roast mutton, is quiet and demure.

''What do you like to do?'' he asks, finally. ''You must like to do something.'' The minute the line is out, he hates himself. Oh, he is stupid. Completely stupid.

''Embroider. My Lady Mother says I'm very good at it.''

''Anything else?''

''Well,'' she thinks, ''I should like to learn how to ride a dragon.''

Erik gapes beneath his mask. ''A dragon? I'm afraid that you would have to ask my long-dead grandmother, for while I do have a dragon, I was not taught how to ride one, and my parents were not very good at the art of it.''

''A Targaryen who cannot ride a dragon. How unfortunate.'' she jests.

''Well, before my grandmother, the last dragon-riding Targaryens were King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne.''

''What a pity.'' Meg sighs. ''I was so looking forward to it. But perhaps you could introduce me to your dragon, couldn't you? I should like to meet it.''

Erik nods his head. This he can do, at least.

XXX

The next day, Meg puts on a dress of linen, with the bodice wrapped, and the skirt long, embroidered in snakes round the hem. Today he will show her his dragon. It is is a step closer to being friends, and she leaves her room within the palace, slipping out to the gardens, where he said he would meet her.

She waits for a little while, twisting her hands in her skirt, and he comes soon enough.

His dragon is a lovely thing to look at. It is red, with gold markings, and big enough so that it reaches to his waist. ''Hello.'' she says, reaching out to touch it.

''Be careful.'' he warns. ''It can hurt people, and it could hurt you if you're not careful.''

''I grew up learning how to handle snakes and poisons. My father taught me.'' she responds, admiring the beautiful creature. ''What is his name?''

''Rhaerys.'' he says.

''How beautiful. Can I pet him?''

Erik turns, strokes Rhaerys's scales. ''Gaomagon daor worry. Ziry jāhor daor ōdrikagon ao.'' he whispers in Valyrian. Rhaerys tilts it's head, and Meg steps forward.

''Hello, Rhaerys. I'm Meg.'' she leans down, and places a gentle hand on top of Rhaerys's head. Slowly, she strokes the top of his head, and smiles.

''He's lovely.''

''Sīr issi ao.'' he says. Meg laughs, and as he starts to lead Rhaerys off, she stops him. She walks over, and kisses him quickly on his masked cheek, before running off.

Perhaps, this will be a good match after all, even though it is too early to know.

---

For those who do not understand Valryian:

Gaomagon daor ago worry. Ziry jāhor daor ōdrikagon ao: Do not worry. She will not hurt you.

Sīr issi ao: Not as lovely as you.