Chapter 1: You're Visenya
Chapter Text
Marna frowned at her father's words.
"Father?" she asked slowly, her hand tentatively reaching out to grab hold of one of his far larger, stronger and calloused ones. "What's going to change?"
Her father, Eddard Stark, smiled sadly at her and swallowed. When he drew her into his side and kissed the top of her head as he oft did when he was in a sorrowful mood, she knew that the fullness of what he was keeping from her was bad.
"Everything, my sweet," he said to her, his tone heavy with emotion. "I have not the heart to tell you, Marna. I don't think a day will pass wherein I'll ever have the heart to do so. When the King arrives with his family and retinue, it will be he and his that answer every question that you might have."
"But fa—" Marna tried, but Ned shook his head and pressed one last kiss atop her head before he withdrew.
"You'll find out in time. Until then, stay within the confines of your chambers save for meals and your training. The King will be here soon," he took one last look at her, and with a soft smile the same as the one he gave to her earlier, when first he entered her chambers — filled with sadness — he left.
Marna was confused and conflicted when the door closed and she was left to nought but her own thoughts. From the time she had forgotten to dye her hair as her father urged half a moon ago, to now… it was as if the world had changed. She was a bastard born of her father's lust, that was all she knew and yet, her father said that the royal family wished to travel to the North so that they might meet her.
Mayhaps it was all a dream, or more accurately, a nightmare. There was little honourable that a Targaryen might want from her. They were lustful and warlike, arrogant and incestuous, violent and pompous. The North had bled for them, she had lost much of her family to them, and yet, her father said that it would be they that answered her questions. It would be them that explained why they wished to see her, and finally, it would be House Targaryen that gave her the truth about her mother.
Maybe mother was a Targaryen, and that was why father acted so nervous.
She shook her head at such a foolish thought. Father wouldn't have lain with a Targaryen. He despised them, it was he that fed her half of what she knew of their family and legacy, and he that told her how the North had bled terribly for the King's lust. If he had sired her on a Targaryen woman, all that she knew of him would be turned upon its head.
Marna moved along the stone floor until she stood beside her bed, where she promptly fell backwards, onto its softness. She had been given chambers with the rest of her siblings, and in them were expensive pelts, books, swords, clothes of a high quality… everything that one might want for in life, and with meals that never ceased so long as she could eat. It was a privileged life that many thought no bastard deserved. Lady Catelyn was kinder to her than any woman could ever be expected to be too. Marna was a stain on her Lord Father's honour and a sign of disrespect to his lady wife, and somehow, the woman still found it within herself to be kind.
Mayhaps that would be different if she had been born a boy.
Little Arya, her constant companion and her best friend would likely be more distant from her person. At the very least, Marna doubted that she'd be allowed to sleep in her bed and through the storms they had. Arya, yes, that was an idea. Her little sister was clever and made for the perfect spy. If she were lucky, Arya might listen in on her father's meetings whensoever she could, and in doing so, mayhaps she could learn something, anything, to explain why the Royals might be interested in her.
Her stomach flopped and gurgled angrily. Whatever they wanted from her was likely bad. No desires that Targaryen had would be pleasant, and if the entire Royal Family was riding north with scant little detail…
Marna vowed that she would find out what it was they wished for, and if it were untoward or if she disliked the notion of it, she would flee. Her father would help her, he swore to it. With a vast amount of coinage or the connections her family possessed, she would make it away from the Targaryens should she wish it.
"Supper, Marna."
It was one of the servants of her father. Oft times she supped with her family at the very same table, but now and until the Royals arrived, mayhaps even with them here, she was confined to her chambers. Her father said it was for her protection, that was the very reason he gave when he stationed additional guards at her chambers' entrance.
"Thank you," Marna called back, her voice scratchy and her nervousness spilling into it.
By the Old Gods, she wished she were far and away from this place by the time the Targaryens arrived; she knew that wasn't to be.
The days went by slowly, and as the Royal retinue drew closer with the passing of every hour, Marna's nervousness did nought but grow whilst her father avoided seeing her. She heard from her siblings that he was stressed and pacing late into the night and that during mealtimes, he would barely touch his plate. Most, if not all of his time throughout the day would be spent in the crypts of Winterfell or the Godswood, where he would be deep in prayer.
"You're not nervous, are you?" Robb asked, poking her in the cheek while Arya examined the sword that their father had only recently gifted Marna.
Marna slapped Robb's hand away whilst her eyes watched her little sister so that she wasn't wounded by her own hands. "Of course I'm nervous. King Rhaegar, Queen Elia, their family — all of them will be in Winterfell within the next day, mayhaps even this evening, Robb. Father told you that they were coming for me, you know that."
"He hasn't said why. Arya couldn't get the truth out of him, I couldn't even as his heir… even mother's tried. Father won't say anything, we've never seen him so withdrawn and when I tried to get you out of here so that you might join us for meals, he threatened to seal me away in my chambers the same as he's done to you," Robb shook his head while he furrowed his brows, his visage was that of when he was deeply annoyed and bothered by something. "We'll never find out unless he wants to tell us what's bothering him. It's got something to do with you too."
"You're a genius," Marna deadpanned as she rolled her eyes, Robb's final words doing nothing short of sending her already racing heart into a sprint.
"I try."
"Don't," she responded instantly.
"Marna, do you think father will let me get one when I'm five and ten like you?" Arya asked, pulling away her two older siblings from their discussion and over to her as she struggled to hold the sword in her two slight arms.
Robb answered before Marna could. "If you're as small then as you are now, I doubt you'll ever hold anything other than that bow you keep stealing."
Marna slapped Robb's shoulder and smiled at Arya's downcast face. "Swords can come in many a size. I'm sure if you really wished for one, Father would have it made for you regardless of your size — you'll be bigger by then too. You remember how small I was when I was your age, don't you?"
"We're small. It's not fair. Robb and Theon are too big," Arya complained, the small girl levelling the sword at Robb 'threateningly' for all of a second or so before it fell to the ground with a clang, the tip of it scratching the surface of Marna's stone floor; she cared not. It could be resharpened, but Arya couldn't have her feet replaced if the next drop was catastrophic.
"Put it back whence you found out. There'll be a time later for swordplay. You're meant to come up here and lay with me so I can squeeze my stress away," Marna said teasingly as she opened her arms after pointing at the sheath of her sword. Arya sighed, pouted and finally when she saw that her older sister was unrelenting, stomped over to her. "Wonderful."
"Boring," Arya answered back.
Robb snorted. "Boring," he agreed, his hands raised in surrender when Marna cast a look at him, yet still he spoke further. "Arya's right, sister. You were far more fun before Sansa forced you into sewing and other ladylike behaviour."
"You're just saying that because you miss having a competent sparring partner. Theon's terrible and no other person will dare to knock you on your arse as you deserve," Marna said back to him, grinning when he laughed.
"Aye, I reckon you're right. I remember putting you on your arse a fair few times myself before Father said that we shouldn't spar anymore. If only you were a boy, then I'd be able to put you on the ground time and time again without father caring about it," Robb lamented as he leaned back, hogging nearly half of her bed as he spread himself out.
Marna poked at his ribs. "Scooch over. Arya and I want to lay back too."
Robb grunted and did as she asked, but even then, the room that he made was minimal. Still, it was enough for the two girls, slight as they were, and so they leaned back. Marna was on the right, Robb was on the left and between them lay their youngest sister. As Marna began to doze, her restless mind finally comfortable with the presence of her siblings, she couldn't help but make it turn sour for herself.
With the Royal Family soon upon them, for all she knew, this was the last time that she might rest with her family. If they wished to take her, for the sake of her family and their safety the more she thought of it, she would let them have her. Her father would be angry and withdrawn, her siblings would hate her or shed tears, and she too would cry, but it would mean their safety.
That meant more to her than anything else in the world. She would do her duty for them all, for their safety and happiness at the cost of her own. There would be no fleeing. She would have to do whatever she could, mayhaps even at the cost of her own life. If that was what it took, she would give it up gladly.
For she was a bastard, and what was the life of a single bastard when compared to House Stark?
"Don't go," Arya pleaded as she tried — and failed — to keep Marna back from the door, her small arms around Marna's waist offering nought but a token resistance as the older and larger girl moved to leave.
"I can't stay in here, Arya," Marna said softly as she took another step towards the exit. "If I do, Father or mayhaps the King himself will seek me out. Would you rather I stay stuck in my chambers, or would you rather I face them boldly and without cowardice?"
Arya huffed and when she responded, her voice was muffled on account of her face being pressed into Marna's back. "I would rather you leave… or we kill the King. He can't have you! You're meant to stay here with us. We're supposed to grow old together and fight away the boys that come to take us from each other, from Robb and from Father!"
Marna laughed and pulled Arya out from behind her so that the girl stood before her. "That's not going to happen if the King commands it — I know, I know. Think positively, Arya. We know not what he wants, nor his family, and until we do, these errant thoughts help nobody. You have to be careful with who you say such words around too, for speaking carelessly is dangerous," Marna lowered her voice and leaned in, her lips very near to Arya's right ear. "The King has his spider, and the spider has his spiderlings. Anything we say even as far north as we are might one day back its way back to him."
Arya folded her arms and scowled.
"I didn't say you were completely wrong, would that we could get away with it," Marna jested as she made towards the door once more, no further delay able to be taken. "Come on then. Father will soon send Jory or Alec for us, and neither of us wants that, do we?"
"No…" Arya pouted.
It was seconds later, and when the two sisters were just making their way out of the door when a horn sounded. The Royal family was spotted, such was the meaning of the horn, and that meant they could delay their descension to the courtyard below no longer. Marna urged Arya along the cold, dimly lit halls of their keep until the two were finally outside once more.
Each was dressed warmly, with thick cloaks and a thick dress beneath those cloaks. Their hair was done up nicely and to a standard that neither girl cared all that much for, and they wore finery the likes of which they had received countless times over for their nameday. All in all, they looked every bit the part of House Stark even if Marna was nought but Marna Snow.
Her father would tell her constantly and whensoever her parentage was brought up; 'You may not have my name, but you have my blood.'
It was never more apparent right then, when he lined up the entirety of his house for the King's arrival, for Marna was one place to the right of Robb. It was rare enough for her to be stood with them for such formal happenings and rarer still that any Nobleman or Lady would mind her any attention save for a few boys that wished to dip their candle. Father would send them away, always, and if not him, Robb would scare them off.
She was precious to them.
"You look lovely," Marna heard from Lady Catelyn.
When she turned to look at the older woman, she saw a wide smile on her face that was distinctly at odds with her father's saddened look and grim expression. Mayhaps even Lady Catelyn wasn't aware of what was happening, or if she was, maybe the one was happy with the developments that would soon make themselves known to the rest of the family. The woman was never horrible to her, there were times she was even caring and gentle… it was nothing horrible, Marna decided, if only judging it by that one metric.
"Thank you, my Lady," Marna returned finally, with a prompt from Robb and a squeeze of her hand from Sansa.
Lady Catelyn smiled politely at her, and with that, silence reigned supreme once more; as good a silence as could be expected on account of hounds and horses.
Gradually, the noise grew and the gates of Winterfell opened. What first greeted her was shock and awe, for the size of the Royal retinue, was far larger than she would have ever thought it to be. In truth, they looked more like a host or invasion force than a visit by the Royal Family.
There were banners of the Targaryen sigil, dozens upon dozens of them with riders all throughout the grouping waving them proudly. The riders that rode at the front wore armour that was likely incredibly expensive, for the helms were the visage of a dragon and the armour was adorned with wings as proud as the sigil they waved. Behind the first six men that rode forth with the Targaryen sigil, was a man that was immediately known to Marna despite her lack of knowledge of the man's appearance.
Rhaegar Targaryen. Mayhaps in another world, he would have been slain or booed as he arrived. Instead, there was silence. No child cheered or look in awe at him, no women swooned and no men grinned at the viewing of their King. He had taken much and more from them, from nearly every family, and yet he had the audacity to show himself to the crowd of Northerners dressed pompously in clothes and armour that were likely more expensive than anything any of the crowd would ever own. That wasn't to mention the large, beautiful and gaudy cabin that trailed behind him with dozens of guards surrounding it; four wore the white of the Kingsguard, betraying what lay within.
The King rode ever closer, his eyes locked on her father with an intensity that rattled her. His gaze was searching and forceful, and in his eyes, she could see the fire that burned within all of that family. Her father, for his part, did not break contact or bow until the man was through the final archway and only then did he — along with everybody else, Marna included — bend their knee to the man that had taken so much from them already.
"Your Grace," Marna heard her father say as the man dismounted with all the grace of a man half his age. He moved closer, flanked by two Kingsguard and within seconds, he stood before her father and the rest of her family.
He was so close that Marna could smell the southron perfumes that he used. It made her wrinkle her nose in distaste.
"Rise, Lord Stark," the King said, his voice hard, mayhaps even filled with the same degree of hatred they felt towards him. "Where is she?"
"Winterfell is you—" her father started, ever the man with formalities, but the King spoke over him, uninterested save for one very specific point.
"Where is she, Lord Stark?" the King demanded as he took one step closer to her father, the man now close enough to her father that their chests were nearly touching.
Her father swallowed and looked to the ground for nought but a moment, and then, he turned towards her and gave a small, nearly resigned gesture. "My daughter, Marna."
At those words, the King looked murderous, and yet, he spoke not another word as he moved past Lady Catelyn and Robb until he stood before her. She didn't look up and into the man's face, she kept her eyes on his shoes. His boots were beautifully made, as was everything else about him. The lower portion of his armour was intricately carved and with words made from rubies that she couldn't begin to und—
"Marna Snow?" the King asked, his voice far more gentle-sounding as he asked to verify her person.
"Yes, Your Grace," Marna answered immediately, her nervousness at the man before her making her nearly stumble on her words; she heard the carriage open and more feet approaching, immediately making her mind go astray.
Are they going to take me? Is it a group of soldiers coming to steal me from father?
"The King asked you a question," came the voice of another man, and before she could let out an answer, the King spoke.
"See to my family, Ser Jaime," said the King, his voice back to being as hard as steel and a moment later, a hand went to the underside of her chin, forcing her to look up and into the eyes of the man that she hated from nought but tales; he had killed and raped her aunt, his father had butchered two members of her family… how was it fair for the Old Gods to let him return to the North once more? "I had asked if I might have a moment of your time so that we might speak."
Again, his voice was soft and caring to her ears. Mayhaps it was all a cruel jest and he was playing a game on her. It would be cruel; it would be Targaryen.
"As you command, Your Grace," Marna responded automatically as his purple eyes met hers. Father often made her avoid eye contact with any and all strangers, for her eye colour, he had said, would draw attention. It wasn't until she saw the man before him that she had seen another similar pair to her own.
His face was pale, very pale, and the expression he wore on it was haunting. It was almost as if he had seen something ghastly. She didn't understand why that would be, save for her bastard status. Perhaps he hadn't meant to touch her so that he might avoid tainting himself.
"It wasn't an order," he finally said, blinking away watery eyes as he nodded towards her family's keep. He turned then so that he could speak to Lord Stark, his voice calm-sounding, and yet, all the angrier. "Our chambers, Lord Stark. We'll speak later."
At those final words, even Marna could hear the threat therein. She resolved there and then to do whatsoever she could so as to spare the Starks from anything that the King might try and subject them to.
"Jory, see the King and his family to their chambers," her Father said, bowing his head once more as the other man moved as commanded to escort the King. The King, for his part, seemed pleased that it would not be her father bringing him to his chambers. Mayhaps the hate that the pair of them felt toward one another was shared more so than first she had thought. If so, it was a wonder that her father had stayed Lord Stark in the first place. Lord Arryn had retained his Lordship too, though in his case, he had lost the title of Warden of the East.
"Come along, Marna," the King said to her when he realised the girl wasn't trailing after her, his voice soft and the smile on his face softer still as he looked at her.
Marna swallowed down her nervousness, clenched her fists and started after the man. She made sure to trail beyond him rather than attempt to stand at his side, but as they progressed, the King slowed his pace so that he might fall into stride with her whilst Jory moved ahead; the Kingsguard, perhaps Ser Jonothor Darry or Ser Loras Tyrell, went to his opposite side.
It must be tough for the King. Father killed Ser Arthur and two others of his Kingsguard, and yet, for the sake of peace, he invaded not through Moat Cailin. Instead, the King allowed her father to bend the knee for peace, and since that time, save for the Greyjoy Rebellion, peace had reigned.
"Aegon, Rhaenys, my Queen," the King said as they made to pass the carriage and the occupants who had only just left the confines of it. "With me. We have much and more to discuss before evening falls and the feast is had."
The Crown Prince and his sister-betrothed each nodded their head once. "Yes, Father," came free from the pairs' lips.
The Queen regarded Marna in silence for a few seconds — long enough to make the girl uneasy — before finally responding with her eyes still on Marna's person. "Finally," was her answer, her tone far lighter and more beautiful sounding than any other voice Marna had ever heard.
Marna swallowed as the three other Royals fell in line behind them. "King Rhaegar? Would you like for me to leave while you speak with your family, Your Grace?"
Instantly, the King vehemently shook his head. "No," he said as soon as she had finished speaking. "I would like very much for you to join us for this conversation… I trust Lord Stark, has told you why we wish to speak?"
She shook her head, and the two other younger folk such as herself regarded her curiously, disregarding their parents. "No, Your Grace."
Quickly, a look filled with disdain fell on the King's face. It was so intense and intimidating despite the man's average build that Marna nearly stepped back so as to escape the ire-filled look. She would have done so too, had it not been for the delicate hand that fell on his shoulder as they continued their journey, the touch nought but a fleeting caress.
"All will be right, finally, my love," the Queen said so as to calm the King before her eyes and attention turned back to Marna. "The King isn't cross with you, child. His anger is directed at yo— Lord Stark, and rightly so. We know by now that the man must be extremely dear to you, and yet, his actions were wrong, if honourable in his own view."
The Crown Prince huffed. "Can't we hurry? All of this anticipation is horrible. Father hasn't told Rhaenys or I a word as to what this journey's for, nor why we're speaking with… with Lady Snow."
The King stopped in his steps and Marna mirrored his action lest she runs into his back. He turned on the heels of his feet and his cold gaze went over the top of Marna and to the boy behind her, his son. "You'll keep quiet and not address Marna until we're in the privacy of the quarters that Stark has provided. If I hear another word of complaint from your lips or that of Rhaenys', you'll be invited to no talks or the feast proper. Least of all the news that is soon to drop throughout the entirety of our realms. Do you understand, both of you?"
Princess Rhaenys with her dark hair, and darker, purple eyes smiled beautifully at the King. "Yes, Father."
The Prince, Aegon, nodded once as his tongue puffed out his upper lip in irritation. "Your word is law, Father."
Had anybody else shown such disrespect to the King, especially where others such as Jory or the two guards they had just passed could witness, they would have found themselves in trouble. As it was, the King shook his head and allowed his Queen to whisper soothing words into his ear. She seemed to keep the peace far more than Marna would have thought… the Crown Prince was lucky to have her on his side.
"We're 'ere, Yer Grace," Jory said, his Northern accent thicker than any other time Marna had heard him speak; she would have laughed had they not been in the presence of the Royal Family.
The King nodded once and pushed open the door, the Queen followed, and so too did the rest of their group of five. Marna took one last fleeting look as Jory idled nearby, his steps not immediately taking him away from the Royals and by extension herself. His look was conflicted as if he too wished to remove her from their presence, and yet, both knew that he could not.
Marna nodded at him, her lips ever so slightly upwards so that he would know it was fine, and with a sorrowful smile back at the girl, he departed. With him gone, Marna finally entered completely into the room, whereupon her doing so the door was immediately closed — and barred — by the Crown Prince upon his Father's orders.
"Please, take a seat," the King said as he gestured to one of the many nearby chairs. "Lord Stark failed to tell you even a word as to why we've come so far. Is that the truth?"
She nodded, suddenly nervous and fidgety as she realised all four Royal pairs of eyes were nought but on her as she said a few feet from them. The King was seated close with the Queen upon his lap, the pair of them were looking at her as if they were attempting to tame a wild beast; their eyes were nervous and pleading, happy and sorrowful, but in the depths of the King's eyes that were so much like her own, she could see unbridled rage. His two children were still silent in their curiosity since their last scolding, but their eyes were still focused solely on her; it was the Princess, Rhaenys, that seemed more interested, more curious.
"You will have words with him later, Rhaegar," the Queen said, her hands wrapped around the man's upper body as she pressed a sweet kiss against his left cheek. "Until that time comes, enjoy the gift you never realised you had."
The King nodded, swallowed, and his eyes went back to Marna. "What I say will not leave the room until my talks with Lord Stark in the evening are concluded — Aegon, Rhaenys, Marna, I'll have you swear it."
Within seconds, all three of the younger persons in the room did just that.
"Marna," the King began as he leaned forward as far as he could with the Queen in his lap. He spoke her voice more sourly this time, the earlier softness and near-affectionate tone somewhat lessened. "Lord Stark never told you the truth of your parentage. He told you not the reason we've come. Simply put, it's for you. When this trip is concluded and we return south in the coming days, perhaps even on the morrow, you will join us."
Marna made to speak, her mouth fell open, but before she could do so she remembered herself and snapped her mouth back so that it was shut. She would not interrupt the King even if that was the very last thing she wished to do. As she had said, whatsoever the Starks needed of some poor bastard girl so that they would be safe, she would see it through. It was the least she could do for them after they had clothed, educated and fed her for ten and five years.
"Wouldn't you like to know why rather than sit in silence, sweet girl?" the Queen asked as she leaned forward, her voice as enchanting as first she had heard it and the smile on her face just as perfect; the woman was truly a Queen.
Mayhaps she's lying to you. Everything they say might be a lie. Don't forget what Father and all of the others have said about House Targaryen.
"If you deem me worthy to know, yes, Your Grace," Marna responded politely, her words flowing automatically lest she forgets herself.
The Queen tapped the King, her eyes never once leaving Marna, and so the King spoke again. His voice was strong even if his face seemed to say that he struggled as he began to speak.
"You aren't a bastard anymore than your name is Marna," the King said as he shook his head and pointed to her hair. "Do you know who Lord Varys is?"
Hesitatingly, Marna — she would always be Marna no matter what he said — nodded. "He's your spymaster, Your Grace."
The King smiled. "He is," he said, confirming what she already knew as he swallowed again and rubbed at his eyes. "It was thanks to him that we learned about you. You were late one day when you were meant to dye the colour of your hair, and upon further songs being sung it was he that learned of your eyes — they're the same as mine own, the same as Aegon's and Rhaenys'."
Rhaenys, as the King spoke of her, seemed to understand what he was implying and she gasped. One hand immediately went to cover her mouth as she fell back and into the side of her brother. He looked confused, his brows were furrowed and still, he held the Princess close.
Marna was with him; the King needed to speak clearly rather than point out her physical traits.
The Queen seemed to pick up on that and with a tap on his shoulder, she said as much. "Speak plainly, husband. Can't you see the poor thing's confused and nervous? She thinks the King and his family might do something untoward to her. You haven't heard much about us that's very good, have you, my sweet?"
At the Queen's words, Marna felt her cheeks flush, for the woman had guessed exactly how she felt. Much and more she had heard about the Targaryens, and very little, if any at all, had been pleasant. That the woman had said as much with the entirety of her family present did little to ease Marna's fears.
The King, thankfully, saved her from having to answer. "Lord Stark is not your father, nor is any whore or tavern wench your mother," he swallowed and rubbed at his eyes once more before, finally, dropping a revelation that Marna instantly didn't believe. "You have my hair and eyes for nought but one reason — you are my daughter. Lord Stark stole you from me, and the Gods stole your mother from our family."
Marna shook her head but didn't speak. She had his hair and that of the Prince's, that was true, and so too did they all share their eyes save for the Queen, but that was nought but two traits that they had in common. The Targaryens weren't the only family with those traits either, so perhaps her Father ha—
"You are," the King said again. "You were born to me and the second woman that I loved as equally as the first. Lyanna Stark. Your name is not Marna Snow, but Visenya Targaryen. All of these years, Stark has kept you hidden from me. It was a mummer's farce for ten and five years. For all of them, he's had you kept from your family and forced you into the life of a bastard girl. There will be much and more he owes for doing so."
"No!" Marna exclaimed with her eyes wide at her outburst; she saw nought the expressions that the King's children wore, Marna only saw the sad expression on the Queen's face and the rage, finally released in all of its fury, on the King's face. "Please, Your Grace. Please don't punish my Father. He's a ki—"
The King's eyes flashed and finally, he stood up from his seat and made the Queen do the same lest she fell. "You will not call that man Father ever again, Visenya," he seemed to relax for a moment when that name was said, but he continued all the same after that fleeting moment. "You are Visenya Targaryen, the youngest of my three children and a Princess of the realm. Much and more will you learn as we return to whence we belong, but if I could have one matter be made abundantly clear, 'tis that the Starks of Winterfell have never been your siblings or parents. Eddard Stark is a thief and nought but your Uncle and his children, unknowing accomplices and cousins. You should have been raised alongside your siblings."
Marna made to speak again, but before she could do so, two arms encircled her and the warmth of a body pressing against her own shocked her into silence.
"Little sister," it was the voice of Princess Rhaenys as she held Marna tight, her voice thick with emotion and a growing wetness pooling atop her head. "Father has told us that you were always meant to be. You were meant to be with us, you were meant to be the…" Rhaenys trailed off and sniffled, falling into silence as she began to weep while holding her.
Truthfully, Marna didn't know how to react. She wished to push the girl away, but for many reasons, she could not. All that she could do while the Prince looked at her, his face as conflicted as the King's, was to speak to the latter man.
"Your Grace, I… there's been a mistake," she tried, but he shook his head.
"No, sweet girl, there has not. You are my daughter, these are your siblings, and your place in the world is that of a Princess," he finally closed in on her, and in doing so, Marna closed her eyes; she didn't wish to see him, the others or to hear their words any longer, for as they spoke and the intensity of their emotions… she began to believe them. "I've dreamt of you, Visenya. You were always meant to be, and unknowingly for years as they've passed, you were here and the dreams knew all along. We'll finally be whole again."
With that, he hugged her, and tears freely fell from the Targaryens as the Queen and finally, the Prince joined in. Marna wasn't free of their sadness, affection and weeping for nearly half an hour, and when that time finally came, there was more that they wished to speak about.
Had she known this is how the evening would have gone… fleeing might not have been far from what she had done, and yet, even now, she knew that would mean the Starks were condemned. If only for them, she would play the part of 'Visenya Targaryen'. If it meant her Father, her siblings and the North were safe, she would play her part in this mummer's farce.
Chapter 2: The Journey 'Home'
Notes:
This story is written for two people very close to me - you know who you are - and I thank them so much for their continued friendship and assistance. I'm unsure of the update schedule for this fic, I'll be gone before too long, but I hope to continue to write and post whensoever I can find the time to do so.
Marna = Female Jon Snow, the other characters should be self-evident. Thank you and have a wonderful day!
(If you're interested in Beta'ing for this fic, I would greatly appreciate it as I've recently lost two of my Betas to IRL matters.)
Feel free to join my Discord for updates, giveaways (for those who actively chat), early access and information, link on my profile. Without any more preamble from me, I hope you enjoy the story!
Chapter Text
Marna — as she refused to recognise herself as Visenya despite the wishes of the Targaryens — was far from pleased when she found out about the change of plans. King Rhaegar and his Queen, Elia, agreed as soon as they 'confirmed' her lineage, that it was necessary for them to return to the South the very next day. They had spoken at length with her and the two Targaryen children, so much so that all of them, Marna included, caught not an ounce of sleep through the dead quiet of the night.
They wished to learn about her, to converse with her, and very simply, to be near to her person. Not one of the four wished to let her out of their sight, and it was decided that evening that she would remain with, at the very least, one member of House Targaryen at all times… it was unnerving.
Marna was unsure of whether or not that was due to nervousness that she might flee or be stolen away, but what could she say? The King wished not to heed her words that she was a Stark, and should she speak any more about that family, her family, she feared what he might do to punish them for the offence of stealing her away from her supposed rightful family and 'poisoning' her opinion of House Targaryen.
"Visenya," the King said as he hesitated at the door to Rhaenys' temporary chambers. "We leave at the start of the evening, our destination, King's Landing. There is much and more I wish to say to you, to tell you, to do with you… I know I have said the words many a time by now, and I hope you hold it not against me — I love you, my daughter. I am so very glad to have you home, where you belong."
Elia, who had remained silent as the King spoke, smiled at Marna. "You are kind-hearted and thoughtful to urge mercy for the Starks. Lord Eddard erred grievously and broke trust beyond the ability to repair, but finally, we have found you, sweet girl," she bolted towards Visenya, her eyes watery, and her slight form pattering across the floor until she was once more by Marna's side.
Immediately, Elia's arms wound themselves around Visenya's equally as lithe build. Rhaenys, ever the emotional girl that Marna had come to know in so short a time, joined the embrace happily, and with a cooing sound.
"I love you, baby sister," Rhaenys said into her ear, the girl's voice soft with a lilt that Marna couldn't place.
All that she knew for certain after so long a time with the Targaryens, was that they did so love their physical tokens of affection. Aegon had been the most conservative, and he'd seemed awkward too, but he kept shooting small smiles her way, amongst other looks that made her feel… uncomfortable. She was no fool, she knew that the Targaryens married brother to sister; she would not, regardless of their wishes.
Elia pulled back, one hand cupped Marna's cheek and the other went to her hair with a petting motion as the woman looked at her with the utmost adoration and affection in her eyes. "Daughter," the Queen said. "I will treat you as if you came to this world of my womb — all that you need, want or anything that troubles you, no matter how trivial it might be, come to me, Visenya. There's so much to make up for."
"She'll have me too, mother," Rhaenys said as she pressed herself forcefully into Marna's other side, the girl's stronger, larger build far less sensitive and far more eager than the Queen had been.
"She'll have us all," Elia said softly before she pressed a kiss to Marna's forehead and withdrew across the room, to where the King stood with a look of contented peace.
"Goodnight, daughters," the King said, the latter of the two words sounding as if he was trying it out before he shook his head, a gleeful, yet sorrowful look on his face; it made for a queer combination even as he spoke again. "Goodnight, Rhaenys, and goodnight to you too, Visenya. My love to you both."
Elia echoed the words of parting, her voice far softer and matronly. It caused a sensation through Marna that she wasn't quite certain of. Lady Catelyn had never been horrible to her, but it went without saying that the woman had never quite acted the part of a motherly figure. She had done as good, mayhaps even better than most other women would when their man returned with a bastard in his arms. That alone was more than she could have ever dared to ask Lady Catelyn for.
As the door closed, Marna blinked and made to stand, her mind intent on taking her out of Rhaenys' chambers… until the older and stronger girl stopped her with nought but a hand on her shoulder.
"Where are you headed, 'Senya?" Rhaenys asked, her eyes intent on forcing contact with Marna's just as much as she was intent on staying by her side and in physical contact.
It was unnerving.
Marna swallowed, opened her mouth to speak, and then sat back whence she had been but a moment ago; on Rhaenys' temporary bed. "I forgot that I was meant to stay the night with you, Princess."
Rhaenys face was a mixture of disgust and a scowl at Marna's lattermost word. "Sister," the older girl stressed, her voice completely serious as her eyes — the very same shade that Marna's were — bore into Marna's. "You need not call father, King Rhaegar or our mother, Queen Elia. Aegon is Aegon, and I, Rhaenys or Sister."
"As you say," Marna deferred, forcing a smile despite the strangeness of the Princess's words.
"As you say…?" Rhaenys tried, a brow raised and a teasing expression on her face as she scooched backwards, up the bed, and pulled Marna up along with her.
For her part, Marna allowed the older girl to handle her. She was gentle, gentler than earlier at the very least, and there was little she could do to stop the girl. Not with two members of the Kingsguard outside of the door should she try and leave or lest she says something impolite.
"As you say, Rhaenys," Marna answered Rhaenys with a bow of her head as her eyes sought out the fireplace; anything to look away from the uncomfortable girl at her side. 'Would you like it that I should start a fire, Rhaenys?"
"Please," Rhaenys said with a scoff, pulling Marna closer at the same time she pulled the covers up and over their bodies. "I seldom get cold, for my body runs hot. If the weather grew too fierce in the night, I would not trouble my baby sister to light a fire — there are servants, and it is they that will do the work whilst you and I rest."
"We've not done anything too strenuous today," Marna said with a shrug.
"And we won't, not until we return home to King's Landing. There, you will attend the very same lessons that Aegon and I have had since we were old enough to start. Father will make you train with the sword, spear or mayhaps even the bow as well. That will make for a sight to see, I think," Rhaenys said as she made herself comfortable.
Unfortunately for Marna, Rhaenys' comfort was very intrusive to her own. The girl twisted their legs under the sheets, threw an arm over her centre, and pressed her front to Marna's back. They were so wrapped together that Marna half felt she had been taken captive; it wasn't the first time such a feeling had made itself known throughout the day either. They had said she would return to King's Landing with them. Not once had they asked for her opinion or what she thought, for even she knew that whatsoever she said would not matter to them.
She would be in the South regardless of her own wants and desires. Forevermore, lest something happened that changed her circumstances, she would be called Visenya and they would do whatsoever they could to make her seem the part of a girl that never was.
Marna exhaled softly, Rhaenys' breathing still energetic and frequent as her breath splashed across the slightness of Marna's neck. The other girl would not fall into the realm of sleep for quite some time, she was the most eager of the four Targaryens and that alone was likely a contributing factor to her being the one that was chosen to watch over Marna whilst the others slept.
"I know you mean to sleep, baby sister," Rhaenys said softly as the hand that had been under their pillows moved up so that it could revel in Marna's hair. "I mean not to disturb you or force myself upon you, but… selfish as it is to say, I need to. Father has spoken so very oft about how you were meant to be. We had heard so many tales of what he had hoped would come to fruition, about how we were meant to be some type of second coming of sorts. Aegon and I thought him mad, and yet, here you are. It is hard to believe and my mind has not stopped racing since the revelation only the prior evening."
At those words, Marna swallowed. What could she say back to the Princess? That she was happy for her that King Rhaegar was right in her existence? That all of his hopes and tales and visions would come true?
She swallowed. "I hope I don't disappoint you or the others," was what she settled with.
When Rhaenys' arms tightened around her, she thought that her words had been wrong.
"Never worry that you'll disappoint us, baby sister," Rhaenys said at the same time a feeling of creeping wetness and a catch in her words alerted Marna that the older girl was, once again, letting her emotions get the best of her; she hated that her own throat tightened and that her mind turned even more conflicted than it had already been. "You're finally where you belong, and we'll never let you leave again."
I had thought as much, Marna thought, resigned.
If she had thought she would ever be free to live her life and do as she pleased from the moment the Targaryens had arrived, that one sentence confirmed the reality of her situation. She was theirs, and the Starks would rely on her to quell and ease the retribution that they would try and enact upon them.
When Marna woke, it was to a degree of heat and feeling of pressure upon her that she had never felt before — Arya had never radiated heat, nor had the small girl weighed even half as much as Rhaenys did. That was the culprit behind those feelings too, for Rhaenys, the Princess of the Realm and one of the most beautiful women in the eyes of men, was wild-looking and snoring upon Marna's slighter build. She had told the truth the previous night as well, for the girl was giving off so much heat that it simply had to be unnatural.
She was a Targaryen, after all, and who else but them would have an internal fire to keep them warm in the extreme cold?
Marna tried to pull herself away from Rhaenys' body, but she failed to do so. The other girl's grip around her torso and the manner in which she had entangled their legs made for an impossible situation. In other words and simply put, Marna was trapped until Rhaenys woke from her slumber.
That lasted for nearly another half an hour, a half an hour with which Marna was left looking up and at the ceiling, and when that time was up, Rhaenys rose not of her own volition.
One set of knocks, soft and without an announcement, came from the door nought but seconds before it was opened equally as softly. Marna needn't guess who lay behind those actions, for the person therein made herself known and strode into the room with all of the confidence of her station; she cooed and stopped her walking for seconds when she took in the sight of the two girl's wrapped together as one in the bed.
"There is no amount I wouldn't pay to have this vision captured on a portrait or tapestry," Elia said with a shake of her head before she moved to Rhaenys' bedside, whereupon doing so, she sat down and brushed the girl's hair from her eyes with one hand and did the very same action — sans the eyes portion — to Marna. "Rise, Rhaenys, and a beautiful morning to you, Visenya."
Elia's voice cracked when she spoke Marna's second name. It was almost as if the previous day and night had meant nothing, and the woman was intent on allowing her sadness and contempt to shine through once more.
Rhaenys groaned, pulling Elia's face back into a smile and Marna's thoughts away from that previous evening.
"She is always late to rise," Elia said softly as she smiled down at Marna, a look of affection and adoration on her face that was almost blinding… until a smirk and look of silliness overrode those emotions. "My daughter she may be, but it matters not, for whoever causes her to rise too early in the morn is always the target of her ire for the duration of the day."
At that, Marna smiled. It was mayhaps the first genuine one she had given, and it was of no surprise that it came from the Queen. Her words in regards to Rhaenys reminded her of Arya and how angry she could become should somebody wake her before she was ready. Mayhaps the Targaryens weren't entirely evil and incomparable to other people.
"Do yo— we still mean to leave this evening, Que— Elia?" Marna asked, her words stumbling over one another as many a correction need be made.
The Queen would have to settle for Elia too, for 'mother' as she wished to be called was still too difficult a word to say for Marna. She had never come to know the affection or love of such a person, and the only two she had known that could be her mother, were deceased regardless of the person she believed; King Rhaegar, or her Father.
"We do," Elia said with a simple nod as she continued to pet Marna's long, silverish hair. The last vestiges of dye would soon be stripped, and when her hair was true and silver as they wished to be, gone would be Marna and in her place, the girl that they claimed her to be.
It was an odd feeling, odd beyond belief, and saddening. She wished to remain in the North with the Starks. The poison of the South was well known to her, the dangers present betwixt the Targaryens and the other families were too many, and finally, no Stark ever did well below the Neck.
All can agree on the lattermost fact.
"You needn't worry, sweet girl. Your father has brought a force so large some might call it an army, and more will soon be joining us as we march to King's Landing. Many more, should he have his wish, and the first of them will come from White Harbor. There's to be a tourney in your honour," Elia paused for a breath as she smiled again, just as beautiful, caring and sweet-looking as every look she gave, but her latter words weren't to be.
"Mama," Rhaenys groaned, the one word taking nearly ten seconds until it was said and done. "I wanted to sleep in. Visenya's warm and comfortable, and far softer than Aegon… a few more hours? Please, mama?"
Elia laughed and gently pushed Rhaenys off of Marna, and after doing so, she tutted at her eldest child with a playful glint in her eyes. "If your father and I let you decide, Visenya would remain in the bed until she had her twentieth nameday. You must rise the same as she must, for we mean to leave this very day. Your father wishes to return home so that he can make an announcement for all of the Realm to hear — Visenya is here, she is ours, and we are back home where we belong."
Immediately, Rhaenys was out of bed, the sheets — plentiful as they were — found themselves tossed aside to the fur-covered floor and the older of the two Princesses was at her luggage.
Marna looked at the other girl strangely. She had only just risen, and yet, she had found a store of energy large enough to move so quickly and so precisely. Rhaenys was odd, but that was in hand with the thoughts of all in regard to House Targaryen.
"Rhaenys misses the sun and sea," Elia said, offering up an explanation as she noticed Marna's expression. "I don't believe you've ever gone to the South, have you, Visenya? We spoke not of any travels you might have had the previous evening, forgive me. What point is the furthest you've travelled?"
"South, or overall… Elia?" Visenya asked, catching herself before the start of 'Your Grace' exited her lips; it was troublesome to correct. All of her life she had learned how to call a King and Queen or their children, and now, those rules were set aside, for she was claimed as their family.
Elia's smile, if such a thing was possible, grew when Marna failed to make any sort of mistake. "In general, child. Have you gazed upon the Wall? Have you set your eyes upon the sea or witnessed the bogs of the Neck first-hand?"
At every question, Visenya shook her head, and upon seeing Elia's look of urging, she gestured about the room with a fond look upon her face. "I have seen Winterfell and Winter town, the hills and the forest, the Godswood and the small pools of water by it."
Rhaenys spoke before Elia could. "You've never left the area around Winterfell?" she asked, her voice and expression one of disbelief even as she held up a myriad of dresses betwixt her two arms.
"Lord Stark," Marna started, her words slow and carefully chosen lest she called the man 'father' before the two Targaryen women. "He had said it would be dangerous outside of the surrounding area, and only with guards was I allowed to have those viewings lest a kidnapper or raper try and take me."
Elia and Rhaenys shared a glance that Visenya wasn't able to decipher. She wasn't certain that she wished to even if she had been able to do so. Whatsoever they thought of Lord Stark, of all of the Starks, would be at odds with her own opinions. She had been the one to live with them, eat with them, learn with them and spend the entirety of her life up until the point they had claimed her, with them; their opinions were piecemeal in comparison to her own.
There was silence for a time and trepidation between the three women as they looked at one another. It was clear to Marna by Rhaenys' face alone that she wished to say something, it was clearer still when she opened her mouth a few times only to close it. Finally, and after what felt like an age had come and gone, Elia swallowed audibly and spoke.
"It matters not what you have seen, and what you haven't. With us, Visenya, you'll have your first view of the sea and your first of the Neck," Elia tapped the younger girl's neck as she said that, her atypical smile on her face and one that matched forming on Marna's face thanks to the woman's joyous nature. "Should you wish it, I'll take you to Dorne and introduce you to the rest of our family."
"Uncle Doran would love her," Rhaenys said as she flung onto the bed a number of dresses before she moved to yet another luggage case; one filled with jewellery, Marna thought.
I hope she doesn't intend for me to wear any number of those silken gowns, Marna said inwardly as she spied them in the brief lull of conversation. They're all too slight and would leave little to the imagination. I prefer my body hidden from the gazes of men.
"Oberyn would love her, and his daughters would be set on teaching and meeting our Visenya," Elia said as her face lit up, likely at the very words she was speaking as she envisioned them within her mind.
On and on that conversation persisted. Neither of the women seemed to wish to speak about her father — Lord Stark as they called him — or how he had kept her near and around Winterfell. Instead, and so that they might plan as Rhaenys moved around and Elia stayed in contact with Marna, they spoke about Dorne.
Marna learned about the communal pools — called Water Gardens — where all might escape the heat of the day, she learned about their fashion and cuisine, their love for all and lax attitude in regards to the rest of Westeros, and finally, their passion. Elia had said that no person was half as passionate as the least passionate person throughout all of Dorne.
There was little Marna could argue, for, before they had arrived, she had never so much as seen a Dornishman. The only thing that Marna knew with absolute certainty, was that she would be avoiding the Water Gardens of Sunspear. It mattered not if they were kept to them for the duration of any visit she took, she would never bathe with others around. Her modesty meant far more to her than that.
"I think I've got it," Rhaenys finally said, the silence save for her movement and muttering finally finished as she gestured for Elia and Marna each to come to where she stood.
Elia stood, and rather than move immediately, she waited with one arm outstretched for Marna. The girl could do little else other than swing her legs off from the mattress and rise, taking the Queen's arm and joining to the woman's side as she marched them over to her daughter, where they saw what Rhaenys wished for them to see.
It was a dress, baby blue in colour and more modest than most that Rhaenys had withdrawn. It was trimmed in a silver-type material, there was a broach amongst other jewellery set atop it and fashionable boots by any standard on the ground before it. In Marna's mind, the clothing before her was the fanciest she had ever seen. It would come as no surprise to the girl if she learned that it cost more than any Smallfolk made in one year's time.
Elia made a noise of thought as she regarded all that Rhaenys had laid out, and something else. When Marna turned to look at the woman to see her expression, she swallowed; the Queen was dividing her attention between the finery and Marna's body.
"I could never imp—" Marna started, hoping that she might talk her way out of dressing in the clothing that Rhaenys had provided.
"You'll never impose upon us, sweet girl," Elia said as she pulled the girl tighter against her, her left hand — the further of the two from Marna — came over to swipe errant strands of hair from when she had stood up back, back to their place behind her ear. "We'll remove the last remnants of dye from your hair, and when you leave, you'll leave as a Princess."
If Marna had hoped to keep her hair dyed the near-black colour that it had been under her father's supervision, she should have known better. Mayhaps there was something to be said about letting your natural shade shine through for the world to see. It would certainly be far less tedious.
"Is there anything else that would see me covered more so than that?" Marna asked as she pulled a face at the dress. "I mean not to disrespect you, Rhaenys, nor you… Elia. I'm used to clothes that show not an ounce of my skin, and so to have so much available for others to see is unnerving."
"In the South, such clothing is scarce, for the heat of the day is far too unbearable under layers of fur or heavy garments. You'll come to see that as soon as make it to the Southern edge of the Riverlands," Rhaenys said, her face devoid of any negative emotions at Marna's words or look.
Elia nodded at Rhaenys' words. "She's right, child. In the North, it is wise to dress so that the cold can't take root and turn you ill. In the South, especially Dorne, the opposite is true — dress too warm or heavy, and the sun will turn you sick," the Queen smiled at her as one might do to placate another. "We can have a second layer to further conceal you should you wish it so. Your comfort matters more to us than anything else, least of all fashion."
"Thank you," Marna said quietly, a short-lasting smile on her face as the door to her chambers opened once more, this time, a group of servants with a tub and buckets of hot water making their entrance. They weren't around long, not with Elia sending them away as soon as the tub was filled and an order for more hot water to be left at the door was given.
Rhaenys clapped giddily and moved towards Marna and the Queen. Her feet, bare as they were, were so loud that even walking atop the pelts of animals as she was, noises were made. "Finally!" the Princess exclaimed.
"Finally?" Marna parroted, an odd sense in her mind that relayed just what the bath was for; she had a feeling she wasn't going to be going about the process herself. Not this time.
"What Rhaenys means," Elia prefaced with a look of a warning shot to her daughter before the older woman turned her attention back to Marna with a soft look on her face; it was as constant a presence on the woman's face as the Heart Tree was in a Godswood. "Is that we have wanted to see your natural looks since first we laid eyes on you, Visenya. Your beauty despite the unnatural colour of your hair is beyond what most can dare compete with."
Slowly, Marna nodded in understanding. "Thank you, yo— Elia," she replied, flustered at the genuine look on the older woman's face and the matching one on Rhaenys'; there was something else in th— her sister's eyes too, a look that was unreadable.
"It'll be natural in time, sweet girl," Elia said, unphased by Marna's slip-up.
Silence fell when the older woman was finished. The room, large as it was, began to fill with a thin layer of mist as the trio looked betwixt one another. Marna shifted, her eyes drawn to the bath where the water was gradually cooling. When the silence was broken, finally, it was by Marna's own voice.
"When I'm finished, should I call out to the two of you? Will you be by the door?" she asked, swallowing and wringing her hands when neither woman made to move.
Again, as from earlier, there was a silent look shared between mother and daughter. Marna could tell there was much and more that was shared in that one, meaningful look, though she couldn't begin to contemplate just what that was.
"We'd like to clean your hair for you," Elia said, her voice soothing and her touch upon Marna's shoulder fleeting as if it were nought but the wind. "Would you allow us that pleasure? Since Rhaenys' birth, I've taken care of her hair and washed it for her… selfish as I am, I'd like to do the same with you, especially with the importance of this first time."
Marna remained silent as she thought about how best to answer the Queen. She could deny the woman her desires, and yet, if she did so, Marna was aware that she could order it so. There was a lingering doubt in her that said the Queen was too kind, that she wouldn't do so and that her father was wrong about Elia above all of the others; it was traitorous to all that she had heard, but it was growing with haste as Marna came to know the Queen.
She cleared her throat, and in response, the eyes of the other two women fell back onto her. It was unnerving to see her very own eyes staring at her with a cocktail of emotions swirling around within them.
"May I… May I stay dressed, at least partially so?" Marna asked as she pulled on errant strands of her hair and nodded towards the bath.
Elia nodded as soon as the last word was free from Marna's mouth. "You could stay as you are now if you wished it — your flesh is your own, I need not see it, nor does any other person. If they do, should they do so without your permission, you need only utter a word to me and we'll see the problem resolved," the older woman pressed a kiss to Marna's head and gestured with her head for Rhaenys to come to them. The girl did so immediately and sought out Marna's other side as they moved towards the bath. "Thank you for indulging me, sweet 'Senya."
Marna could do nought but smile at Elia's words, and when the time came for the Queen and Princess to rid her hair of the dye she had used for so long, she had never felt so cared for in such a physical way, ever before. They were gentle, they spoke in whisper-like coos and complimented her more than any person had ever done before.
Elia's last words before she left for Marna to continue alone, would stick with her for quite some time.
"When next I see you, I'll see Visenya Targaryen — I wish above all else that your mother could have seen you as we will."
Marna wished the same.
"Where is she?" Aegon, the Crown Prince's voice asked loudly as Marna walked alongside the Queen and the Princess.
There would be no feast or celebrations, the trip would be of no true duration. They had found her, they had confirmed her lineage, and they had claimed her; she felt the part of a Wildling woman, and the Targaryens, the man that had stolen her.
"They'll be at a loss for words," Elia whispered into her ear, the woman's voice giddy and conspiring whilst her visage was one of joy and contentment.
Rhaenys tightened the grip she had on Marna's left hand, and finally, the trio turned the last corner, the Royal Caravan finally coming into their vision. The King and Prince were at the front of it, atop beautiful, armoured steeds and with three men of the Kingsguard in the immediate area.
When the presence of the three women was revealed, their own Kingsguard and other guards trailing behind them, Aegon went silent. The King swallowed as she drew closer, not stopping once as she moved with the two Targaryen women. It was when she was nought but a dozen or so feet away that she could see him blinking rapidly, and with another few steps, he raised the back of his hand so that he could wipe at his eyes; first the left, and then the right.
Aegon, all the whilst the King looked at her in awe, sorrow, and utter joy, was silent. There was nary an emotion on the boy's face, short of shock. He lacked the wetness in his eyes or the happiness on his face that the King had, but as Elia had said — and the woman seemed to know far more than just how her family would react — the two men were silent.
That dragged on until, after nearly a minute of silence, the King slipped off from his horse with impressive fluidity and made his way over to her. In response to his doing so, Marna looked down, her eyes downcast at the ground and the only proof that he continued towards her was the clanking of the armour he was dressed in. It stopped at the same time his mailed boots came into vision, and slowly, as he had done when first they met, one hand grasped her chin so that he could raise her face. When he did so, it was with the utmost care.
"You look as your mother did — as we picture you might when we spoke of the daughter we would make," The King said, swallowing many a time and with a voice filled with emotion. "Our thoughts did little to credit how perfect you would be… welcome home, Visenya."
He hugged her when he finished speaking. She was pressed — in Rhaenys' dress — against the man's armour. All of the decor, the rubies, the print; all of it on his armour did little to discomfort her as he held her in his arms. He was strong, and as a King, there was little safer a place she could ever be.
Mayhaps my father, he truly is, Marna pondered inwardly. Father never hugged me so when I was younger. When he did, it was only when he was deep in his cups or on nights when he desperately missed Aunt Lyanna or Nuncle Benjen. Mother…
"I apologise," the King said as he finally drew back, his arms remaining on her. "You must forgive an old man. We sometimes forget ourselves," he finished with a chuckle, forced as it was, as he finally stepped back.
Not once did his eyes leave her. It was much the same as Elia and Rhaenys when first they entered after she had bathed and dressed.
"You're far from old, my love," Elia said, ending the moment and slotting into the man's side as she regarded Marna with all the love that she had ever shown the girl. "Our Visenya is beautiful, truly. I can picture it now how all of the Lordlings will pine for her attention — mayhaps we'll need to find her a dozen Sworn Shields or more to fight them off."
"I'll do it," Aegon said, the boy finally speaking as his horse moved around impatiently or nervously.
Rhaenys, now back at Marna's side, snorted. "It is I that will keep Visenya away from the grasp of any that would take her from us after we've finally found her," she turned to look at Marna. 'You'll stay with me for a time, won't you? We could do whatsoever we'd like in my chambers."
The King cleared his throat, and immediately, silence fell as all of the heads of House Targaryen — and Marna — turned to look at him.
"You will have all the time so wish to and more in the wagon. I have spoken with Lord Stark, and terms have been made, and so now, we leave" the King regarded Visenya then, his eyes pointedly on her before he continued speaking. "We return South, to King's Landing, and we shan't be alone."
Elia stood up as tall as she could and pressed a kiss against the stubble of Rhaegar's right cheek. "I wish you would ride with us."
"As do I, my love," Rhaegar said before he stole a kiss from the woman's lips. "I ride at the front as I always have and always must. I intend to make up for my absence when we make camp. Nearly six and ten years it's been since our Visenya was taken, and so there is much time that must be made up for."
"I've already started," Rhaenys said, her voice surprisingly challenge-filled… until Marna noticed it was directed at Aegon rather than the King.
The King must have noticed too, but rather than scold Rhaenys or say something to quell an argument before one should arise, he spoke to the Crown Prince alone. "Should you like to, Aegon, you could join them in the wagon. I would not fault you, nor could I blame you should you wish to spend time with your sisters and mother."
Marna chanced a look from out of the corner of her eyes at Rhaenys' face when the King spoke. She had her nose raised and a smug look on her face, and not one second later, Marna was pulled — rather forcefully — into the much larger girl's side. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, nor was it entirely pleasant.
Aegon seemed to scowl at some point, for when Marna looked away from the Princess and back to the Prince, he looked unimpressed and bothered. "I ride at your side, Father," the Prince said from atop his horse. "As you said, in the evening is when I'll make up for all of the lost time. Rhaenys and mother will surely share her with us by then."
"I'll not keep your sister from you, but I can't promise you time alone with her. I've finally learned my third child is here, and so I intend to smother her with all of the same love I've smothered you in since first you came into this world," Elia said, her tone filled with sass as her free hand fell upon her hip.
"Poor Visenya," Aegon quipped.
Elia narrowed her eyes at the much taller, broader figure of her son. "Don't think for a moment due to your size and title, my son, that I'll not spank you as I once did when you were younger. You came from me, and if need be, I'll remind you of the power a mother has."
Rhaenys whispered into Marna's ear at that point. "Mother and Aegon aren't truly arguing, they're jesting. They have their own relationship — mine and yours will be far sweeter, Aegon's is a front for the men. He thinks it impresses them."
"Come now," the King finally said as he pressed one last kiss to Elia. "We make for the Neck at a break-neck pace."
Marna thought the urgency was a jest, but as the journey began and she found herself tucked alone save for the company of Elia and Rhaenys, she learned despite the wagon that it was no jest at all. They moved with haste, and as Winterfell finally fell out of her view, she remembered something.
The Starks had not wished her a safe journey or any form of farewell. She hadn't seen them since the moment the Targaryens took her away from them.
Marna swallowed and rubbed incessantly at her eyes as she looked out and into the surrounding woods of the North. If either of the other women saw it, they didn't say anything as they stayed engrossed in a conversation she was a silent partaker of. Her father, her brothers and sisters, all of them had not been so much as one final look at her, much less any words of goodbye.
I did this for them so that they might be safe. I shan't disappoint them, and I must find out the terms with which the King spoke of. If it is unfair to them, I will see it righted howsoever I can.
One last time, and as the air grew too cool for her to have the window near her open, Marna looked into the woods. There was no going back, not that there had been a chance since first the Targaryens had stepped into Winterfell's courtyard. Had she wished to flee, the time with which aid would have been given freely was gone.
With that, Marna Snow was gone as well, and finally, with her hair revealed and more finery on than ever before, she truly was 'Visenya Targaryen' in every way. Mayhaps only with that, it would be easier for her to think of herself as a new person, for she knew that should she continue to think of herself as Marna, the pain would be too great; she missed the Starks, and soon, she would miss the North itself.
"We've been stuck in here for hours," Rhaenys said with a groan as she stretched, one arm falling around Visenya's shoulders while the other tapped incessantly against the fabric-covered wood of the wagon. "When will father halt the caravan and make camp? Should he not do so soon?"
Elia shook her head. "When first we stop, it will be only to swap horses with those that go on unused in the back. He wishes to ride hard and fast away from Winterfell, away from the North in general."
"Why?" Rhaenys asked as her right arm around Visenya's shoulders began to knead and massage the smaller girl.
Visenya was so very happy that Rhaenys had asked the question, for she herself had wished to do so but feared what Elia might say. They would be foolish to trust her, no, mayhaps trust wasn't the right word; they knew better than to share everything or anything of substance with her so early in her time as Visenya.
She was never meant to be a Princess despite what they might say, and so she would have to train oft and attend many a lesson to fix the issues that could arise otherwise.
"Your father is very… cross, with Lord Stark. They spoke whilst we spent time with Visenya — Aegon was present too, as was Lord Stark's heir," Elia said, her words chosen carefully even to an apolitical and not overly perceptive Visenya; she had seldom experienced others outside from House Stark or their immediate and most trusted men and women. "There was a series of concessions agreed upon for the sake of peace and reparations. One of which is travelling with us at this very moment."
Visenya's interest was immediately piqued, and after swallowing, she spoke. "Who did… who did Lord Stark send with us?" she asked, stopping herself only a second or two before she called 'Lord Stark' her father.
It was the easiest way to annoy any of the Targaryens, most of all, the King. Should Visenya call any of them brother or sister, or Lord Stark her father, they would grow very cross, but it was never directed at her. Well, she was certain a portion of it was, but they didn't want to scare her off just yet.
Or maybe they're all truly that polite, and father lied. Lord Stark didn't even wish to tell me that the Targaryens were coming to claim me as their family, or who my mother was or my true father… it makes sense. He has not the silver hair or purple eyes that I possess, and as Rhaenys said, I was hidden away as if I was already stolen.
"Are you well, my sweet?" Elia asked, concern evident in her voice as she leaned forward and rested the back of one hand against her forehead.
Slowly, Mar— Visenya nodded and smiled as best she could at the Queen. "I am," she answered. "Sorry for worrying you. This is all strange to me. It feels as if it's nought but a dream and when next I wake, I'll be in my bed with my hair dyed black and my old furs on."
"Never again," Elia said in a tone that was meant to be reassuring, but with two simple words that made Visenya wince. The older woman frowned, and Rhaenys' hold of her grew tighter.
"None of it is very fair, baby sister, but we're here now. All will be as it should have been, and soon enough, you'll be experiencing everything that you should have. I'm sure if you wish it, if you truly wish it, Father will allow the Stark children to come South and see you — you'd like that, and if you'd wish it so, I'd make father allow it," Rhaenys said, her words confident-sounding and doing more to put her at ease.
"Well said, daughter," Elia said quietly as she leaned back in her seat.
Visenya, for the first time, pressed herself further into Rhaenys' side. Strange as the other girl might be, and a Targaryen on top of that, she was the one that Visenya felt most at ease around. Mayhaps it was because they had slept together, or maybe it was the girl's personality and love for physical affection; whatever it was that Rhaenys had, Visenya was immensely thankful for it with every foot further they grew from Winterfell.
Elia had been right. They had ridden through the darkness of night, but with so many torches that it seemed as if the Night had never truly come. The King truly wished to make his way away, and for good reason, as Visenya had found out just who the other person was that was travelling with them.
Her baby cousin — brother — Rickon Stark, had been taken to be a ward of the Crown. He would be raised in King's Landing, and whilst she felt terrible for him that he had been taken away from their family, she was thankful for his presence; he would not be alone, for she vowed to keep him close by.
Well, she vowed to do so silently.
At some point, the call of sleep had taken her and she woke up hours later to the same, rhythmic bumping of the wagon. Her head had been resting against Rhaenys' side, for the height disparity between them was too great for the smaller girl to rest her head on Rhaenys' shoulder.
Rhaenys, for her part, smiled down at Visenya as she woke; Elia was doing much the same, not that such clarification was needed.
"Good morning to you, baby sister," Rhaenys said, the older girl biting her bottom lip as she brought up her free arm to move the many wild strands of Visenya's silver hair from out of her face and mouth. "You slept as if you were a rock — was I comfortable?"
Elia snorted but remained silent. Visenya wished the older woman would have spoken when she realised she had her face pressed not only into Rhaenys' side but one of her rather large… breasts too.
"Well, little 'Senya?" Rhaenys urged with a playful lilt in her voice.
Slowly, Visenya nodded and moved away ever-so-slightly. "You're very soft… thank you for letting me sleep, and sorry for falling asleep against you," she said politely, the epitome of manners as she had been taught.
At that, Rhaenys and Elia frowned in unison; the two were nearly clones save for Rhaenys' rounder, larger features and purple eyes.
"I was jesting, there's no need to apologise. I would have you sleep on me rather than a bed whensoever you grow weary. We would have cuddled and bathed together nearly every day when we would have been babes," Rhaenys looked over at Elia then, but she reaffirmed her grip on Visenya's shoulder and kept the smaller girl close, lest she tries and moves to the opposite side of the bench.
"When we stop to make camp tonight, would you like to see your cousin?" Elia asked, changing the subject away from the uncomfortable nature the previous one had and filling Visenya with a sort of hope she desperately hoped wouldn't be taken away.
"Yes, please," Visenya answered, her voice as polite as it had been when she had spoken earlier. "I'm sure he'd be happy to see me even if my hair's different than from when last we played."
Rhaenys shrugged. "You're more beautiful now than you were before, and I half thought that would be impossible."
Elia rolled her eyes and caught Visenya's with her own when she was finished. "Careful of my daughter, sweet girl. I dare say with your beauty and how covetous she is of beauty, you'll never be alone again."
At Elia's words, Rhaenys opened her mouth for a rebuttal, but the door to their wagon had a knock almost as soon as they came to a sudden stop. "My apologies, Your Grace, Princesses," came a man's voice. "It's time we change the horses so that we can continue until the sun sets. Should it please you, the King has said you can step out and stretch until the men have completed their task."
"Thank you, Ser Jaime," Elia called back. That was all that she said to the man, the one that Visenya remembered had been rude when first she met the Targaryens.
"Sister?" Rhaenys asked, two of her larger hands sandwiching the one of Visenya's that was nearer to her. "I know you've seen the North's countryside for nearly six and ten years, but would you like a moment outside?"
Visenya blinked at Rhaenys, and slowly, her eyes moved to the Queen's. The look she thought the oldest woman was one filled with trepidation, for Visenya meant to make use of the time if she were allowed. "Might I speak with Rickon… Mother?"
There was a gasp from Elia at Visenya's last word. The woman had likely not expected her newest daughter to address her as anything save for the Queen or Elia for quite some time — possibly forever — and yet, the newest member of her family had done so in nought but the second day. She needn't know that Visenya was doing so in the hopes of using that joy for personal gain.
"I can make no promise, 'Senya, but I will send Prince Lewyn to speak with your father," Elia said, and like that, she moved towards the exit after sneaking a side hug with Visenya.
The watery quality of Elia's eyes wasn't lost on Visenya, nor was the smile that seemed brighter still. It had to be the sun, Visenya decided, or the woman's Dornish routes. Whatsoever was the cause for her smile and how beautiful it could be, it wasn't one with which the North would ever see.
"Father probably ordered that you stay with us and us alone until we're home," Rhaenys said quietly so that only Visenya could hear it. Soon after, the door to their wagon opened wide, allowing light and a biting wind to greet them.
Elia spoke to a man, Prince Lewyn he had to be — he looked Dornish too under his helmet — and the man went off without any audible response. At that, the Queen looked back at Visenya and held out a hand. "Come, sweet girl," she urged as if Visenya were a wild animal that need be tamed, the gesture and hesitation much the same.
"We can stretch for a few moments at the very least. It'll be far better than staying stuck up in here," Rhaenys said, her words urging Visenya to go forth just as much as Elia's actions were.
Visenya extracted herself from Rhaenys' side, that side of her body growing cold immediately on account of the lack of the other girl's warmth and slowly moved towards Elia. Her legs felt numb, her head felt as if a fog had settled inside of it and thanks to the dress, she felt thoroughly exposed despite the additional layers that were on over it.
If this was what it felt like to be carted around as a Princess, she much preferred the life of a bastard girl atop a horse with a few men at her back. At least they would barely show their presence, and never would they look at her for too long as the many men and women of the Royal Caravan were doing.
Truly, as Visenya stepped down with aid from Elia and a man of the Kingsguard, she took notice of how eerily quiet and still the immediate area had grown. If she had not known better, she would assume this was the first time many of them had seen a person with silver hair and pale skin; the King and the Prince put that thought to rest immediately.
There was a cough from Elia at the same time that Rhaenys descended the few steps, and as if the woman was as magical as those within Old Nan's tales, all action resumed. The many guards trotted away or turned their heads away from her, the men that stood at the front of the carriage resumed their workings and even Aegon himself, who Visenya hadn't noticed, rode away and with speed.
"You made Egg get caught, mama," Rhaenys said with a chuckle in her voice as she pressed herself into Visenya's back, her hands immediately seeking out the smaller girl's hair as she toyed with it.
"Aegon could have journeyed with us had he so wished to, and had you not provoked him, daughter," Elia responded, rolling her eyes as she shot a second's long glare over Visenya's head and at the taller girl currently against her back; her eyes fell down afterwards, catching Visenya's with warmth and affection, the previous emotions gone. "You'll have to forgive Aegon, sweet girl. He's not as good at saying what goes on inside that mind of his, not like Rhaenys… you'll have to be careful she isn't too forward."
"I make up for Egg's reservations," Rhaenys said, speaking directly into Visenya's right ear.
It made the smaller girl shiver more than the cold ever had.
"You make up for his lack of troubles too," Elia quipped, as she gestured with her head for the two younger women to follow her. "All of them need excusing. Many weren't aware of why we visited, and their confusion that we're leaving so shortly after arriving must be beyond comprehension."
"We're Targaryens. They probably just think we've finally gone mad," Rhaenys jested.
"Enough out of you," Elia said with a shake of her head and a scolding look.
"Yes, mama," Rhaenys said, giggling under her breath, the sudden volley of exhales splashing against Visenya's ears much the same as her words had; it made a queer sensation rise up. One that had never existed before, for no person had attached themselves to Visenya as much as Rhaenys had.
"Ser Barristan and Lord Commander Hightower were the only two Kingsguard that knew, and of the Small Council, only Lord Varys was aware of our trip. You already know why Lord Varys was aware, darling," Elia said as the trio made it to a clearing filled with wildflowers and berries; Visenya knew the berries were of a type that couldn't be eaten. "Now that I think about it, he must be rewarded for his service to our family. His deed and those of his little birds may never be outdone in my lifetime."
Rhaenys nodded, Visenya felt the girl's hair and head, the former tickling the back of her neck. "The Spider deserves a juicy fly," she said. "Harrenhal? Is there another seat that we might afford to him?"
The look on Elia's face at Rhaenys' words was immensely annoyed, and yet, Visenya thought that she might have spied a touch of amusement from the older woman. When she spoke, there was no scolding nor answer to Rhaenys' question given. "Lord Varys desires land as much as he desires women, my sweet. Would that we could offer him Casterly Rock or Highgarden — he would refuse."
"What's he want?" Visenya asked, finally speaking up at the same time she walked — with Rhaenys still pressed against her back and the girl's arms around her centre — towards one of the large berry bushes.
"To serve the realm," Rhaenys said, a horrible accent put in place and a mocking tone present.
"I hope that with you now where you belong, my lovely Visenya, you might teach Rhaenys the matter of decorum and timing. It's evident that Rhaegar and I weren't up to the task," Elia said, shaking her head as she seemingly gave up on Rhaenys' behaviour… for the time being. "As for his desires, Rhaenys spoke the truth, albeit in a way that greatly detracts from it."
"Please, that's how he speaks, mother," Rhaenys said.
Elia opened her mouth to respond, but the man from earlier came up and began to speak in hushed tones into her ears. Whilst that happened, Rhaenys tightened her hold around Visenya a few feet too far from the bush.
"They're poisonous, 'Senya," Rhaenys said quietly, and as one hand swept up Visenya's long, silver hair. "I can't let you any nearer to them than we already are."
I wasn't intent on eating them.
"You worry for my safety?" Visenya asked instead of firing a biting retort at Rhaenys.
"We've only just found you. I shan't let you leave, not until we're old, gray and looking at our Grandchildren," Rhaenys responded, those words being the first that were said seriously since they had left the wagon.
Visenya wasn't sure how to respond, and thankfully, she need not concern herself with doing so. Elia addressed the pair and said that the men had finished with the wagon expeditiously, and as a result, Visenya would not be given the chance to see her baby cousin until the end of the day.
In Visenya's mind, the choice had been made to block her from doing so the moment the man, Prince Lewyn, had left. They wanted her completely and utterly now that she was with them. Elia and Rhaenys were polite with what they said and how they acted, the Prince was awkward, and the King was a mixture of sadness and adoration.
Visenya wouldn't be the fool. She was of the North, and the North remembers; only time could truly tell how they would treat her or if her fate would end the same as her mother, her Nuncle Brandon, and her Grandfather. She cursed herself for allowing dark thoughts to fester, but they were innate to her… as innate as Elia's smile.
"Aegon will grow jealous with how attached the two of you have become," Elia commented from her seated position a good few feet away from Rhaenys and Visenya, the warmth of the large tent making the three lethargic.
Rhaenys grinned, victorious-looking and smug as she tightened her hold around Visenya; for her part, the smaller girl allowed Rhaenys' touch. She told herself that there was little she could do to stop the more powerful girl, for her strength was not solely physical. It need not be mentioned that there was a portion of her that thrived under the attention and all but preened whensoever her sister commented or pet her.
"Aegon had his chance," Rhaenys said as she pressed a kiss to Visenya's nape, her two hands massaging up and down the smaller girl's arms and shoulders. "Had he travelled with us instead of Father, he could have spent all that time with her that he liked. Instead, she's mine"
"She's ours," Elia said, rolling her eyes as she went along playfully with Rhaenys' possessive words. "And I do believe your Father and Brother will be along shortly. It took the men no time at all to set this up and furnish it, 'tis the only reason it's seemed like an eternity within the warmth and comfort of this tent."
Visenya agreed, the tent was very warm and comfortable. The rugs, the bed, the chairs and the platters of food… it was more than she deserved. In fact, she felt as if she were too pampered and undeserving of all that she was receiving. It need not matter that the Targaryens could afford it with ease, for after nought but one singular day, she had experienced more spoiling than throughout the entirety of her life.
"Just wait until 'Senya sees home for the first time," Rhaenys said, her words as much for Visenya as they were for Elia.
Elia folded her lips inwards as she set down her glass of wine and looked at Visenya. The older woman's eyes were searching, and after she swallowed the remnants of wine in her mouth, she opened it to speak. "I do hope that you find King's Landi—"
The flaps to their tent burst open without so much as one word from the outside world, and as Visenya and Rhaenys jumped and Elia turned, eyebrows raised at the intrusion, they took notice of who had arrived.
It was Aegon. He was out of breath, still in his riding clothes, and looking around as if he had gone mad. When he spotted Visenya in a nightgown in Rhaenys' arms and a large fur wrapped around the pair, he groaned. That didn't stop him from moving as close to them as he could, that being the chair near the foot of the bed that Elia had originally sat in before moving to the tray of wine and snacks.
"Mother," he said to her without so much as a look in Elia's direction. "Visenya."
Visenya bowed her head, and as she did so, Rhaenys peppered the nape of her neck with small, ticklish kisses. "Pr—Prince Aeg—on," she squeaked out through a fit of giggles that she couldn't control.
He looked at her with an expression as if she had just insulted him, and then he glared. Initially, Visenya thought the poison-filled look was meant for her, but when Rhaenys stopped peppering her neck with kisses, she realised who it was truly meant for. From out of the corner of her right eye, she could even make out Rhaenys' tongue sticking out at Aegon.
"Aegon or brother, never Prince Aegon, baby sister," he said after that murderous look fell from his face to be replaced with something that was a mixture of charming and gallantry.
Visenya would hand it to him, he could certainly look the part of a Prince. As for actions, she was much less impressed with him than she was in regard to the queer and overly-affectionate Rhaenys.
"As you say, Aegon," Visenya said with a dip of her head. She let the silence that fell when she finished speaking linger for all of a few seconds, and then she spoke again when Aegon didn't make to do anything short of staring at her and Rhaenys. "Did you… enjoy the Northern countryside?"
"It was a treat to view, though I dare say the most beautiful sight to behold throughout the entirety of this trip has been you, little sister," Aegon said, his words spoken with confidence as he sat tall and with his shoulders spread apart.
At least now he's regained his breath… though the stink of a horse remains on him. It smells like home.
"Our baby sister is a beauty, 'tis true. It's for that very reason that it'll be I who stays by her side — we mustn't let cruel rumours befall her," Rhaenys said, speaking up as she returned to massaging Visenya's shoulders. "Mayhaps I'll even allow you to sup with us on occasion. Only if you're polite, little brother… what say you, 'Senya? Should he have to retrieve flowers for the chance to share a meal with you? Something else?"
Visenya swallowed as she caught on to what was happening. Aegon and Rhaenys each wished to claim her as their sister. Elia's words of warning spoken only earlier in the wagon made sense. Rhaenys claimed things of beauty, and to Rhaenys, it seemed as if Visenya was a 'thing' of beauty. Aegon, for his part, seemed to want her just as bad.
It wasn't unusual, Visenya had witnessed the same jealousy and possessiveness with a few of her Northern siblings. Arya and Robb especially were much the same as Aegon and Rhaenys; each fought for her time, and each would tease the other incessantly over the smallest of victories.
They share the same starting initials, mayhaps the Gods had a hand in that, Visenya had to fight to hide a frown as her siblings spoke heated words to one another, words with which she tuned out from hearing. If that is where they spent their time, it would make sense why so many claim the Gods to be cruel.
"Enough," Elia finally said, the voices of Rhaenys and Aegon stopped immediately. "I'll not…my love, finally."
Elia's words had been heated and her eyes were awash with the fire that House Targaryen oft mentioned. That fire, strange as it was to witness from a woman as slight and soft-spoken as Elia, was quelled as the King's presence was announced mere seconds before he entered the tent. When he did so, his breath was even and his steps were carefully measured.
He looked and acted the part of a King.
"Elia," Rhaegar said softly, his affection for the woman known as he swooped her up in his arms and kissed her deeply. That kiss persisted for longer than most would deem proper, and when the time finally came for him to set his wife back to the ground, he did so with a content noise that was echoed by Elia. "Children," he said a second later, his eyes flickering between the trio.
"Father," Aegon responded first, his voice matching his father's calmness as his earlier jealousy and anger at Rhaenys was seemingly forgotten.
Rhaenys squeezed Visenya's shoulder as if to remind the smaller girl that the King was addressing her as equally as he was addressing the other two. With that reminder, Visenya swallowed as the man's eyes captivated hers, and wetting her lips, she spoke.
"Father," she said in tandem with Rhaenys, the older girl having timed her so that they spoke in unison.
"Good girl," Rhaenys whispered, her voice so low and soft that Visenya half-thought she had heard a ghost; it was only the second squeeze of her opposite shoulder that convinced her the words had truly been slipped in before their father responded to the trio.
"Aegon, Rhaenys, Visenya," he said, one name after the next all the whilst his eyes remained on the lattermost of the three. "By all the Gods, the new, the old and even the Lysene Goddess, I have longed to say your names together — tell me of your day, daughters."
Rhaegar fell into the chair beside Elia, a glass of wine already poured for him, and like that he remained until the light of the day was well and truly gone, and the vast majority of the men and women of the camp had allowed sleep to claim them. Owls sang, bats whistled by, and wolves howled, and for hours to come the Dragons stayed together.
Visenya wished so very badly that Rhaegar and Elia would have stayed until Aegon left, for when the King and Queen separated so that they might sleep, she desired not to be left to her two squabbling… siblings.
In every story, it was the young and juvenile dragons that were the most troublesome, dangerous and covetous of their possessions, regardless of the truth of the lattermost word.
"Be a dear, Aegon, and grab more wine for Visenya and I," Rhaenys said within seconds of Rhaegar and Elia's departure.
Aegon narrowed his eyes at Rhaenys, but when those eyes fell to Visenya's and she blinked at him, his gaze turned soft. It was odd after hearing how brat-like he could be, and Rhaenys only yesterday had mentioned that he acted the part of a man to impress other men. It occurred that she could have some personal bias, but from what Visenya had witnessed herself, it was more likely that Aegon's looks and manners were faked than Rhaenys'
Nonetheless and whilst Visenya had been deep in thought, Aegon moved to do as their older sister requested. He looked as if he didn't wish to fill their cups for them as he did so, but when he did, Visenya's was first and he went so far as to help her with one hand atop hers so that none was spilt upon her clothing.
Or rather, their clothing. None of what she wore, slept on or looked at it was hers regardless of what they claimed. It was not her coin that purchased it or her hands that claimed it.
"It took nought but one look from our innocent baby sister to turn that heart of yours to mush, is that right, little brother?" Rhaenys asked, her voice teasing as she toyed with Visenya's hair with her off-hand and sipped with the other.
"Right in one, and for the very reason of her innocence. I find her purity and manners a sight to behold nearly of the same quality of her person," Aegon shot back, his words scathing whilst he looked at her with the polar opposite of expressions on his face. "Truly, little sister. Try as I might, I fail to recall one beauty that matches you."
Rhaenys snorted. "That weed from the Reach would be so very hurt if she heard you say as much."
"Margaery Tyrell is a whore. You've heard the rumours the same as I, Rhaenys, and mother and father have as well. I'll not marry her, and nary anothe—" Aegon stopped, shook his head, and shot a meaningful look at Rhaenys; Visenya intercepted it and took note of how even Rhaenys herself seemed to take a step back from her teasing and words of viciousness. "Enough of those women. I mean to spend this time with Visenya."
"I suppose you do have to secure second place in her heart. You wouldn't wish for Daenerys or Viserys to do so," Rhaenys agreed, that same smugness from earlier in place even if her words had lost the edge to them that had previously been present.
Again, Visenya was reminded of Elia's words in the wagon. Those words had not been contested by Rhaenys when they had been spoken.
Aegon ignored Rhaenys' words and focused solely on Visenya. He remained quiet as he sat patiently at the foot of their bed, one half of him illuminated with the flickering fire whilst the other remained dark as he was still. Nary another word was spoken by him, and so Visenya blinked as her brows furrowed.
"What would you like to know?" she asked slowly, thankful for Rhaenys' presence; she never would have thought a Targaryen would become an anchor or safety net of sorts, yet it had happened.
The world was truly turned upon its head if it hadn't been already.
In the darkness and orange light of the fire, Visenya's unfocused, tired eyes could make out a shrug from Aegon. "Tell me not of your time with Lord Stark or his children, but of your thoughts on all that's happened," he said. "I know it must seem strange to be whisked away from a place you've called home for over a decade, and as a dear friend claims, discussion works wonders to ease the mind of its many burdens."
Surprisingly, Rhaenys had no clever words in response to Aegon's.
"You might not be pleased with the thoughts that rattle around inside of my mind," Visenya stated as the call of sleep grew stronger, and Rhaenys' warmth and steady breathing against her back grew more comforting with every passing second.
"You're here," Aegon said. "It is too late for you to leave us. Father knows of you, we all do, and I dare say we'll never be able to continue without you ever again."
Rhaenys made a noise of agreement. "You wouldn't know, but Father and Mother are happier now than they've ever been before. Our trip to the North was filled with stress, and many an argument was had. Never again will that happen."
"Remind yourself of that, please," Aegon said with a snort. "Go on, Visenya. Speak your mind, we can handle it."
Those were the last words Visenya heard before the call of sleep grew too strong. Rhaenys' warmth, the wine, the heat and fur, all of it claimed her, and when next she opened her eyes, it was to birdsong and sunlight peeping through the tent with Elia's smiling visage the first sight that she saw.
The morn had come, and she remembered not if anything else had happened after Aegon's words; she thought not, but it felt like a dream.
Everything felt as if it were a dream.
Chapter 3: Prison, or Freedom?
Notes:
This story is written for two people very close to me - you know who you are - and I thank them so much for their continued friendship and assistance. I'm unsure of the update schedule for this fic, I'll be gone before too long, but I hope to continue to write and post whensoever I can find the time to do so.
Marna = Female Jon Snow, the other characters should be self-evident. Thank you and have a wonderful day!
(If you're interested in Beta'ing for this fic, I would greatly appreciate it as I've recently lost two of my Betas to IRL matters.)
Feel free to join my Discord for updates, giveaways (for those who actively chat), early access and information, link on my profile. Without any more preamble from me, I hope you enjoy the story!
Chapter Text
Visenya opened her eyes slowly, her hands brought up to rub the remnants of sleep from them. As had been the case the night prior, there was a pressure against her back that was soft and at the same time, smothering. Rhaenys, it had to be, for there was nought but one body with her and it felt familiar.
Tentatively, Visenya's eyes glanced around the tent, and it was then that she spotted the smiling visage of Elia.
"Good morning," the woman said to her in a voice that was soft as the breeze that came through the flaps of the tent. "Did I wake you, sweet one?"
Visenya shook her head and slowly pulled away from the sleeping form of Rhaenys. The nightgown she wore was thick and soft, softer than the fur blankets they were covered with, and it sent a jolt through her body. If she so wished, she could stay in the softness and warmth of the bed until Elia urged her to rise to resume their travels South. No longer was Visenya in the North, where lessons and secrecy went hand-in-hand so as to protect her from would-be hostage-takers or kidnappers.
He didn't protect me from them — they've taken me.
"We make to resume our travels soon, for our ships at White Harbour should soon arrive and we needn't dally in this country… if you would like, before we break our fasts, I could have word sent that you'll visit the Stark child," Elia's smile grew when Visenya's eyes widened and she sat up, allowing the furs to fall from her body. "I see that's got your attention."
"Rickon. Has he been well?" she questioned, ignoring Elia's remark as she made to move closer to the woman, her morning fog sliced clean through with worrying thoughts of her little brother.
"We don't mistreat children, nor do we lock them away," Elia answered, an edge to her voice as she gestured towards a gown that had been laid out at the foot of the bed. "Rickon Stark has been taken for walks throughout the country with men that we trust. He has eaten as well as we do, and two maid-servants are seeing to whatsoever he needs."
Visenya moved closer to the dress, bowing her head and shrinking inwards at the Queen's tone. The woman was small, about the same size as she was, but she spoke and acted as a Queen would. That wasn't to mention her Dornish accent that added an extra layer of intimidation when she spoke. Again, Visenya steeled herself to ensure Rickon was kept safe and away from the games those in the South would play, and beyond that, she would see to it that the Starks would not be hurt anymore than they already had been.
Rickon should have remained in the North, where he belonged. How was it fair to deprive her Fa— Uncle his child when their very complaint was him having done so to them? Mayhaps they meant it for retribution so that the North might understand what it felt like when a member of their family was taken from them. If so, the logic of House Targaryen was flawed, for they had killed three Starks during the rebellion and events that preceded it.
"Visenya?" Elia questioned, the woman's expression gentle and her tone matching as she gazed at her; gone was the bitter edge and matching look.
"Forgive me, I was lost in my mind," Visenya apologised immediately, bowing her head in deference. "Is there… might there be another gown as the one I wore the previous day? I admit, I know not of fashion as you or Rhaenys might, it's — I fancy the leathers and furs that keep me covered."
Elia stood from her chair and set aside an apple that Visenya hadn't seen in the woman's right hand as she drew nearer. "As I said, sweet girl, you needn't worry about fashion. We wish for you to be comfortable, and if you require clothing that reminds you of what you've known your entire life, you will have it."
Before Visenya could bow her head again and thank the Queen for her unending kindness thus far, a groan came from Rhaenys, as did a yawn.
"Mama… where's my 'Sen—ya?" the girl asked, her voice heavy with sleep as another yawn sounded, interrupting her pronunciation of Visenya's name.
Visenya's mouth opened to respond, but the Queen beat her to it. "I've stolen her out from under you whilst you slept, silly girl. She's mine now, and so you'll have to go and play with your brother. If you wished to keep her, you would have risen when she did," Elia winked at Visenya and whispered when next she spoke, her words only just heard by Visenya over the sound of the camp surrounding them. "I will send for new clothes, and when you've changed, I personally will see you to your cousin."
There was little Visenya could do other than express her utmost gratitude. In a strange camp with strange people that had 'liberated' her from the only home she had ever known, she was glad to have the chance to speak with and see a slice of the North that she'd known from the moment it came into the world.
She would not forget the Queen's kindness, nor Rhaenys', even if the two were stifling with their affection.
"Did you think he might be near the outermost walls of our camp?" Elia asked, her hand holding Visenya close to her body as she gestured around the rather large and impressive makeshift campsite.
In truth, the answer to that question was not so simple. With the Royal Family and her toward the very centre of the site, Visenya had thought he might be near a portion that would be difficult to escape from and hard for her to reach sans the company of another. It was for that very reason in addition to a great deal of worry and mental exhaustion that she hadn't tried to reach Rickon when it was nought but her, the Prince and Rhaenys in the tent.
Had she known he had been but a dozen tents over and kept by no more than two guards at a time, she would have used her newfound title of 'Princess' to push her way into seeing him.
"I had thought he would be farther away," Visenya admitted, pressing further into the woman when she noticed a group of men looking at her in a mixture of awe and disbelief.
She agreed with them, it must be very strange to go so far from your home with four Targaryens and return South with five. Mayhaps some of them were dishonourable as many a Southron man was too. It was well-known in the North that the Andals were far removed from the First Men in honour, manners and even the gods they kept to.
"Rhaegar and I had thought it would give you peace of mind to know that he was close," Elia said, patting Visenya's arm with that ever-present smile on her face. "You might find your Father angry or vengeful, and perhaps in the case of the latter, you might be right. I only ask that you not judge us so quickly, for long have we wished for you to be, and to think that you were kept from us… it is hard to feel mercy towards the man that stole you."
Visenya kept her eyes aimed at the ground. The Queen had accurately predicted some of her thoughts towards King Rhaegar. He seemed a man quick to anger and constantly sorrowful and melancholy in what he did whensoever she saw him, without a doubt in her mind and when concessions were mentioned, vengeful was a trait she would give to him. She wished not to go South, to stay with the Targaryens or learn their ways, she didn't even wish to go by the name 'Visenya' or to have her hair returned to the colour they wished it to be.
It was natural, that was true, but it didn't feel that way. It felt as if they wished to strip away everything that made her Marna so that the image of 'Visenya Targaryen' could be shown off to the Seven Kingdoms in its entirety.
"I will not judge the King, the Prince or Rhaenys," was her eventual response to the expectant-looking Queen, Visenya's voice light and meek lest she angers the woman. "It is hard for me too. I have been Marna for my entire life."
"You needn't change how you act, your hobbies or what fills you with enjoyment, sweet girl. Only your name and the unnatural changes need be done away with," Elia pressed a gentle kiss to her brow, rubbed her back for a scant few seconds and eventually, shook her head. "I shan't keep you any longer from the Stark boy. I've done so long enough — go, be with your cousin, put him at ease as well as your mind, and when you've finished, we'll return to our carriage with Rhaenys. By then, she might be up, dressed and ready to journey."
When Elia laughed, Visenya did as well. The woman was very kind regardless of Visenya's inner turmoil and thoughts that it was all a play; inner demons be damned, Visenya felt oddly at ease in the company of the women of House Targaryen.
With one last look at Elia, the woman gesturing encouragingly towards the tent as Lady Catelyn would to her children, Visenya pushed open the flaps of the tent and was greeted with the small form of Rickon. He lay bundled on a bed nearly as large as the one she had slept on, his body covered in furs and a tray of food left untouched on a small table nearby.
"Little brother," Visenya — Marna — whispered, her voice choking up as she raced towards him with her arms outstretched. "Rickon."
When she said his name, the bundle of furs fell away and he darted towards her as a pup might towards its mother. Two small arms wrapped around her torso and his legs wrapped around her with just as much force, mayhaps even more. She could hear him whimpering in what could be fear, sadness and more; his turmoil was as grand as hers, if not moreso, for he was but a babe that had been taken far too soon from his family's side.
"Shhh, little brother. I'm here," she whispered to him as one hand rubbed his head, smoothing his wild hair whilst her other massaged and patted his back so that she might comfort him. Marna wasn't a fool, she knew there was little she could truly do for him or herself, but what else could she do? "I'm here for you, always."
Rickon stayed silent save for the occasional whimper, groan or sniffle.
"Look at me, Rickon," she said hopefully, wishing to meet his gaze. "Please."
He sniffled again and brought one small hand to rub at his eyes. Words came free of his lips, but she couldn't understand them. Whatsoever he had said was interrupted by sniffles and the boy blowing his nose into one of the furs. Still, slowly, he lifted his eyes to look at her and when he did, those bloodshot, angry eyes of his went wide when he took in her hair, and then his expression of sadness morphed into one of fear.
When she saw the fear shine through, it was then most of all that she felt the part of Visenya Targaryen.
"It's Marna — I'm Marna, little brother. My hair, it's what it looks like when Father doesn't have me colour it. I'm still me," she said, her voice cracking as if she were nearly in tears herself.
And she was. How could one not be when their little brother looked at them with an expression of fear, district and sorrow?
"Father and Mother… miss them," Rickon said, his voice as broken as she felt at that moment.
There was little she could do, and so she held onto Rickon until word was sent for her to return to the Queen and Rhaenys.
She wished she could have stayed with her little brother all the while they journeyed through the vast expanse of wilderness that was her homeland. From the time they began their journey for the day until the time came for them to make camp once more, there was little she said or did with the members of House Targaryen that could take her mind off of Rickon's grief-stricken words and visage.
He deserved so much more.
Visenya's eyes were wide as she looked on in awe at White Harbour, the seat of House Manderly and one of the greatest cities throughout all of the Seven Kingdoms. It smelt of the sea, the noise of the city from the outskirts was deafening to her ears, and the pure scale of the walls, the towers…
It was the greatest, largest city castle that she had ever seen, and Rhaenys and Elia each boasted that King's Landing and the Red Keep were far superior. Visenya knew nought if that was true or if they wished to play up their homeland, she only knew that White Harbour had to be one of the greatest constructs of the First Men.
"We're to book passage on a ship?" she questioned when she'd finally taken her fill of the view that was the gigantic city.
"No, we'll not book passage upon a ship run by merchants or fishermen. There's a portion of the Royal Fleet currently docked at White Harbour, and if it was timed correctly as I suspect it was, for Lord Velaryon has never once let us down, it should only have been present for a day, mayhaps two," Elia leaned forward and took Visenya's hands in her own equally as dainty ones. "I wished to show you much of the land, but it was decided this was faster and less dangerous."
Rhaenys huffed. "I wished to see Moat Cailin again."
"Would you risk it?" Elia bit back, a brow raised as she scolded her daughter before she returned her attention to Visenya. "I'm sure you'll enjoy the sea just as much as you would the many sights we could have seen — mayhaps more so, for we need not interact with House Tully or House Frey."
"Walder Frey. He thinks himself the man who changed the tides when the would-be Usurper fell at the Trident," Rhaenys scoffed.
"His men were vital in handling the prisoners and breaking the morale of the shattered men, daughter. Late as he was, he and his made our handling of the men that threw down their arms easier. Despise the lecherous man as we might, an ally such as he is better to have than an enemy where one needn't exist," Elia shook her head and patted Visenya's hands, the woman's teeth showing as she brought Visenya's hands to her mouth for a series of tickling kisses. "I've ensured that you share a large cabin aboard one of our grandest ships with Rhaenys. Rhaegar and I will be in the room beside yours, and Aegon, across the hall. If you feel sick, you needn't watch the waves as we sail, though I believe you'll be as struck with wonder as I was when first I set sail."
"It's very beautiful, though not as beautiful as you, little sister," Rhaenys gushed, pushing into Visenya's side and throwing an arm around her as she squished their cheeks together.
"I didn't truly steal our 'Senya away from you, Rhaenys," Elia said, dropping her hands from Visenya's as she leaned back and looked at her daughter in amusement.
The older girl truly was possessive, almost to the point of being covetous when it came to Visenya, her time and her person.
"I wouldn't let you," Rhaenys shot back, encircling Visenya's smaller, lithe frame with her larger, more curvaceous one.
"Let me?" Elia parroted, her amusement growing as she tapped on the wood of the carriage. "What say you, Visenya?"
Visenya turned her head and looked up at Rhaenys' confident, smug expression, and then over to the older woman, calm, amused and smiling. If one must be picked, in truth, Visenya would opt for Rhaenys. The girl wasn't her favourite, for that would be the Queen, her decision lay solely in what she had seen from the pair; the Queen could not be predicted, whereas Rhaenys acted confident, affectionate and possessive at all times thus far.
Though neither were an enemy in the truest sense of the word, the quote still rang true that her father had said many a time; better the enemy you know, than the one you don't.
"Must I pick?" she asked quietly when Rhaenys' grip tightened and the girl's brows raised, expecting an answer.
"Ye—"
"Of course not, we were nought but teasing you," Elia said, speaking over Rhaenys whilst her eyes shot an undecipherable look at the aforementioned girl. "We'll board our ship soon, and we'll have a few dozen others sailing with us. Once we're prepared, would you like it if we viewed the sea together?"
Visenya bit her bottom lip at the prospect of viewing the sea, her head filled with tales from Old Nan's stories. There were many dangerous creatures that roamed the waters, she knew that.
"Yes, please," she answered nonetheless, the intrigue and mystery of such an expanse of water getting to her. "Is it truly safe?"
Elia nodded while Rhaenys began to play with her long, flowing silverish hair. "It is," the older woman said.
"Leviathans shan't bother us, and if we're lucky, we'll spot seals and other beautiful creatures of the sea. There's nothing quite like flowing with the waves and watching the wonders that pop to the surface," Rhaenys said, no longer teasing her mother as her voice turned serious as Visenya knew it would on occasion.
Leviathans.
Visenya swallowed as they passed through the gates, the sound and smell of the city assaulting her senses.
This journey truly was very… enlightening. Enough so that she wished to return to her safe tower made of stone and unmoving, strong and reassuring. Ships, Leviathans, Freys. None of them sounded all that appealing despite her innate desire to see the world.
It would be a sennight and a half aboard the ship that would see them safely from White Harbour to King's Landing. It was a journey that the crew had made many a time before for training and for other reasons that hadn't been clarified. When first Visenya boarded the giant vessel, she knew it would feel… strange. The gentle swaying of the water as it held aloft the ship was very different to walking on the earth, even in marshes or mud. In truth, it felt as if she were constantly only a step away from falling from the moment she left the docks.
Rhaenys didn't laugh at her unease, nor did any of the others. The King and Aegon sought out the Captain of the ship, a man that also had the same silverish hair that Visenya, Aegon and the King had; Rhaenys' darker hue came from the Queen, though the girl had eyes that matched Visenya's better than Aegon's seemed to.
"I suppose if I must," Rhaenys said petulantly, folding her arms as she looked at Elia.
"You must," the woman said, shaking her head and shooting a bemused look at Visenya. "It is as I said, is it not? Rhaenys has grown accustomed to having you to herself, and lest I force her, she'll not spare Aegon an ounce of time with the two of you."
"Aegon has the men to speak with and regale with tales of his exploits. Visenya won't be impressed by violence or the views he's beheld, nor his time in Dorne — I speak better of our home than he does, anyways," Rhaenys scrunched up her face sourly and huffed. "Fine, you win, mother."
Elia patted Visenya on the cheek softly, just enough for the girl to feel it. "In time, you'll be able to handle our Rhaenys with nought but a look too. She acts tough, but she'll not refuse me any more than she'd refuse you."
"Mama!" Rhaenys said in a whine-like tone of voice.
In response, Elia simply laughed as she walked towards the cabin, her steps confident and her gait as graceful as when she strutted across the dock. Frankly, Visenya was very jealous of the woman's ability aboard the boat, and more so of her figure. The Queen was as a woman, the same as Rhaenys, whereas Visenya was very slight, enough so that Rhaenys had privately asked whilst they waited for the ship if she'd been fed enough.
Of course, I have, Visenya thought with a huff. The Starks would never starve me. If not for them, I would have had nothing.
"Would you like to wait for Mother to return?" Rhaenys asked now that it was nought but the two of them… a few dozen sailors and two men of the Kingsguard, silent and immobile in their vigil.
Visenya swallowed and wrapped her arms around Rhaenys' waist out of necessity. The waters were particularly rough today as they made away from the shore, and with the rockiness of the ship, she was too scared that she'd fall and look more the part of a fool than she already felt.
"Might we find a place to sit or lay?" she asked, a slight shake to her that didn't calm even when Rhaenys wrapped an arm around her; if she felt this poorly, she could only imagine how Rickon felt.
He wasn't on their ship, however, and so she could only pray to the Old Gods that they might take care of him. For whatever reason, one that she thought she knew well enough, her brother had been sent to another ship, one that was close enough that 'he could wave should he go to the surface of the vessel' she had been told.
She wasn't a fool. She knew they didn't wish for her to use him as a line to the North, to her family.
"Anything that you wish," Rhaenys answered, starting the two of them towards where the Queen had only just gone while she kept her grip around Visenya's waist. "So I know for certain, sweet sister, you would rather your time be with me than Aegon, is that right?"
Visenya's eyes went up to Rhaenys'. "I know you far more than I know him… I… I don't believe the Prince is fond of me — he didn't wish to ride with us, nor did he wish to spend nearly as much time with me as you and the Queen did."
"Aegon and Mother, or Elia, not the Prince and the Queen," Rhaenys said her face scrunching up as her other hand came around to trace shapes on Visenya's lips, pink and slight. "You needn't use their titles. They're not better than you, they're not going to hurt you. We're family, and if ever Aegon does anything that you find uncouth or bothersome, I'll see him away from you. And he does like you, I'm certain of that."
"I don't mean to offend and thank you. Sister," Visenya tacked on the last word and Rhaenys' smile in response was as bright as the Northern sun ever grew. "The tournament, the Lords and Ladies that the… Father will tell — will I have time to settle, or will it be as soon as we return?"
"As soon as we return, as much as I, Mother and Aegon wish to delay it. If we did, word would spread, rumours would run amuck and many a clarification would need to be made. We wish we could keep you away from the courtiers and fools of the court until you were ready, but we can't," Rhaenys hung her head, momentarily defeated before she lifted it with a smile back on her face. "It needn't all be bad. You'll meet our cousins. Tyene, Obara, Nymeria, they'll all love you as I do."
"They're from Dorne, Sunspear, I think you said," Visenya said, squeezing through the door as she and Rhaenys went through it together, the scent of the sea lessened and the swaying feeling less pronounced now that they were in a hall.
"You're right. Tyene and the others will oft visit King's Landing to see us, as will our Uncle Oberyn — Uncle Doran, he stays in Dorne. He's ill, and he needn't exacerbate his health issues," Rhaenys pointed out a flight of stairs, and they ascended together, the stronger girl's grip tightening around Visenya for an added sense of security. "The offer still stands, should it interest you."
Visenya bit her bottom lip. Dorne sounded very hot, and the idea of the Water Gardens whilst appealing was also uncomfortable. Mayhaps one day, when she was older and not freshly stolen away from the North, she would visit. Winter, possibly, for Dorne would likely be much cooler and more to her tastes.
Never was the sweltering son something that Visenya would ever enjoy.
"One day," Visenya answered as the two finished their ascension and stood in another much shorter and more guarded hall; there were two other men of the Kingsguard present too. It had to be where the King and Queen were resting.
Rhaenys saw where Visenya was looking and waved to the men. "Ser Velaryon and Prince Lewyn — they're both very kind, talented men. Our family owes them a great deal."
"You owe us nothing, Princess," Prince Lewyn said with a very minor shake of his head whilst his eyes tracked the pair, the other man, Ser Velaryon, remained silent and stock still in his vigil.
"Please," Rhaenys said with a scoff and wave of her free hand, the other tightening around Visenya's waist when the girl stumbled for a moment. There had been a particularly large wave, she imagined, for why else would the ship move about as it had? "Without Prince Lewyn at the Trident, Ser Corbray might have struck our Father from behind as he bested the Usurper. We've never forgotten. Ser Arthur too, and in truth, nearly every man save for Ser Jaime who stayed behind to protect us; if not for them, who knows how the Battle of the Trident might have gone?"
Visenya didn't know very much about the battle, nor was she all that aware of the war or the happenings therein. She knew only that her Father had brought her to the North when he returned, and until recently, there had been little to no information about her family save for the fact that she was a Stark. In her fa— Lord Stark's own words 'you may not have my name, but you have my blood.'
Regardless of which side she believed, that much was true. Visenya had flowing through her veins the blood of the First Men and that of the Valyrians.
"We'll sup with them later," Rhaenys said to one of the men, smiling at them as she urged Visenya forward, to a door that was pushed open by one of the men behind them and closed shortly after the two girls entered.
Inside, the room was rather impressive. It had not the familiar stone architecture that Visenya did so enjoy, and at the same time, it didn't quite match the tent they had rested in for a few days time. The colours of House Targaryen were prevalent, there was artwork and expertly crafted tapestries, rugs that looked newly made and sheets upon the large bed that looked as soft as the silken ones she'd been sleeping in since her time with Rhaenys.
At the farthest corner, there were a few bottles of wine tightly secured and a tray of food with walls around it so that the contents thereof didn't escape as the boat listed to and fro. As Visenya had come to expect, it was expensive-looking and the epitome of leisure, though in her mind, it seemed wasteful. How much time had it taken for the large room to be filled and how much gold had been wasted in the process?
"We had a smaller ship until recently — we thought that a larger one might be safer and more comfortable," Rhaenys said as her hand drifted down to the small of Visenya's back. "You don't seem very fond of travel by sea."
"I don't dislike it," Visenya answered quickly, folding her hands before her.
"You can have a differing opinion, we'll not be angry if you do. In fact, Aegon and I oft argue with one another on matters of fashion and taste, especially when it comes to clothing or the decorations of a room. It was only thanks to Mother's input that the ship was decorated to my specifications rather than his," Rhaenys pulled Visenya along until the two were seated on the edge of the bed. When they were, the former scooched back and positioned the latter before her, a brush seemingly materialising from out of nowhere. "You don't mind, do you?"
Visenya shook her head and allowed her shoulders to drop, the muscles all but sighing in thanks; she had been so very tense recently. It felt like Sansa was with her again, the girl did so love to brush her hair and it was an enjoyable bonding activity that she had loved to return. Arya disliked it, but Visenya had always felt more at ease when she could be close to those she loved.
"I'm very jealous of you, little sister," Rhaenys gushed as she gently applied pressure whilst combing through her hair.
"Your hair is lusher and longer than mine," Visenya replied, one hand tentatively reaching back to grab at Rhaenys' mane. The Princess took hold of her hand and directed it the rest of the way, a smile in her tone when next she spoke.
"You've not examined your own close enough," Rhaenys said, sighing in contentedness. "It's truly beautiful and so very soft beyond belief. Between you and our little Aunt Daenerys, I dare say no man will be able to refuse any request you'd make of him."
"Aunt Daenerys?" Visenya questioned, remembering the woman's name but still lacking all knowledge of her.
Rhaenys nodded — she could feel it as she continued brushing and combing through her hair with her fingers. "You're of the same height, though she's a little less slight of build than you are. Truly, the two of you could pass as sisters more so than you and I could, twins, possibly. Your voices are equally as soft, your eyes, your hair, your cute shy demeanour."
It couldn't be helped. Visenya felt her cheeks colour at the heaps of praise Rhaenys tossed her way. In that regard, the Princess truly was like the Queen. Neither ever stopped admiring her beauty, her manners, anything and everything. It felt as if she could be covered in mud, clothed in leather and animal skins, and the two would point out that she looked the part of a Wildling Princess.
The example might be far-fetched, 'tis true, but it was how she felt.
Suddenly, Visenya yawned as the weariness of the day and the relaxing sensation of Rhaenys' efforts began to affect her.
"Tired?" Rhaenys questioned, that smile still in her tone as one of her deft hands switched to Visenya's shoulders. It alternated between kneading and applying the perfect amount of pressure to please her.
"I'll return the favour," Visenya said, yawning again as soon as the words had parted from betwixt her pretty lips. Her hand that had been clutching Rhaenys' silk-soft hair dropped the strands and reached further back so that the older girl might deposit the brush in her grasp.
She didn't. Instead, Visenya felt herself be pulled backwards, her eyes staring up into Rhaenys' as she looked down at her with a grin on her face. "Another time, 'Senya," Rhaenys said, eyeing her clothing. "We'll change into our nightgowns and sleep until it's time to sup with Aegon, Mother and Father… I know you'll not tell me sans my asking, but do you mind cuddling? I've always preferred sleeping with another warm body next to my own."
I don't wish to be here, cuddling is the least of my concern, Visenya—Marna wished to say as her internal duel returned as her mind grew weary.
"No," was the word she said aloud to answer Rhaenys' question. "I like it."
Rhaenys beamed down at her. "I love you, little sister. I still can't believe you're here."
There was a knock at the door before Rhaenys could continue, and it was clear that she wished to with her mouth open as it was. She paused, her eyes darting to the door, and before Visenya knew it, the covers were over the pair of them, and it was then that Rhaenys answered the person that knocked.
"Who is it, Ser Jonothor?"
There was a man's voice that responded, deep and at that same time, surprisingly sweet in tone. "Prince Aegon wishes to enter, Princess."
Rhaenys groaned, though not loud enough for it to be heard by those that were not in the room. "He wants to steal you away from me," she said to Visenya in that familiar petulant, whine-like tone of voice as her arms tightened around Visenya's chest. "I know I'm your favourite, but I suppose we must please Mother — send him in, Ser Jonothor."
The man didn't respond, and the door to their temporary chambers opened. The Prince dressed in casual wear that looked as soft as the sheets entered, and the door closed very shortly thereafter, a flicker of light from the hall briefly illuminating his hair in a way that made it look as if it had been glowing.
"Sisters," the Prince said, eyeing the pair of them under the covers with a scrutinizing look that Visenya didn't care for. "Were you intent on resting so early?"
"We're tired," Rhaenys shot back, to which Visenya nodded; it was minimal, for if she did so with any real effort, her head would have banged into the taller girl's chin.
"And you didn't think to invite me?" Aegon said back in jest as he moved towards the corner of the room where the wine was. "Would you care for a cup, Visenya? I know if I partake, Rhaenys surely will."
"We're trying to rest, Aegon. Say what you think you must and come back after we've risen," Rhaenys said, injecting a forcefulness in her voice that Visenya hadn't heard before. Not throughout all of their time travelling together.
It made her squirm in discomfort. Any manner of confrontation was something that Visenya deeply despised, that rang true when she had been nought but Marna and it still continued to be true. There was something about arguments that filled her with dread and unease moreso than even violence ever had.
Aegon's brows rose, and he looked as amused as he looked irritated, at that moment. "Need I remind you that she's our sister, sister? You've kept her to yourself despite what Mother and Father wish, and I wish to get to know her as well as you already seem to. That's not a very large ask, is it?"
Visenya burrowed further into Rhaenys' side, wishing that the conflict between the two would falter. She hadn't thought the two Targaryen siblings would be so volatile towards one another, not in a family that oft married brother to sister; that was a thought that seldom left her head too, for it was a future that she greatly wished to avoid.
"Fine, you'll have until she falls asleep — knowing how dull your company is, that'll not last very long," Rhaenys' words seemed to hold some sort of double meaning, for Aegon practically growled in response at her.
That stopped as soon as he straightened his back, exhaled and fixed his eyes back on what little of Visenya remained visible beyond the sheets of the bed.
"How are you?" Aegon asked.
Rhaenys snorted at his question but remained quiet. As far as questions went, 'how are you' was so very normal, and yet, after everything that had happened in less than a sennight, a question that didn't feel as if it should have been asked; did he think she'd spill her internal struggles?
"I am well," Visenya responded, peering at the Prince from the cover of Rhaenys' body and the sheets. "And you, P- Aegon?"
Unlike the case of Rhaenys, Visenya's mind still thought of him as 'the Prince' and not as Aegon or brother. The Queen was more complex, for the woman seemed to be able to flip a lever and shift her personality based on the situation, Rhaenys was similar, though she hadn't mastered such an ability yet.
"I'm very good. Are you eager to see King's Landing?" he took a few steps closer, three cups of wine betwixt his two hands. "Rhaenys and Mother decorated your room before we made for Winterfell to find you. You'll like it, I hope."
"She will," Rhaenys couldn't help but say, earning a very brief burst of laughter from Visenya.
Aegon rolled his eyes, leaned forward, and handed a cup to Rhaenys. When the older girl reached for a second for Visenya, he withdrew, not allowing her to take it from him. It was clear what his intentions were. He wished for Visenya to take it herself, and with a look from Rhaenys, one that was encouraging towards her whilst disapproving towards Aegon when she looked over at him, Visenya did as he wished.
Slowly, she rose up, allowing the covers to fall towards the centre of her torso as one dainty hand as pale as his grabbed for the cup. Aegon smiled wide when their hands brushed and as soon as her grip was firm, he relinquished his.
"Thank you," Visenya said politely, dipping her head as she pushed back so that she could sit up and sip at the sweet-smelling wine.
"Of course, sweet sister," Aegon said with that smile still in place, showing off his dimples and the dashing quality that so many others associated him with. In Visenya's eyes, he was a bit slight of frame similar to the King, and vaguely confrontational, as Rhaenys had said.
She would be careful around him.
"Oh, right — yes, I look forward to seeing King's Landing," Visenya answered, remembering his question and finally speaking her answer with words she hoped the two would like. "The heat might not agree with me, but I don't believe it will be sweltering. Elia seemed to think it would be pleasing."
"It's not horrible, though I dare say Dorne would be far more challenging for you and me both. Rhaenys doesn't mind it, but our complexions are fairer than hers, and the sun will leave us red and tired," Aegon shook his head as if a memory that wasn't overly fond struck him. He did away with it easily enough, his smile returning. "She spoke to you about the Water Gardens, did she not?"
"She did," Visenya said cautiously, hopeful that he wouldn't insist on taking her to them.
As it turned out, she needn't worry with Rhaenys nearby. "Visenya would enjoy the sight, but bathing outdoors or communally is not something she would be fond of. We discussed Dorne at length with Mother on the journey to White Harbour."
"My apologies," Aegon said, the words directed at Visenya and skipping Rhaenys. "I suppose it might seem strange. There isn't so much focus on a person's body or name in Dorne. It's liberating, in truth. Sunspear would make for a better capital."
"Would you wish it ruined?" Rhaenys said with a scoff.
"Has anyone claimed the honour of giving you a tour once we're home, 'Senya?" Aegon asked, skipping Rhaenys' words as he moved closer still, sitting upon the bed in such a way that he was nearly touching her legs.
Visenya shook her head. "I had thought the Queen might… she said something to that effect and promised that Rickon would not be kept far."
"Rickon?" Aegon inquired with furrowed brows.
"Rickon Stark, brother," Rhaenys said, exasperated as she emptied her cup in one fell swoop. "I would have thought you would know his name. He's to be our guest, and mayhaps one day a member of the Kingsguard. If not, I expect he'll find himself knighted before he returns to the North. He would like that, wouldn't he?"
Rhaenys' words had the effect of bringing Bran and Rickon both to the forefront of her mind. Mayhaps she had made a comment in passing one day, spoke in her sleep or the older girl had simply guessed that the Northern boys were similar to the Southron ones. It didn't matter, for Visenya smiled and moved slightly closer to Rhaenys, content with the girl as happy memories flooded her.
"He and Bran both would. They each wished to be a Knight, and Bran oft dreamed of being a Kingsguard the likes of Ser Duncan the Tall," Visenya couldn't help but grin at the thought; Ser Bran and Ser Rickon, her loyal guardians.
If only they were older and she was more fortunate.
"We could make that happen, I'm sure," Aegon said, jumping at the opportunity. "I could ask that Rickon be made my squire if it pleases you. The time fast approaches that I need one and if he wishes to be made a Knight someday soon, the earlier he starts, the better."
"He's but a child, dolt," Rhaenys said, unimpressed at such an offer.
Aegon shrugged. "I didn't say he would be at risk — he would learn only what our Master-at-Arms says, and I would have him learn with me and the best swordsmen of the Realm. Few boys claim to learn from the best and fewer mean it, and by the time he turns six and ten, he'd make for one of the finest swordsmen in all of Westeros."
Visenya allowed herself a moment to picture that. Bran, her naturally aggressive, willful and strong baby brother turned into a man of six and ten, filled out and powerful, dangerous and well-rounded… yes, she would be very happy for him. All of his dreams would come true and he would find himself a wife faster than most despite his position as a third son.
"If he were safe and learned slowly, I believe it would do him well," Visenya said, her mind tacking on silently later; it's better than allowing him to rot in some room with those that care not for him or his future.
"It's settled then," Aegon said, a touch of smugness in his tone as he looked over at Rhaenys, the girl rolling her eyes. Aegon moved closer again, shifting towards Visenya. "Tell me, sister, have you trained with a sword before? I admit I haven't had the chance to learn about your past, but I'd like to."
His tone and his eyes made her wince. He seemed as if he were interested in her, or mayhaps her mind was simply forcing her to see it that way. It was no lie that she was hyper-focused on the Targaryen family and all that came with it since they had 'freed' her from the Stark captors. There would be much she would have to adjust to, but marrying a brother or uncle was something she would refuse to do.
They could claim it was their history and culture as they wished, but it was not hers. She was not raised as a Targaryen, she would be one in name only, for her mannerisms and mindset would always be of the North. Nothing would ever change that.
"I've let arrows fly and handled a sword on occasion. My brother Robb, h—" Visenya paused, trailing off as her eyes widened and then she quickly stammered. "Cousin Robb, I mean no offence. I… it is hard to think of him as a cousin instead of sibling after so many years."
Rhaenys' grip around her tightened. "It will take some time to change the habit, I'm sure, but we'll not get as annoyed as Father, isn't that right, Aegon?" the girl's voice was challenging and pointed.
Aegon slowly nodded, though Visenya could make out a sour expression on his face. It likely stemmed from the fact that she called Rhaenys, well, Rhaenys and he was oft 'Prince', 'the Prince' or 'Prince Aegon'.
A few minutes later, and after awkward attempts at another conversation, the trio were called for an early supper. Aegon was forced from the room by Rhaenys, the girl as fierce as ever when she urged him away so the two could change in privacy.
Visenya couldn't help but smile at that exchange despite her earlier discomfort; they could act so similar to Robb and Arya, it was uncanny.
She swallowed, her eyes wide and her mind in awe as she saw the vision that was King's Landing. The journey had gone by without incident, there had been no pirates or Leviathans, no Krakens or other sea monsters, and there hadn't even been a particularly rough day on the sea. The water was calm, the weather was beautiful and those that travelled with them claimed it was by divine intervention. The Seven or the Old Gods, whichever the person believed in, had seen the Targaryen family to shore safely.
"You look stunned," Rhaenys whispered, the older girl's lips brushing against her left ear whilst Elia, the Queen, was to Visenya's right with their hands connected; the two women wished to keep her nearby at all times.
The King and the Prince were on either side of the two women, making for a row of Targaryen Royalty with her at the very centre of it.
"I've not seen anything as large as this," Visenya stammered as she viewed the hundreds of ships and boats filled with fishermen or goods, the gigantic walls of the city, the towers and buildings that were viewable despite the walls, and finally, the Red Keep that Rhaegar had pointed out.
It was seated high up, offering what she could only imagine was a view of the sea and surrounding land for leagues. If she had thought White Harbour to be beautiful with a view like no other, she had thought wrong.
"We'll be docked soon," King Rhaegar said, leaning forward so that he could see Visenya. "Welcome home, Visenya — the bells will ring from when first we step off the ship and they'll not stop until the evening. I would have had them ring when you were born had you been here, as they were for Rhaenys and Aegon."
"It was wise of you to bolster the City Watch, Father," Rhaenys said then, a noise like no other finally reaching their ears the nearer to the docks they grew.
To Visenya's ears, it sounded like thousands of people roaring and yelling, all vying for attention. White Harbour had been loud and overwhelming, and she could only imagine as they ascended in their carriages to the Red Keep itself, the noise would make her mad.
"The safety of our family knows no cost of gold," Rhaegar responded before he straightened up. "We'll feast tonight, my children. We'll feast on the morrow too, and the Tourny will be announced the same day we announce Visenya to the realm. Words cannot express — truly they cannot — how thankful I am to have you here with us, Visenya. This feels as if it's the sweetest of dreams and I wish never to wake from it."
Elia cooed and pressed a kiss against his cheek, and a moment later, against Visenya's. "We are whole," she said softly, sniffling as her eyes turned red once more.
Mayhaps to them, the sight of King's Landing ensured that everything had truly happened. For Visenya, that sight had been White Harbour, or possibly the moment when Winterfell was no longer visible. In truth, there was still a large portion of her mind that had her convinced all that had happened thus far, was a dream. None of it was real, the Targaryens were not there with her.
That dream, however, was one she would not wake up from.
Visenya stayed quiet as they drew closer, the ship nearly at the docks. Elia had schooled her features, the King still looked as regal and confident as he always did, and her siblings seemed very happy to be back at King's Landing. Rhaenys' grasp grew tighter, though not uncomfortably so.
"Finally," the older girl whispered as the crew moved all about, the ship reaching its final destination.
As they did so, the noise of the gathered Small Folk grew louder. Visenya saw dozens, possibly hundreds of men dressed in the familiar black and red armour of House Targaryen keeping the common folk at bay. Those men dressed in their fine plate were joined by others who were dressed in black armour with golden cloaks, the occasional Targaryen sigil on specific cloaks of men.
There were two dozen between the two groups that were standing on the docks as a sort of bridge was laid down. Around the Royal Family were six men, all of whom were dressed in the Kingsguard armour, silent and with their hands on the hilts of their swords — she had never seen all six of those who had journeyed in one spot, standing as close as they were to her.
"Come, children," Rhaegar said, his tone confident and joyful in a way that belied his age.
Visenya watched as he moved forward, Elia's arm looping through his as the King and Queen left the ship. As they did so, those that were nearby and had a view of them cheered louder, yelling out many praises with the occasional plea for food or gold. The stench of hit grew when Visenya was urged forward by Aegon and Rhaenys, the two moving to either side of her.
The sea, as it had turned out, had done much to curb the stench of waste that emanated from the capital. Visenya's nose wrinkled for a myriad of reasons as they continued, the eyes of tens and thousands of people, mayhaps even hundreds and thousands, falling on her; the scale was truly immeasurable.
"As soon as we're off the dock we'll be in a carriage, sister," Rhaenys said, noting the awe — a common occurrence by now — on Visenya's face as she took in the assault upon her senses by way of the city and its inhabitants.
"Is it far?" Visenya responded, nodding towards the Red Keep at the pinnacle of the city.
"Not very — we'll be safe and home before you know it," Rhaenys answered.
"We can leave the windows of the carriage closed too. You needn't look at the crowd or address them. Father is loved by many, unsurprisingly. They wish to pay their respects for all that he's done for them," Aegon gestured toward where Rhaegar and Elia were, the two waving to the crowd with their guards around them. "I don't believe he'll make us so much as wave to those that assembled."
Whilst it felt rude, Visenya was very thankful. The Small Folk weren't wicked or uncouth by the look of them, in fact, many waved little tokens of affection for the Royal Family. Another time, in the future that was, perhaps she'd journey throughout all of King's Landing and witness that hospitality personally.
It would need to be many a moon before that happened. Visenya looked away from the crowd, the soldiers, the sailors and all else save for the members of House Targaryen. Quickly, and with Rhaenys' assistance, she entered a familiar-looking carriage and tucked herself towards the centre of it as her siblings piled in after her. Aegon, the last to enter, closed the door and went so far as to bar it.
"Mother and Father will ride in the carriage ahead of ours," he said in explanation when Visenya looked at him queerly. "May I say, sister, you look the epitome of svelte today."
"That's a fanciful word from you," Rhaenys said, rolling her eyes as she threw an arm around Visenya's shoulders only seconds before their carriage started off, the colours only just visible through the window nearest to her changing rapidly.
"What's that?" Visenya asked, curiosity lacing her tone as she spied a gigantic, ornate-looking building visible over the smaller homes and constructs.
"The Sept of Baelor — it's atop your hill. On the other, if you can see it, is the Dragonpit atop my hill. It's decrepit and ruinous and was last used when our family had dragons. It's been left to rot on account of the lack of our sigil's presence... well, it had been. Father's kept us away from it, but so long as I could remember, he's had labourers tending to the place," Rhaenys pointed out, her voice with that familiar Princess-like quality the older girl could interject whenever she so wished to.
"The Red Keep is atop my hill," Aegon added, including himself and earning a shake of the head from Rhaenys.
My hill?
"Why are they ours exclusively? I didn't study King's Landing, it wasn't necessary," Visenya's latter sentence wasn't planned, but upon the looks that she received from her siblings, she added it. They likely already thought her uneducated as well as underfed — which Rhaenys had let slip — the last thing they needed to believe was that she was simple.
It would be very bad if that happened.
"You've learned of our namesakes, haven't you?" Aegon asked.
She nodded. King's Landing was spoken of in passing and with distaste in the North, the original Targaryens, however, were a tale that children throughout Westeros seemed to enjoy. It was easy to picture one's self as a conqueror that united a continent. Her mind had been combed for knowledge when first she learned of her name, for if she were Visenya, and the others were named after Aegon and Rhaenys…
Her fears weren't without justification.
"The one with the Sept on it is Visenya's hill, the one with the Dragonpit is Rhaenys' hill, and the tallest with which the Red Keep lies atop, is Aegon's hill. There's a street between them known as the Street of the Sisters — we entered through the Iron Gate, for reference. We'll actually briefly be upon that street before we turn and head towards the Keep," Aegon explained, knowledgeable as he recited the city as if he were looking at a map whilst Rhaenys toyed with her hair in a manner that was incredibly comforting.
Between the efforts of her two siblings, Visenya seldom glanced out of the mostly-covered window and blocked out the noise of the crowd as it grew with every passing moment the further they went before finally lowering in noise. When it did grow quieter and their conversations about King's Landing halted abruptly, Rhaenys smiled in unison with Aegon. It was a rare moment where a jibe was not traded as the two looked at her.
"We've reached the barbican," Aegon said.
"It's the main entrance to the Red Keep," Rhaenys said despite the fact that Visenya knew as much. "Once we're through, we're well and truly home. We might exit the carriage and walk on foot, or perhaps we'll skip the courtyard altogether. In truth, it's not very pretty."
"The larger courtyard, we have a more private smaller one that you must reach by way of the serpentine steps. It's near the Maidenvault and Royal Sept… and the Tower of the Hand," Aegon's final remark made him grimace, and Rhaenys scowl.
Visenya, meanwhile, was overwhelmed moreso than she already had been. The place was incredibly large, far larger than Winterfell and White Harbour combined. How anybody could live with so much space and such grand architecture was beyond her comprehension. It felt as if the place was made for the giants of Old Nan's stories.
At the memory of the old woman she'd like never see again, a small, fleeting smile flashed across her face as lightning would during a storm.
"The Tyrells," Visenya suddenly said, snapping back to attention when neither sibling spoke. "Are they not friends of the Royal Family?"
"Of our family, and not entirely. Suffice it to say, they're ambitious beyond their station and oft seek out Aegon's hand or mine own for marriage," Rhaenys said, disdain marring her otherwise pretty features.
"They'll try their hand for Visenya too, you know that as well as I do, sister," Aegon said. There were elements of emotions that she couldn't pick up when he spoke and it made her furrow her brow whilst she spied between the two Targaryens.
At that same time, a feeling of unease bubbled up from the pit of her stomach. She didn't wish to spend time with the Tyrells anymore than she had wished to be whisked away from the temperate climate and loving family in the North. They had brought her to a place where those who came did not always leave, and now she would have to play their game and navigate through a court filled with honourless Southron Nobles.
Rhaenys' grip tightened to a near painful extent, as it had when first they'd slept together. "The Tyrells can try as they'd like. I'll not leave Visenya alone for them to prey upon, and Father has already said he'll not allow anybody to sup with her until she's comfortable. If they try, they risk angering him."
"Even with the food grown in the Crownlands and imported from Dorne and Essos, we still rely on them for a good deal of our imports," Aegon warned, clearly not as eager for a confrontation as Rhaenys seemed to be. "We'll need to be wise, but, lest you think me a coward or Green, yes. We'll not let them engage with Visenya."
The girl in question blinked, made to open her mouth, but Rhaenys cursed and huffed. "We didn't get to point out the Throne Room or the Great Guest Hall, we've already passed them. Apologies, sister."
"That answers your question," Aegon mused, raising his hands in mock surrender when Rhaenys narrowed her eyes at him. "Father likely intends for us to ride straight to Maegor's Holdfast without another stop."
"I hope that means we'll run over those flowery soldiers if need be. It would not be unlike Mace Tyrell to 'forget' himself and continue with his blubbering act of the fool so that he might earn himself and his family a glance at Visenya. I wish Father would send him and Tywin to their homes and bring truly loyal followers to court," Rhaenys all but growled.
Aegon, meanwhile, shrugged. "Lord Tywin is better to have close by where the Spider can keep a careful watch of whatsoever he does. Mace, I think the opposite of you. He doesn't act the part of a fool, he is a fool. The Grandmaester is similar if he thinks we buy into his act of a decrepit old man soon to meet the end of his days."
"If only we were so lucky," Rhaenys scowled.
And their journey continued, the two pointing out much and more until the time came for them to reach Maegor's Holdfast, the Kingsguard and Household Guard following them as the City Watch remained behind to keep away the many servants and guests that had vied for a view of her.
Aegon and Rhaenys had even tried to point out the Tyrells, or rather, a very large Tyrell. Visenya had not managed to see him or many others on account of her position tucked between her two taller, more filled-out siblings, least of all with one of the men of the Kinsguard behind her.
Even if her eyes had managed to seek out those they wished to point out, they were unseeing, for she was stricken by the site of the innards of the Red Keep. Maegor's Holdfast especially made for a wonderful view, and the dry moat that surrounded it filled her with intrigue.
This would be her new home or her new prison. Perhaps it was left for her to decide which would ring true.
Chapter 4: The Games Begin
Notes:
This story is written for two people very close to me - you know who you are - and I thank them so much for their continued friendship and assistance. I'm unsure of the update schedule for this fic, I'll be gone before too long, but I hope to continue to write and post whensoever I can find the time to do so. I'm also still currently on the hunt for a Beta.
Marna/Visenya = Female Jon Snow, the other characters should be self-evident. Thank you and have a wonderful day!
Feel free to join my Discord for updates, giveaways (for those who actively chat), early access and information, link on my profile. Without any more preamble from me, I hope you enjoy the story!
Chapter Text
The juxtaposition between Aegon and Rhaenys had never been more immense than it was now. Visenya's two siblings already had striking differences in attitude, personality and looks, and yet, within her first few moments being within, Aegon seemed more at ease and free-acting than Visenya had known him to be across the entirety of the trip she'd spent in his company. Rhaenys' personality had yet to change, but Visenya suspected that would not hold indefinitely, for King's Landing and the South generally had a corrupting effect that every Northerner spoke of oft whensoever the South was mentioned, be it passingly or in great detail. While her mind might doubt what her father-uncle Ned had said, how could so many be wrong to such a significant effect?
Simply put, they could not. Visenya doubted so many of her kin and countrymen would speak falsely about her new home.
"Mother," Rhaenys said, speaking up as the royal family loitered at the very entrance of Maegor's Holdfast with dozens of guards still accompanying them; nearly all of the Kingsguard were present too. "Might I be the one to show Visenya to her quarters? I believe it would be proper, especially with her chambers practically being adjoined to mine own."
"Do as you wish — within reason — daughter," Elia said jovially, her eyes not once settling on Rhaenys; they were only for Visenya, and within them was disbelief and utter joy to a point that looked blissful. "I have said it oft, my sweet girl. This time, truly, welcome home."
Visenya dipped her head politely to the Queen. The woman had been ever so kind to her, and not once had she pressured Visenya into doing anything. If not for the Queen, the trip, the conversations, and how she felt about House Targaryen in general, all would be far more negative and thoughts about escape however costly they could prove to be would be the first thing on her mind. And yet, Visenya knew to do so was condemning the North and House Stark specifically, to a fate she could not so much as think for a moment about.
"You speak truly, my Queen," Rhaegar said as he stepped beside his wife and grasped her hand in his, the tumb of it caressing the back of the woman's slight hand. "I can envision no sweeter sight than our children together in their home, where they should be."
"We should send for little Daenerys. It would feel as if the Red Keep is populated once more," Elia said to Rhaegar, her eyes, still as of yet unmoving, focused on Visenya and the Princess that stood next to her.
Daenerys is the King's little sister… he has a brother too, one that most mention seems to be oft without a care in the world and lustful to such a point that the Imp of House Lannister pays tribute to him. I would not like to meet Father's — King Rhaegar's — brother.
Visenya was pulled from her thoughts by a hand, soft, but strong, and very incessant. It was of little surprise that the hand in question belonged to her older sister, half-sister, cousin or perhaps simply a kidnapper; Rhaenys Targaryen. The girl had proven to be as kind as her mother when it came to Visenya, but with Aegon, there was jealousy and possessiveness when it came to Visenya's time. Even with others, Rhaenys was cool or dismissive, and her eyes stayed only on Visenya and her person.
Truly, Visenya was lucky to bathe, dress and use the loo on her own. Those were but the only instances in which she had only her mind and her body — all others involved Rhaenys, even sleeping, lounging or walking atop the boat.
"You'll love everything here," Rhaenys said as they started away from the main group, two Kingsguard and a half dozen men in Targaryen-style armour following after them in silence save for the clanking of plate armour. "There's much history here if it interests you, and if it doesn't, fuck the history — the garden, the godswood, the various balconies and sights that one might enjoy… whatsoever you might wish for will be yours."
Visenya shrugged. She doubted she could wish away the internal confrontations and struggles about who she was, and she doubted further that she could wish to return to the North, where she preferred to be. The stench of waste, muck and other scents did not linger whence she came from, and the men, they had not the stares that those in the South had. It was improper, and the dresses she wore that were from the far larger Rhaenys still made her feel as if she were nude before them. It was unfathomable when Visenya heard that some Southron women walked around in such sheer clothing on account of the heat that the menfolk could make out every detail of their bodies; she would never do so.
"Is it overwhelming you?" Rhaenys asked, pausing. The men that were trailing behind them paused in sync with her as Rhaenys slid an arm around Visenya's waist and pulled the younger, smaller lithe girl into her side. "I apologise, my 'Senya. I've just… I've thought about your first day here so many times. What I would show you, what we would do together, how we would sup on whatever took our fancy, how we would bathe with the view of Blackwater Bay as the ships sailed past on journeys unending," Rhaenys sighed, her face suddenly tentative and unsure. "The fault is mine."
She shook her head at the older girl and placed her left hand on the hand that was wrapped around her waist. The fault laid not with Rhaenys, but with Visenya herself, for she was still tired from the journey and her mind had not rested once throughout the entirety of the trip. When sleep claimed her for the few hours it did every night, her mind was haunted with visions of the North, of the Starks, of a woman in a bloody bed, of swords that clanged together, and of a tower with felled men standing a silent, bloody vigil.
Suffice to say, sleep was but the one luxury she had yet to receive or be offered all that much in the last days of her trip to King's Landing. Perhaps it was the suffering, oppressive anxiety that one felt when they were pulled into a completely strange and new environment, or perhaps she was a Targaryen, and it took but a push from her 'family' for the madness that had been within her to gush out as a geyser might.
"I'm tired," Visenya finally said, her eyes staring into Rhaeny's matching set after a long silence. "It is not your fault. This all interests me. I would just like to rest, if you might show me to the Chambers you're to give to me."
Rhaenys shook her head when Visenya finished speaking and spoke even as she started them off on their trip once more. "I'm not giving them to you, and Mother and Father aren't either. Those chambers have always been yours, little sister. It is as I said before when first we met," Rhaenys' gaze fell to Visenya's, an intensity, no, a fire burning within the sockets of her eyes. "We have known you've existed, we simply had to find you, and now that we have, we're whole. I don't believe in the Seven, but upon resting as you said, I believe I will light a candle in the Sept as thanks nonetheless. If you'd show me, I would pray in the Godswood with you too."
Visenya blinked at Rhaenys, and then she couldn't help it, she smiled. The words were very fitting with the girl she had come to know and her kindness matched that of the Queen. It was as Visenya first thought when the sight of the Red Keep, and more specifically, Maegor's Holdfast, greeted her eyes.
This was to be her prison or her home, and it was for her to decide which would ring true. Mayhaps both would ring true for a time, but if they would not let up and she was free to do as she liked, save for returning to the North… she would have to make it a home.
With that thought in mind, Visenya allowed Rhaenys to lead her through the maze-like halls of the holdfast until a chamber was reached and she was urged within; for the first time since she had laid eyes on a Targaryen, Visenya slept alone.
It was some time later when Visenya rose from her rest, refreshed physically whilst her mind remained drained, by and large. Queer as it might be to say, Visenya had found it both exceedingly difficult to rest and to find comfort alone in the oversized bed despite the comfort and quality of it, the sheets, and the pillows. Rhaenys' company, which the older girl had insisted on, had spoiled her, and there would be a period of time that needed to pass before she grew comfortable with sleeping alone.
Visenya did hope it would pass by quickly and sans issues. The thought of tossing and turning upon the comfortable sheets, of staring at strange walls, stranger artwork or listening to birdsong until she allowed sleep to claim her was discouraging.
I wonder how long I was allowed to rest, she thought as she swung her legs out from under the warmth of the sheets. The carpets of varying designs and softness that greeted her feet were strange, with an almost false feeling in the comfort they provided. They did not come close to matching the furs of the North in any regard.
She would have to request and very politely at that, to have animal furs and pelts provided to replace the carpets that littered the ground. The designs were odd and overly ornate, whereas the beauty of nature and animals was absolute and unparalleled. It would seem the Southron people lacked any sort of taste if they felt the need to be so gaudy in apparel, architecture and furniture amongst other fields of craft.
Visenya huffed in distaste and moved over to the wardrobe that Rhaenys had pointed out in the brief and hastily given tour that she'd given before Visenya dove atop the bed. As Visenya suspected, it was filled to the brim with clothing of various sizes with writing in the common tongue that distinguished what builds were where within the wardrobe that could very well fit twelve of her body within. The majority of the clothes within were… lacklustre, perhaps that word was not correct. They were beautiful, the vast majority of them, but most were lacking in the skin that they would cover or in the thickness of the fabric. That was something that Visenya wasn't fond of.
There was a series of knocks, which, she wouldn't admit with pride, startled her enough so that she jumped when they sounded from the door to her new chambers. After a few seconds and when the knocks ceased, a man's voice rang out.
"Princess Visenya, Princess Rhaenys has come to visit," he said.
Silence. The door didn't open, and nothing else happened. Visenya had expected there to be more words that followed, anything, mayhaps the simple fact that she would enter or maybe an inquiry as to what she wished the man to do about Rhaenys' visit, but there was well and truly nothing that was added onto the man's sentence.
Thus, thenceforth, she waited for a new development whatsoever it might be. Visenya would wait in vain for a minute, perhaps slightly more or less, when the man spoke again.
"Princess Visenya, if you have risen, Princess Rhaenys has come to visit you," he said, again, his voice louder and with extra words added on; they seemed to know that she had slept. If they were expecting her to rise, however, she suspected she'd rested for longer than she'd thought she had; it was still bright out, so it was hard to tell, in truth.
Visenya swallowed nothing save for the saliva in her mouth and raced away from the wardrobe that had caught her interest. The dresses within did not fit her fancy, nor would any, she suspected. What she wore at the present would have to suffice, and so she moved in a near sprint to the door, whereupon reaching it, she opened it — after unbarring it — and peaking her head out, one eye concealed by her long, flowing hair that matched that of Rhaegar and Aegon.
Rhaenys was standing directly before her, and beside Rhaenys and on each side of the girl, were two men in the Kingsguard armour. They stood silently, imposingly, and to Visenya, menacingly; one was to be her guard at all times, and likely her captor if they thought she might flee.
"You are awake," Rhaenys said with a teasing lilt to her voice as she looked at Visenya. "I had thought you might be asleep, and if you were, I apologise for having woken you from your slumber. It wouldn't do if you missed your first supper with our family and it will soon be upon us, I suspect. I came to visit you before such a time came about, may I…?"
Visenya blinked, nodded, and stepped back and away from the door. Rhaenys pushed her way into the room within seconds, and the door was promptly closed and barred behind her. There wasn't so much as a word exchanged with the men that stood outside, and Visenya felt a flash of annoyance flash through her. It was not to be directed at any other person, for it was her own fault; she had not spoken to the man that had tried to address her twice. Manners dictated that she apologise.
"Might I guess that the dresses we'd originally picked out for you don't tickle your fancy?"
"They are," Visenya paused, her brows knitting together in a manner that was oft remarked to look adorable by others despite her complaints. She tried to find the words to answer Rhaenys, but the girl nodded knowingly, no words being required from Visenya for her meaning to get across.
"I had thought they might be too sheer or slight for your preference. You possess a beautiful body from the little I've seen of it, little sister, and were I you, I would flaunt it — I mean not to speak wickedly, nor do I suggest you should do so. You're simply beautiful, is what I mean to say, and it is surprising in a world such as ours that beauty is respected rather than used as a means to an end," Rhaenys gestured to the door. "When you wish it, we will go and retrieve a dress from my room. You'll find one that befits your standards, I'm sure."
Visenya ignored the remarks about her 'beauty' or how she didn't use it as others might and simply nodded in thanks at Rhaenys' offer. It would make her feel at ease at a time such a thing was sorely needed.
"Rhaenys?"
The older girl turned to look at Visenya and cocked her head to the side. "What is it?"
"When will the announcement be common knowledge?" Visenya asked, unease filling her as her mind suddenly shifted to such a train of thought. "You made mention earlier of House Tyrell amongst others. Will I be required to meet with them soon? On the morrow or in the coming week?"
"If you don't wish it, no. I would tell Father that you will do so on your own time, be it a moon, three moons or until your eighteenth nameday, should you wish it. As I said, you are my little sister, my sweet 'Senya — we have finally found you, and nothing will ruin that or come between us, this, I promise you," Rhaenys pulled Visenya into her arms, and the latter girl didn't resist.
The warmth of her older sister and the affection therein felt positively wonderful.
Rhaenys had done as she said, which came as no surprise to Visenya, The older girl had yet to break her word and as such, Visenya found herself in a dress that kept her modest and comfortable, and still did away with much of the Southron heat that Visenya already despised to the uttermost. If only winter came, and fast, for she doubted the time would ever come in which she would enjoy the inhospitable weather and the overwhelming heat of the sun; her fair skin would burn and turn to the colour of a tomato before too long.
Fortunately, she could stay indoors, hidden away from the many criminals of the South and the Nobles that would seek to use her as nought but a broodmare for their progeny. Visenya would geld the first man that attempted to lay with her, and her ability with the sword after training so long in the North, she imagined, would be more than up for the task against the Southron men. They were far slighter and smaller in build than the men of the North, Aegon and Rhaegar too.
Robb and her Father-Uncle Ned would beat the other two in a battle of strength in seconds.
"Here?" Visenya asked more steel and confidence in her voice than she felt as she came across a door with four men standing guard before it.
"Yes, Princess," the Kingsguard, Ser Jonothor Darry, her assigned Kingsguard, said. The six men behind him remained silent; they were men assigned to her 'personal guard' and were considered amongst the best of House Targaryen's standing guard. They were one of the few families that had a standing, prepared army, however small it might be.
Likely because they were among the only ones that could afford to do so. Most houses had to focus on stretching their food and golden dragons to cover expenses.
"Open the door, please," Visenya said to the two men nearest to the door.
They waited, hesitation in their eyes as they looked at her. There had to be words or standing orders that contradicted her, mayhaps a warning that had been given. What exactly, Visenya did not know. She took a tentative step forward, and when she did, the man on the right side of the door slowly, trepidation clearly in his action, opened the door to the chambers she wished so very badly to enter.
Visenya did not wait a moment more, she moved quickly into the chamber and as soon as he did, her destination was within eyesight. Rickon, her baby brother, baby cousin — it needn't matter what term she used, for in her mind, he was like a baby brother to her. There was no other person in the South with her that she felt such love and care for and not one that she was half as attached to. Rickon was not particularly close to her, that had been Arya and Robb, but his presence even if it hurt for him, selfishly put her at ease; she had a purpose, and it would be to take care of him as the Targaryens tried to bring her into the family.
"Rickon," she said as the door was closed behind her, likely by the Kingsguard offering her a token show of privacy. "I have come for you," she lowered her voice, "little brother."
He had been atop the sheets of his 'new' bed in a chamber that was far larger, more ornate and had grander pieces of furniture. Of course, as she had come to know by now, comfort and wealth were not in any way a replacement for family and the affection of loved ones.
"Marna?" he asked, rubbing at his bleary eyes as his small body rose to look at her.
"Yes," she whispered — yes, she was still Marna. "It's me. You are dressed well, little brother. Very handsome. Have you eaten anything today?"
Rickon shook his head but glanced at the table near his bedside. He did so fleetingly, perhaps with enough time for his little eyes to blink twice over, and then his gaze stayed on her again, this time, unmoving. "You won't leave me again, will you?"
Marna swallowed, her throat constricting, but she couldn't shake her head to indicate no. It was not her choice, nothing from whence the Targaryens had first laid their eyes upon her had been her choice. If it had been, Rickon would have stayed in the North where he belonged despite her selfish desire to have family close; there was no reason for her ill fate to befall another person she cared about. Her Father, Ned — Uncle — well… she had her concessions had been forced, but they had not been discussed. Had the King stolen land? titles? vassals?
Mayhaps more, or something else, the truth was she would never know unless she was told.
"I wish to never leave you, little brother. We are… guests of House Targaryen. You wish to become a knight, do you not?" Marna slipped atop the covers of the bed and moved closer to Rickon. When she did so, the small boy moved to her, his smaller frame pressing immediately into her lithe build; they cuddled as the children of House Stark oft did, intertwining with one another as a pack.
"Father said I could be whatever I want."
She smiled at those words. It sounded a lot like Lord Stark.
"Is that your desire, then?" Marna messed with his hair, the shaggy, unkempt red hair atop his head moving around easily and causing him to giggle as her voice took a teasing quality. "Ser Rickon Stark — Knight of Winterfell. It has a nice ring to it, does it not?"
Rickon nodded excitedly against her. "Please!"
"Whatever you want," she said, repeating Lord Stark's words.
"I want you to stay with me," Rickon said, a victorious look on his face as he looked up at her; she grinned and shook her head, kissing the top of his hair. He was a very clever boy. It was a good thing, for from what little she knew, it would be required of him in King's Landing. There were many and more that would seek to use him, to betray him, to mu— no, her mind would not allow her to think such things.
Suffice it to say, Marna and Rickon would continue the pack tactics of House Stark. It was necessary.
Visenya had entered, and as she reclined in the bed with Rickon, it was Marna that stayed.
"Well, isn't this a sight?"
Visenya sat bolt upright and looked at the source of the voice. Rhaenys had somehow… no, Rhaenys had entered Rickon's chambers quietly. After doing so, the Princess had sat in the chair nearest to the bed, a goblet of wine in her left hand and a platter of food — fresh — on the table beside her.
Rather than respond to the other girl, Visenya's eyes fell on Rickon, her baby brother. The boy was still pressed against her, his head resting upon her bosom and his small arms wrapped around her as best they could in a way that mirrored Rhaenys' typical possessiveness. He was asleep, without care and free from the troubles that had been plaguing him since her 'Visenya' revelation.
"Quiet, please. Rickon's sleeping and I wish not to wake him," Visenya said, gesturing to the sleeping boy at her side.
Rhaenys cocked her head, amused, and then she dipped her head once. "Leave him to rest, we must sup soon. You'll need a dress and more, little sister. This is to be your first meal as Visenya, after all, and Mother will wish it to be one that is remembered and celebrated."
Must I?
There was no part of her that wished to leave her little brother. He was so content, so happy, and so safe with her.
"Visenya."
Rhaenys' one word told her that was not possible. She had to go with her, and so, with a heavy heart, Visenya slipped out from under Rickon, ensuring that his head rested atop one of the feathery pillows. If she were to leave him as was seemingly required of her, she would ensure his rest would not suffer for it. When she ensured that all would be fine with him, she moved away from the bed, her feet sliding across the carpet, until she was near Rhaenys.
"Let us not linger," she said to the older girl.
There was no reason to stay idly in Rickon's room. He would rest, and she would do what was required of her; mayhaps she'd even enjoy it once she was far enough away from her little brother.
"As you wish, little sister," Rhaenys said, standing and brushing Visenya's closer arm with a feathery touch.
And they were off, moving expediently to Rhaenys' quarters with two Kingsguard and a dozen Targaryen household guardsmen. It took but a few minutes to reach Rhaenys' quarters from Rickon's, and when they did, the door was opened, the two sisters stepped in, and it closed.
Or rather, it would have, if not for the pale, strong-looking hand that stopped it.
"Sisters," came the charming voice of Aegon, his face coming into the two girls' line of sight when he pushed open the door further, enough so that he could step into Rhaenys' room. "I have not seen you since first we arrived. I had heard that Visenya was resting, and later that she was visiting Rickon Stark — it would seem luck was with me, for I've finally found you both."
"Luck's a queer way of saying little birds, little brother," Rhaenys said sweetly, her words and the expression she wore implying there was a depth that Visenya couldn't understand in the older girl's words.
Aegon huffed, pulled the door shut behind him and promptly ignored Rhaenys, his eyes on Visenya alone. "Is it as you imagined it to be? The Red Keep, I mean. I do hope it's not stifling or intimidating. It's to be your home."
"It is beautiful, Prince Aegon, thank you," Visenya responded immediately, bowing her head in the customary way as she deferred to the ground rather than continue the intense gaze he had fixed her with.
When she finished, a frustrated noise came free from the boy's mouth. He seemed unhappy with her words, enough so that she nearly apologised for whatever had given cause to offend him. The Targaryens were a hard bunch to understand.
"Manners, baby brother," Rhaenys said with that same sweetness lacing her voice as she wrapped an arm, long and strong, around Visenya's waist. The older, stronger girl pulled the smaller one into her side and Visenya felt thankful despite the dagger of discomfort that seemed to sink into her whensoever Rhaenys forced contact with her. "Visenya was weary from our travels the same as I. Perhaps your questions might have waited until our supper."
"I wish to see her," Aegon said with a shrug, his steps loud and heavy and telling her that he was moving closer to her and Rhaenys' position.
Rhaenys huffed and her arm tightened around Visenya's waist. "Could you not wait? Are you so bothered by the fact I've gotten to know our little sister that you feel the need to intrude upon our time together?"
"If I allowed you to pass the time you claim as your own with Visenya, I would have none for myself. Visenya is as much my little sister as she is yours, moreso, perhaps, if you compare our looks," Aegon was close enough that she could see his feet, and Visenya lifted her eyes then, violet striking violet. "You know of our aunt, Daenerys, don't you?"
"I do," Visenya replied, peering at the Prince before her from the cover provided by a curtain of her long hair.
"Splendid. She's to arrive within the sennight. Daenerys does so desire to meet with her newest niece. You'll be very fond of one another, I'm sure. You two seem similar in more ways than most could imagine," Aegon smiled politely at her then, a tentative, cautious quality upon his face as he reached a hand out to grasp her free one.
Visenya stayed still, Rhaenys' arm wrapped around her waist as it was, and allowed Aegon's hand to grasp her own. It felt very different to Rhaenys'. There was a bumpy quality to the back of it as if the veins were swollen, the size of his hand was larger still than the older girl's, and the general underlying strength… it was worrying. If he so wished to overpower her and do to her as Targaryens did to their siblings, as she had been told the old King did to his Queen, she would be powerless to stop him.
When that thought struck her, Visenya shrank away from his touch and further into Rhaenys, who she determined was the lesser of the two evils. The older girl was possessive and strange, she seemed to look at her with eyes that Visenya could not oft read, but she was decidedly better than Aegon as her mind raced with Targaryen habits embedded in her mind thanks to the Starks and other Northern company she had kept.
"You startle our sister," Rhaenys said, a smug quality to her voice as she positioned herself behind Visenya's body before pulling her smaller frame against the front of her larger one. The older girl's arms wasted no time, wrapping around Visenya's body and ensuring the lithe girl was firmly embraced.
Aegon looked not at Visenya then, but at Rhaenys. "I will have words with you when next we meet for our lessons, sister."
Rhaenys shrugged. "Do as you wish."
With that, Aegon smiled one last time at Rhaenys before he moved back to the door he had entered through. When it was closed firmly behind him, Rhaenys left her position and barred it shut, ensuring no other visitors would enter sans her express permission; permission that was unlikely to be given based on her covetous nature.
"Do you dislike Aegon?" Visenya queried, the question almost getting stuck upon her lips were it not for a flash of boldness.
"Gods, no. If not for him, I doubt I would be sane," Rhaenys said immediately as she returned to Visenya, leading the girl over to two chairs that were very close together and sitting down once they reached the plush furniture. Visenya followed suit as Rhaenys continued speaking. "You must understand, we had been told many times and oft that you existed, that you were always meant to and that, without you, we would be incomplete. There is more to the story, though it is not my place to say — now that you're here, I can't find it within myself to let you be even if his desire is nought but to covet you as I've been doing."
"I don't believe I'll be leaving of my own volition for quite some time," Visenya pointed out, her tone with strings of sadness and displeasure therein.
Rhaenys smiled at her, though the look failed to reach the Princess' eyes. "We mean not to imprison you."
"But you have," Visenya said, unable to help herself; Rhaenys' arms found her again, this time tighter than before as if she feared Visenya could flee.
It was an impossible task and one that, even if she could, would not for a myriad of reasons. One of the strangest was an innate desire to learn about herself, her heritage and the truth of the matter of her lineage. Was she a Stark, a Targaryen, or nought but Marna Snow?
Marna's life had been far easier, and without the issues that she now faced as Visenya.
"How could we leave you in the North after learning about your existence?" Rhaenys asked, the words slowly leaving her mouth as her gaze intensified. The very question seemed to bother her in a manner Visenya couldn't characterize. "It would be impossible. You were always meant to be here, with us, with your family. Had you been raised with us, you would not see our ways or persons as queer. This would be your home and the North, a land with which you have a minor connection."
Visenya remained silent as her eyes went downcast. To have this conversation was pointless, for neither she nor Rhaenys would change their wants and desires. Rhaenys wished not for Visenya to be free, and Visenya wished not to be stuck in King's Landing even if she did wish to know her family and if they truly were, without a shadow of a doubt, truly her blood.
Silence save for the occasional song of a bird and whip of the wind.
"I love you, 'Senya — Father does, Mother does, Aegon does, Daenerys does," Rhaenys blinked rapidly after such words flew from her mouth. "Please do not despise us so for returning you to your home… please do not leave us, little sister."
As Rickon had done, Rhaenys buried herself into Visenya's frame.
As Visenya had done, she tried to provide the best comfort possible despite the circumstances.
The battle within her waged on as she had come to see first-hand the effects it had on Targaryen and Stark alike; it made it no easier to determine who she was, and far harder for her to decide who she wished to be. Lord Stark, if all the Targaryens had said was true, was in the wrong for taking her despite the love and life she'd had thus far. But, was it not equally wrong to take her as the Targaryens had from a home she'd known and with siblings she had been raised with?
Perhaps that question would be one that Maesters were the most qualified to answer.
"Mother and Father have huge quarters, 'Senya," Rhaenys gushed as the girl, now happier and full of that same fire Visenya was so used to seeing said as she pulled them through the maze-like halls of Maegor's Holdfast.
"All here are exceedingly large," Visenya responded as her eyes went from door to door, examining the rooms they passed. She tried to take in every last detail that she could, for the furniture was so dissimilar from the North and the ornateness of nearly every object, archway or even the doors themselves felt gaudy… though that wasn't to say every sight she saw lacked beauty.
If she were to be told this was the most expensive, most beautiful and most extravagant place in the world, she would believe it. There was still something to be said for the lack of plantlife or material from the wilderness; pelts and furs, trophies from hunts and ancient tools were just as worthy of the title art as any statue or tapestry of the south.
"We never saw your old chambers — are your new ones pleasant? Would you like changes?" Rhaenys seemed nervous or anxious. Perhaps she'd taken Visenya's comment negatively.
"All is well, you and the rest of the family have my thanks for seeing that I'm cared for with such finery and detail," Visenya said demurely, smiling at Rhaenys in a way she only hoped could convey her thanks. "If I feel I'm left wanting for anything, I will do as you said to and speak with you or Elia."
At that, Rhaenys smiled and the worries that had marred her beautiful face were washed away as dirt was by water. "Never forget we'll get you anything you desire, little sister. Mother might have said it, and if not, I will say so now or risk reiterating her words. We have years upon years to make up for, and so when next your nameday comes around, the gifts will be most lavish."
Visenya shifted uncomfortably. She was very used to receiving a few gifts, never more than five for her nameday, and those, she doubted, would be near what House Targaryen gave her.
"You needn't ge—"
"My girls!" Elia said from the archway ahead, where she stood dressed in finery that hugged her body with jewellery adorning her and her hair flowing freely, beautifully, down her back. If Rhaenys were to look as the Queen currently did when she grew up, she would never be called anything save for fair or gorgeous.
The Queen wasted no time whilst Visenya observed her, and in a scant few seconds, the woman was before the two girls. Her arms, thin and slight as Visenya's were, wrapped around the two Princesses. The embrace was tight, but not overly so, and when the woman pulled back her face was alight with love and happiness.
"Mother," Rhaenys said politely, her voice that of a Princess and less of a sister.
Visenya took notice and only just stopped herself from curtseying to the woman. "Mother," she responded seconds after Rhaenys, Elia's smile growing wider and the jovial expression nearly as bright as the sun the Dornish coveted.
"You two look beyond beautiful today," Elia said to them, her eyes rapidly blinking and a small sniffle coming from the woman. She stared at the two girls for time enough that Rhaenys felt the need to clear her throat, and afterwards, she ushered the two girls into her chambers whereupon they were greeted by the other two members of the family; Aegon and Rhaegar.
Each looked very handsome and seemed dressed in a manner that was truly befitting royalty.
"Daughters, welcome," Rhaegar said, his back straightening and his eyes matching those of Elia's; awash with happiness, the stress lines of his face gone and his shoulders sagging as if the weight of the Seven Kingdoms was no longer felt.
Aegon stayed silent, his eyes only widening for a few moments before he blinked himself back to sentience. Visenya's gown was, perhaps, more visually appealing to the menfolk than she did so enjoy. It showed the most cleavage she had ever dared to throughout the entirety of her life and that had been at the behest of Rhaenys, but still, her figure was hidden well enough away and the small clothes ensured no secrets would be sold.
"I dare say, Father, Mother, the Seven Kingdoms, the entire world — none are worthy to see Rhaenys and Visenya together," Aegon finally said, his typical 'gallant' and 'charming' qualities finally shining through his initial surprise.
"My daughters are beautiful, you speak the truth. I fear we'll need to create a Maidens guard if your reaction is anything to go by, Aegon," Elia said in jest, teasing Aegon and smiling at the two girls once more.
Rhaegar nodded once, seemingly in agreement. "Such a decision would not be without merit. The Tyrells and the Lannisters especially will try and make a play for our Visenya, and I wish not to have to handle them. It is bad enough that Lord Tywin and Lord Mace remain in the guests' quarters, for undoubtedly word has reached their ears of our newest family member."
"Tyene, Obara, Nymeria, we could trust them, Father. Uncle Oberyn, I'm sure, would also be willing to defend our honour if the need arose, especially if the Lannisters were to be involved," Rhaenys said with an almost eager tone in her voice.
The Dornish and the Westermen don't love one another, nor do the Dornish love the Reachmen, if I remember well. There are many intricacies and feuds between houses and peoples, though Father said many of the South was not a matter of importance for my studies.
Visenya squirmed. If the topic grew to encompass other Southron houses, it would be as if they were discussing topics the Maesters did so favour, for she would be without understanding.
"An idea for another time," Rhaegar said, gesturing for the two girls to come forth. "Step into the light, daughters. The flames flicker too oft for my eyes to view the beauties you have become in detail and I wish for nothing more than to see my girls together as they should have been."
Rhaenys grasped Visenya's hand, and Visenya stepped forward in sync this time rather than allowing herself to be pulled.
Rhaegar smiled upon their doing so, and he nodded, his eyes moving to Elia. The woman went over to him, took a seat beside him, and then he whispered to her something that made her smile wide and nod her head animatedly as his arm wove around her. Whatever the King had said both appeased her and made her smile once more as she looked between her children — Visenya included.
"Visenya," Elia said as the girls lingered at the edge of the table, Rhaenys rubbing soothing, comforting circles on the smaller girl's back.
"Mother?" Visenya responded, the world still feeling unnatural, and yet, when the woman smiled at her, queerly correct. It was an add combination, that was certain, but one that she knew she could grow to appreciate. The Starks had been lucky to live their lives in the presence of each parent.
"Won't you sit betwixt Rhaenys and I?" Elia padded the chair to her right and then looked at the one opposite of the one she'd just indicated. "If you'd prefer, you could sit betwixt your Father and Aegon."
Even if Visenya wished to do the latter, Rhaenys' look and Elia's joy were too wonderful to let dissipate. Still, she knew it was the King who wielded the power and eventually, Aegon that would do so in his stead. It would be unwise to stay close only to the female members of her adoptive family.
"Might I alternate?" Visenya asked, earning a curious set of gazes and one that looked vaguely wounded from her older sister.
"How do you mean?" Elia asked, cocking her head in a manner that was welcoming and without that look of betrayal that was firmly entrenched upon Rhaenys' face. In truth, it wasn't half as horrible as she made it out to be, but there was, without a doubt, a flash of annoyance or jealousy that Rhaenys seemed to feel.
"I would like to sit betwixt the four of you. Mayhaps the main course between you and Rhaenys, and dessert, between Father and Aegon… would that be allowed, my… Mother?" Visenya queried, her old instincts returning as uncertainty filled her under the attention of the four Royals. She had recovered before she said Queen, though the slip-up was obvious if one paid attention.
"You needn't permission to do something as thoughtful and sweet as that," Elia gushed, her voice with a coo-like quality as she looked at Visenya.
Rhaegar's smile grew. The King seemed pleased. "Your manners are like that of Daenerys, Visenya. I look forward to when first you meet her — Elia spoke truly too, my sweet. You needn't our permission to choose who you dine beside."
"Thank you," she responded quietly, a smile peaking out from behind a curtain of her flowing hair before she finally took to the seat Elia had first pointed out. The one set firmly between her and Rhaenys.
When she did so, it was not Aegon who rose to push her chair in, but Rhaenys. Aegon had made to stand, 'twas true, but Rhaenys had been nearer to her and did so before he had even completed the action of standing from his chair. Under the gaze of Aegon, Rhaenys went so far as to kiss Visenya's hair in the fashion she herself had done for Rickon earlier when she'd visited her baby brother.
This time, however, Aegon's look was genuinely annoyed, and risking a glance at Rhaegar and Elia, the two seemed displeased, perhaps worrisome. Visenya suspected her presence was the reason for the quarrel, for there had been no mentions that had reached her ears nor those of any Northmen that spoke of problems betwixt the Targaryen siblings.
"Wine, little sister?" Aegon asked after he swallowed, took a breath and fixed her with that smile that likely made many a maiden swoon. Were he not her brother mayhaps she would think him handsome, instead, it had little effect save for her eyebrows wrinkling together as if Robb had offered her flowers; Winter Roses were to be the only exception she would take from him.
"Yes, please," Visenya answered when Aegon blinked at her, his attention not once going to anything else.
At that, he grinned, dipped his head, and filled her glass to the brim with a smile on his face. He did the same for Rhaenys, Elia, and for Rhaegar before finally filling his own glass.
"Dornish red with a few modifications at the behest of Oberyn," Elia said when she noticed Visenya examining the liquid. "It has a touch of spice, as all things should. You'll find it tasteful if wine is your fancy, and if not, we will have a pink brew from the Reach brought from the cellars, one that many a young woman likes for its sweetness."
Visenya looked at the woman with a small dusting of red on her cheeks at being found out. She wished not to appear spoiled or ungrateful for what they had provided, only, wine was not oft something that she appreciated. In the North, it was mead and ales, and the best ale she had ever tasted had come from one of Winterfell's own brewers.
"I don't mean offence, just," Visenya nodded toward her glass. "Wine was not oft our drink of choice."
"No offence was taken, my sweet. Mayhaps if you wish it, we could have a wine-tasting day on the morrow or one of the days beyond to see which makes you find pleasing and which you wish to avoid. If you don't wish it, you need not even drink the wine before you. Rhaenys would empty it with ease, wouldn't you, gluttonous daughter mine?" Elia asked in jest, one hand reaching forward as she reached across the table to pinch at Rhaenys' cheeks.
Rhaenys, in turn, playfully slapped her mother's hand and laughed as the woman continued to toy with her teasingly. Visenya couldn't help but smile at the older woman's antics and how Rhaenys responded; Lady Catelyn and little Sansa would never have acted as these two were even if it was only family present. They always had to be the epitome of propriety no matter what. The fact that the Queen and Princess could do so with seemingly no care in the world was awe-inspiring and giggle-inducing.
"Visenya," Aegon said as Elia settled back into her seat and Rhaenys tried — and failed — to sneak a second glass of wine. "I'd like to get to know a bit more about your tastes — might I ask what your favourite dessert is? I'm sure we could have it made for you within the hour."
Visenya swallowed, unsure of how she should answer. Lady Catelyn tightly regulated the sweets intake of Sansa, Arya and herself despite the bastard status she'd had as Marna. No man would wish to have a fat wife, she would claim. Thus, they would only have sweets on nameday celebrations or special occasions in which Lord Stark would specifically say that he desired them for the family. If not for his direct intervention, they would have honeycakes or apple tarts, and seldomly, lemon cakes.
Each was a rarity and farthest from her mind, especially in remembrance of taste.
"I prefer anything with honey," she said. "Though I will say many and more desserts I have yet to taste. If you have anything you might recommend, I would be very happy to try them. I do not know if it is proper, but perhaps sweets might go with wine during the tasting?" Visenya looked at Elia and was all smiles, and when the older woman noticed her attention, she nodded.
"Wine and sweets go well, sweet girl. If you are fond of cheese and bread, they too go well with wine," Elia's smile shifted to Aegon, whereupon doing so, the woman nodded at the same time Visenya jolted in her chair at sudden contact upon her right thigh.
"Is all well?" Rhaegar asked immediately, his silence not unattentive, but focused on her. He was a man of few words, but his eyes never wandered and his attention never wavered.
"I am well," she responded, smiling shyly at him; it was hard not to. He was the King, and while he claimed to be her father, perhaps rightly at that — more than likely rightly — but it was still so strange to think of him as such. Elia, at the least, had shown much effort and was sweeter and gentler than Lady Catelyn had ever been.
Rhaegar settled back in his chair, pleased by her answer. "Would you like to speak on the morrow, daughter?"
About what?
Visenya cocked her head at him, the angle ensuring that her hair fell forward as a curtain might so as to conceal her face partially. "What might we speak about?" she paused, weighing the options in her mind, and then she let flow the word that was strange to direct at a man that was not Eddard Stark. "Father?"
The King's face lit up as Elia's had when first she had called the woman mother and every time since then. "Everything. There is much to discuss now that you are home, and I wish to do so before the courtiers and Small Council moves to speak with you. I am sure you have questions related to the North as well, but I mean not to ruin our evening meal as a family — I fear my wife would be cross with me for moons if I did so."
Elia nodded, her eyes sharp as she prodded the King's side, much to his amusement. Visenya pursed her lips to prevent herself from laughing at his serious words. It would not be proper, nor Princess-like of her to do so. She was a bastard no more.
"I will do as you say," Visenya answered when he raised his eyebrows, likely wishing to extract her answer.
Rhaegar nodded once, pleased, and then he motioned with his eyes to Rhaenys and Aegon each. Whilst he wished to speak with her, he seemed more patient and steady-handed whereas the rest of the family was very enthusiastic, to say the least.
"On the morrow then, my daughter — ah, perhaps before the festivities of the night are over, we too might share a dance."
Rhaenys' eyes and Aegon's each snapped towards the King. He laughed when he saw them do so and spoke again, more for Visenya's sake than either of the other two Royal children. "Yes," he said. "Ser Jonothor will play for us a song. It has escaped my mind to ask, but, Visenya, do you sing? You certainly have the voice for it."
"She does. Visenya's voice is fairer and lighter than most," Elia agreed, an encouraging smile sent the smaller girl's way.
In response, Visenya felt her cheeks heat up worse than any amount of alcohol could ever cause. "I…" she started, swallowing as she noticed Rhaenys and Aegon were gazing at her too. "I know not the songs of the South, for I was only ever taught those of my hom— of the North, my mother's home."
Lyanna Stark. The woman she'd never come to know after being filled with so much hope by Lord Stark; if there was ever any reason to despise the man, it would be that.
"Any would do," Elia encouraged.
Rhaegar agreed, nodding his head with a smile that was just as encouraging as Elia's as the man leaned forward with a goblet in his hand; he set it aside as soon as he was comfortable.
Visenya opened her mouth and promptly closed it. The meal in and of itself was enjoyable and sans pressure or issues, however, the thought of performing for them still felt unnatural. She had very tentatively and with much trepidation, come to think of the Targaryens as family, 'twas true, but they lacked the intimate relationships required for her to be comfortable to do much and more. In fact, she doubted that she would train with Aegon in the yard as she had with Robb or attend seamstress lessons with Rhaenys… if the Princess did so.
"I wo—" was all that Visenya got out before an arm wove around her from the side and pulled her close.
"You need not sing, sister. Father has a voice that could make any gods weep, I believe they were trying to see if such talents found their way to you — I fear Aegon and I each couldn't hold a tune if it had a handle for us to grasp," Rhaenys said with levity, her grasp and words doing much to ease Visenya's worries.
"Rhaenys does not lie," Aegon said gruffly from across the table, a leg of chicken in his right hand and a bun with butter in his left.
Elia tutted. "Neither of you has poor voices for songs, and Visenya, you needn't sing for us if you don't wish to. Rhaenys was right, we were simply curious to know if your voice was as beautiful when you sang as it is when you speak."
Ser Jonothor entered shortly thereafter, and when he did, Rhaegar moved away to a harp. The man's long, gaunt fingers danced across the instrument with surprising dexterity and finesse, and when the gruff, older knight began to sing a song for the tunes the King played, Visenya felt mystified.
It was a wondrous post-dinner break, but dessert, she selfishly had to admit, could not come quicker.
"I should have sent for an artist, Elia," Rhaegar said, the words sorrowful-sounding as his eyes trailed Visenya until she sat down. "Would that I could have this moment immortalised upon a tapestry and hung near to our bed for the rest of my days."
"We'll have one commissioned later, my love. Our three greatest treasures could be put on one together — would it not be a sight?" Elia winked at Visenya when the girl acted nosy, leaning toward the King and Queen to better hear their words over the discussion Rhaenys and Aegon were having.
Visenya blinked and blushed, thoroughly caught. They would do nothing to her for wishing to listen in on a conversation, but she still expected to have her hand slapped or for a remark to be sent her way. Whensoever a jibe could be had by Sansa's sept or, on occasion, Lady Catelyn for her past life's misbehaviour, the chance would not be wasted.
"Visenya?" Aegon asked gently, his voice similar to that of Rhaenys'.
She turned away from the King and Queen and looked at the older boy, the Prince, her brother. As hers would oft be when she fell too deep into her cups, his face was flushed red and there lay a smile, light and sloppy, upon his face. Her nose wrinkled at the sight, but still, she paid the Prince his due attention.
"Aegon," she said in deference, her eyes avoiding his out of an innate intimidation atop the discomfort his presence had; her thoughts and what little she had been told about the incestuous ways of the house did not help. Her education may not have been perfect, but Visenya had been told frequently about the grievous offences the family committed regularly.
"Would you allow me the pleasure of returning you to your chambers when the meal is over and our parents wish to rest?" Aegon paused, and when Visenya's eyes found his, fear etched across his features, he rapidly shook his head and held out a hand as one would to a wild animal that needed care. "I don't mean to do anything untoward or dishonourable. Rhaenys has had much and more by way of time with you than I, and whilst I shan't oft admit it, perhaps I too can grow jealous."
"Are you trying to take my 'Senya from me, baby brother?"
Visenya grinned and withheld a giggle at Rhaenys' butting into the conversation. Aegon, meanwhile, huffed and looked over at the older Princess. "Visenya is not yours alone, Rhaenys, and we're each aware that 'twill be you that shares a bed alongside her this evening and many more."
Smartly, Visenya chose to remain silent as the two half-heartedly squabbled, no real heat in either sibling's tone of voice.
"I suppose I'll allow you a small share of time with her so long as you don't interrupt our rest or insist upon her filling her days starting upon the morrow. Mother agrees with me in thinking that Visenya should be given plenty of time away from the courtiers while we aid her in understanding how poisonous they can be," Rhaenys yawned and reached across the table, taking hold of one of Visenya's hands. "I hope my words don't cause you to worry, little sister."
Southron men are not so troubling, Father told me to geld any that dared lay a hand upon me.
Visenya shook her head, cocked her head and smiled, brushing her hair out of her face so that Rhaenys could see said look. "I am without worry."
"I think our Visenya has a few secrets of her own," Aegon quipped, grinning as he leaned further towards her still. His expression was very curious, with underlying tones of amusement at her sudden boldness. "Mayhaps we'll spar one day. Father would allow it if you so wished to."
In truth, Visenya was not overly fond of sparring or combat. It was unnatural to an extent, but her Father had insisted that she be able to defend herself and it did so pass the time better than being stuck atop a tower with little to do. Anything would beat the tower she had called home for so long a time, and when one added in the Stark children, loneliness in a room matched not the outdoors and their company.
Still, perhaps it would be wise to continue if only for her assured safety. It would not do if she found herself set upon without the knowledge or expertise in defending herself.
"One day," Visenya agreed. Before that day came, Visenya would most certainly dine oft with the Queen, Elia, and afterwards, learn from the older woman whatsoever she could in regards to the courtly life. Dishonesty, betrayal, cunning… the South was said to be rife with all manners of poor traits and poorer people.
The fault lay not at the feet of the Small Folk, but their Lords and Ladies.
"I'll gladly spar you," Rhaenys said, not allowing silence to linger as it began to. "The winner could retrieve a small token from Visenya, what say you, little sister? Would you like to see Aegon handled thoroughly?"
Aegon snorted and rolled his eyes. "Our sister speaks grand words, but last I recall, we ended in a draw under the watchful gaze of Uncle Oberyn. And to think you've had a couple of years over I in terms of training… where's it gone?"
Visenya kept her eyes down, towards her plate, and as the two playfully bantered she allowed a smile to slip. The two went back and forth until the last of the sweets were done away with and Ser Darry returned, intent on singing for the Royals so that they might dance.
She danced with Rhaegar, the King. She danced with Aegon, her brother. She danced with Rhaenys and Elia, the two that she had latched onto from when first their journey began; it was at the insistence of the two Targaryen women. Visenya could clearly see that, whilst this scenario was not an ideal one to her, everything could be far worse in many a way.
Then again, she knew not what the King had demanded of Lord Stark or the North as a whole, nor was she vaguely knowledgeable of the politics and 'games' the Southron Nobles played.
At the very least, the eve was fruitful and the wall she'd built up had a piece removed; the Targaryens could wish for nothing more.
Visenya woke with a yawn and a start. In her dreams, she had been falling from a great height, one with a view of nought but sand, the hot sun beating down on her with a vicious heat and precious little in the vastness to shield oneself from it. It was a horrid dream to have, for Visenya found the heat overwhelming and the vast emptiness, disturbing.
The girl wrinkled her nose when the smell of sweat and the sensation of wetness greeted her mind as it woke from its rest. In the night, and alone, she had sweat much and the sheets, as a result, were drenched — it had been so heavy she had, at first, thought she'd had her moon's blood come early. Thankfully, it was still not due for a sennight, mayhaps slightly longer… by the Old Gods she was not eager to experience it in the South. The North had already seen her lounging outside for as long as she could so that she might be able to control the heat flashes.
She sighed and gingerly whipped away the sheets, the material heavier and the shade darker. As soon as the crisp air of the morning greeted her body, it sagged, for the coolness was very pleasant and the scent that had first greeted her was scattered on the wind. In the latter's place, the scent of the water and flowers from her balcony replaced it. Visenya nearly jolted when a sudden song sounded, but when her eyes found the source of the noise upon an ornate windowsill, the cause for worry was banished; there was a bird she had never before seen, one that was a dull red colour and small in stature.
It was beautiful, regal-looking, and sang a haunting song.
When her feet swung around to touch the cold stone floor, the bird flew off, as startled by her as she'd initially been by it. Visenya giggled at its departure and hurried after it so that she might see where it had fled to, but it was gone when she reached the balcony. All was not unpleasant, however, for now, she had the time to gaze without company at the vastness that was King's Landing from the balcony of her chambers; the vision of the water with ships upon it as ants to a hill was awe-inspiring. It was easy to imagine the number of lives upon the water in her field of vision was as large, if not larger than all of Wintertown.
The South was very populous — some even claimed ten and one-hundred thousand souls called the Capital home. If even half as many did, it would still be far larger than any other city in the known world.
Visenya enjoyed the beauty of the flowers, the vision of the city and Blackwater Bay, and the many people going about their lives as specks for moments uncountable, and then she moved away. It had been interesting to see the masses from a place of power rather than obscurity, but she knew that be she a bastard or a Princess, she would never interact with any of those she witnessed.
It was an oddly comforting comparison.
In her mind, Marna and Visenya each wielded little control over their own lives the more thought she put towards it. The Starks, or the Targaryens, neither truly wished to leave her be to do as she so wished.
At least the Targaryens told me of my mother. Lord Stark had taken me as his own, and so he knew who my mother was and chose not to tell me. Mayhaps, had she lived, I would have been raised here with her and knew of the Starks only stories or from occasional visits.
Visenya moved toward a chair that was near the fireplace, where only the past evening, Rhaenys had laid a series of her older dresses. As she slipped out of her small clothes, sweat-ridden and old as they were, she paused. It would be improper and far from sanitary if she dressed without washing, but her room had not a basin filled with water.
With a sigh, she redressed in both her small clothes and the gown from the evening past. She would call to the Kingsguard who stood vigil beyond her chamber's entrance. Lest she needed Rhaenys or Elia, the man would likely know how and what she need do for her desires to be met.
Tentatively, her feet padded across the room silently, touching carpet and stone alike. As was oft said of her, the steps she took were silent and without the sound of bare feet slapping noisily. If anything, what was loudest of her movement was the rustling of fabric, that being in and of itself a testament to her silence, a feat which could only compare to her riding or innate manners.
"Ser?" Visenya practically whispered as the door creaked open enough for an eye to peer outwards; she wished she had in her possession a dagger or mayhaps a shortsword. "Excuse me, Ser?" she repeated louder, the Knight turning his head and looking at where her single violet eye peered at him.
"Princess," the man said, bowing his head respectfully as the six other men stood up straighter, two of them — younger — trying to take secretive glances her way. "How may I be of service?"
Visenya swallowed. With so many menfolk present, the thought of discussing her desire for a bath felt queer. They would know that betwixt a nude her and them, lay a door, singular and without a metallic reinforcement. She swallowed again, a blush settling prettily upon her pale skin as she rose her nose ever so slightly.
"I would like a basin and hot water to fill it brought to my chambers, Ser… if that is the normal way with which bathing is done here," the latter half of the words she spoke were said quietly and with uncertainty. It was, perhaps, obvious to some people how all might bathe, but the Targaryens were Targaryens.
How was she to know if they had a dedicated room or did as most others did?
The man nodded his head, stoic and the epitome of expressionless. "At once, Princess."
Visenya smiled at the man, small dimples forming as her blush increased. She brought a hand up to wave at the man. "Thank you, Ser," and then the door was closed and she stepped away from it.
It was her first order sans a true purpose that she had given. She could not compare it to her true first order, for when it came to her family, nothing would deter her, and regardless of what any person dared say, Rickon was her baby brother. He would always be her baby brother.
The door to her chambers received a series of knocks, and before Visenya could call to whosoever it was, the person spoke; she should not have been surprised…
"Little sister~" Rhaenys sang, her voice loud and pleasant-sounding. "I come with your tub, hot water, and most of all, myself. Won't you let me in?"
Visenya smiled, hiding a small burst of laughter before Rhaenys entered, and did as the older girl wished. As soon as the door was unbarred audibly, it was pushed open and Rhaenys entered with a series of maidservants on her heels save for the men it took to carry the tub; they were not servants, but soldiers.
"Good morning," Visenya greeted, her eyes shying away from Rhaenys' when she noticed the older girl's intensity.
"Good morning," Rhaenys returned, strolling over and combing a hair through Visenya's hair without so much as a thought. It felt pleasant, and when the older girl's fingers stroked her scalp, playing with her head as she was, Visenya nearly cooed. "How was your first true night's rest?"
"I mi…" Visenya trailed off, her eyes on the servants, them being the reason she paused in her speaking. It would not be good and well if they heard that she missed Rhaenys' presence beside her in the night. As Targaryens, especially two Princesses, who knew what they might say or spread around if she had done so?
Rhaenys grinned, waited for a few moments for the servants to finish their works, and then urged the small army of servants out expediently. The older girl followed after them, and Visenya, naturally, stayed firmly beside what had become her grounding rock; Rhaenys.
"My thanks to all of you," Rhaenys said to the servants. "Please, visit the kitchens and take for yourselves the time to enjoy a meal by my leave should any question you."
Visenya watched the exchange, most specifically, the lack of surprise on the servants' faces. That could not mean it was for show, instead, it seemed to be a common enough practice that the servants did nought but bow their heads and speak gratefully a unanimous 'thank you, Princess'
There was the sound of walking as the servants left… and then more walking, albeit heavier and noisier, and coming from the opposite direction; the entrance to Maegor's Holdfast. Rhaenys cocked her head, shrugging when Visenya looked toward her.
"Ser Jaime, Ser Jonothor," Rhaenys said, gaining the attention of the two Kingsguard; Visenya remembered that it was Ser Jaime that had been rude to her. "My Mother and Father remain in their chambers, is that right?"
"Very right, Princess," Ser Jaime responded immediately, grinning winningly at his sworn brother.
"Aegon?" Rhaenys asked, the steps getting louder.
The man did not answer before figures at the far end of the hall appeared. Visenya stole but a glance before she moved behind Rhaenys and partially through the door; the men wore green and gold, and they were led by a man with a cane that seemed to have trouble walking.
When they drew closer still, the group of five, all twelve Targaryen guards formed a barrier with the two Kingsguard — and Rhaenys — before them. It took but a look for Visenya to stay rooted firmly where she stood, for the seriousness and distaste upon Rhaenys' face conveyed these were men that Visenya needn't come to know.
Not for the first time, and most definitely not for the last, Visenya was thankful for Rhaenys' presence. The girl's personality, especially the protective and jealous qualities, did seem to benefit her on occasion.
"Lord Willas. If you are headed to meet with the King and Queen, I dare say you missed your turn," Rhaenys said, a certain edge to her voice.
The man, Lord Willas, apparently, moved based on the shuffling of fabric. Words soon followed his action. "My most sincere apologies, Princess. I fear I am a tad bit lost, for it is only my father who visits King Rhaegar when the need should arise. Today, he was indisposed, but we felt it imperative to speak with the King as soon as possible when he called upon us."
"My Father will appreciate the sentiment and expediency in serving him. Allow me to send two of my Household Guard to show you the way," Rhaenys wasted no time and allowed not the man to speak again as she spoke loudly, ordering two men to immediately show the man the way he'd gone errant of.
He tried to say something, and Rhaenys spoke again. "I wish you a fine morning and a good conversation with my father, Lord Willas," and like that, Rhaenys parted the men and returned to Visenya's door, whereupon reaching it, she stepped in and closed the door to Visenya's chambers with an audible and forceful slam.
Visenya jolted at the suddenness and force of the other girl's action, and again when her arms, stronger and with a slight tremble, wove themselves around her lithe form.
"Rhaenys?" Visenya queried.
"The games have begun," was all the older girl returned as her grip tightened, her tone acid-filled and her grip more possessive-feeling than ever before.
Whosoever the man was, Rhaenys' mood had been ruined by him and his accident; Visenya would find out more later.
Chapter 5: 'Sister'
Notes:
I've got more time again, but as usual, I hope to continue to write and post whensoever I can find the time to do so. I'm also still currently on the hunt for a Beta.
Marna/Visenya = Female Jon Snow, the other characters should be self-evident. Thank you and have a wonderful day!
Feel free to join my Discord for updates, giveaways (for those who actively chat), early access and information, link on my profile. Without any more preamble from me, I hope you enjoy the story!
Chapter Text
Visenya furrowed her brows at Rhaenys' words even as the older girl urged her into her chambers, back whence she'd come and where the water of her bath was cooling off sans usage. Visenya would wash whensoever Rhaenys left, and with water that had cooled or turned cold altogether if need be. It would not be the first time that she'd bathed herself in water that would turn one's warmth to frigidness. The North, and more specifically, her tower therein, would oft be problematic when outsiders were more prevalent. Lord Stark's isolation had been necessary, so he'd said.
"The Tyrells go beyond their station. Mother and Father will not be pleased," Rhaenys said as she sat at the edge of Visenya's canopied bed. "Aegon will take their actions as a challenge. So short a time you've been here, my sweet sister, and already you have men who wish to risk their necks for the slightest of chances to witness your beauty. It must be a thing of legends."
"Will they be problems? The Tyrells?" Visenya asked, content to avoid the remarks Rhaenys made about her 'beauty' as she'd called it. In her mind, she was a pretty girl, and the Southron Menfolk didn't risk themselves for her person, but her name and blood. More and more it seemed a gelding would be in order.
Rhaenys tutted at her as she shook her head. "Not in the slightest. We need not rely on them as we once might have done. The lands of the Crown are fertile and tilled, and therein the ground is harvested much and more that keeps King's Landing fed, by and large. Lord Tyrell aided that process, fool that he is."
"He could be a good man."
"The son of… no, sweet sister, Mace Tyrell is a fool and one that nearly cost us the war. I'll not go into detail, for there is no need to do as much, but he is guided by his mother and his mother alone. When the Queen of Thorns finally wilts away to nothingness, the bouquet will do much the same," Rhaenys waved off whatever comment Visenya might have made next and had her eyes purposefully glance over at the tub, steam still rising from the surface of the water. "You wished to bathe, did you not?"
Visenya nodded as she moved — slowly — towards the tub. It was large, ornate and as regal-looking as everything else in Maegor's Holdfast. Had it not been, she would have thought they'd stolen it from someplace solely for her, such was the lifestyle and taste the Targaryen family seemed to have. If it were in their possession, it seemed a prerequisite that it be gaudy, at least by Visenya's fashion choices.
Then again, this came from a girl that much preferred furs and conservative dresses. Why should she wear the sheer gowns or those that showed off much of her breasts or hugged tightly to her figure? The men of the South were lecherous and godless, and very evidently, unwise and unchaste; they were far smaller on average from what she'd seen too. Most lacked the muscle and underlying strength that the Northerners had in spades.
"My 'Senya," Rhaenys said quietly, her voice a breathless whisper.
"Yes?"
Rhaenys nodded at her clothing. "One can't bathe whilst their garments still adorn their body. You're aware of that, little sister, aren't you?"
Of course, I am, Visenya wanted to say, agitation creeping into her as she looked at the Princess. She didn't, she did not wish to raise the ire of the Princess that seemed to wield so much power, especially over the Prince and the rest of the family. It would do little good for her, of that, she was certain. And yet, at the same time, it would be unnatural… strange, even, for her to remove her clothing under the watchful eyes of Rhaenys.
"I am. I… you were speaking, and you're still present," Visenya made her eyes meet those of Rhaenys. "From whence I come, it is customary to bathe alone. When you take your leave, I will wash and join you for the day much the same as when we travelled here."
Rhaenys pouted at her, but she didn't press the matter as she lept deftly to her feet. "I shan't leave your chambers, baby sister, but I will leave the room to you. Whilst you wash and relax this morn, I will take it upon myself to pick the day's outfit for you — I know, you need not remind me, it will be something even a Septa would wear. I recognise your requirements and comfort moreso than my sense of fashion."
That was agreeable enough to Visenya, and so she nodded at the older girl, thankful at the very least to receive the time to bathe without company. As she'd thought previously, even as a Princess of the Targaryen family, her life was not her own. As Lord Stark — her true Father in her eyes and mind thus far — had done, they controlled her actions even if they wished to allow her the illusion that she was free.
If she were just that, her wishes and desires would not be suppressed, and the name she had gone by since infancy would be the one still used to this hour. Marna, even if Snow need be removed to make way for Targaryen.
"Thank you," Visenya said quietly. There was little reason to drudge up an issue despite her internal feelings.
Rhaenys curtsied to her, "You need not thank me, though I'll gladly receive any words in that sweet voice of yours," a teasing look followed Rhaenys' pleasant smile as she made toward the entrance to one of Visenya's side rooms. "One day, I do so desire to wash your back for you, little sister. We would have shared a bed, bath and tales of boys for as long as we've lived, you know."
"One day," Visenya agreed solely for the purpose of appeasing Rhaenys and expediting the girl's withdrawal from the room.
It was not often that Visenya felt uncomfortable or nervous around her 'sister', but times like the current one were the exception. Sometimes, the tales of the Targaryens and their urges and desires for those they were related to seemed as if they were beyond mere stories she'd read and been told. Aegon's glances and Rhaenys' words and actions seemed to harbour a sentiment that Visenya disdained… hated.
For all of the days that she'd lived and would live, there would be no marriage to Aegon or lecherous activities with any other Targaryen. It was unnatural, horribly so, all had said in the North. The teachings of the Old Gods also said as much from what she'd read about her Gods of choice.
That did not mean, however, that Rhaenys' company would not continue to be enjoyable. No, so long as the other girl did not act inappropriately or give cause for Visenya to distrust her, she would favour her above all others. Rhaenys had held her and calmed her, assured her of her safety and aided her in adjusting to her new life. Without the Princess' calming presence, Visenya knew that her life would be all the harder.
Visenya glanced at the balcony and shook her head. Dark thoughts were never welcome, she told herself, and as she slipped free of her remaining vestiges of clothing and climbed agilely over the tub, her legs sinking into the water, she allowed herself a slight smile. It was not for her situation or memories, but the present.
Despite all of the changes and news that had happened in but one moon, nature remained the same. It was a comfort that assured her despite the distance to a Heart's Tree, her gods remained with her, vigilant and present as the tides upon the water or the birds as they drifted upon the currents of the air.
Her name had changed, her home had changed, and her family had changed, but what she called herself need not matter internally; she was still her.
— — — — — — — — — —
"You look gorgeous, I knew I'd picked out the right dress and the jewellery to go with it," Rhaenys tossed her hair over her shoulder, lock dark waves flowing down her back with a beauty of their own making as she stepped closer to Visenya. The former's hands plucked deftly to and fro upon the latter's clothing as more words came. "Where do you wish to journey, little sister? If you know not a place to go, say a desire in its crudest form and I will guide you."
"Mother and Father? He wished to speak with me, and she would be present… right?" Visenya's train of thought was simple. She would see through whatever the King wished to discuss with ease, and by doing so, she would learn truly what would befall the Starks for the 'errors' or 'transgression' of one man. As for her thoughts about the Queen, the woman was calmer, gentle and loving so much so that Visenya found it internally that there was little chance it could be truthful.
No person was so kind as she was, and yet, there had been no slip-up.
Lord Stark, Father… he could be wrong. The Queen gives no cause for concern. She has not been treacherous or horrible, not remotely. If I wish to make the best of my circumstances, I shan't allow others to poison my mind as they've done for six and ten years, one way or another.
For a few scants seconds, Visenya felt deflated. It was poor of her to think of the Queen negatively when the older woman had done nothing to deserve her doubt or disbelief as to the genuineness of her actions. It came from a part of her that was deeply rooted with an innate disdain for all things Targaryen.
"...able when you do that. Your face looks as if you're sleeping, such is the rested state of it. By all the Gods, Old and New, you'll lead to duels for nought but a dance, won't you?" Rhaenys leaned forward and squeezed her right cheek, giggling when her mouth pouted at the action.
Visenya had zoned out, and as a result, missed whatever else the older girl had said to her whilst she'd been deep in thought. It wasn't the first time in recent days, and she did very much doubt that it'd be the last.
"I'm sorry," she said as Rhaenys pulled back. "I find my mind runs wild endlessly in recent times. Even now, the reality of my station in addition to the many changes that have occurred, do not completely register within the confines of my mind."
Rhaenys cooed at her and pulled the much smaller, slighter of build girl into her side. It was as if the older girl had an ingrained desire to man-handled Visenya whensoever and however often she could and simply looked for the excuse to do so; it didn't help that Visenya provided a lot of those, she'd admit.
"You need not apologise to me, little sister, never. Never, never, never," Rhaenys said as she peppered Visenya's face with small, feather-light kisses that nearly made the smaller girl giggle based on feeling alone. "We all understand how jarring this might just be for you, I promise. It is hard to place ourselves in your precious little boots, though it's not for a lack of trying — Now, as for what I stated whilst you lost yourself to your thoughts with that adorable expression upon your face, I said that Lord Willas will still be with Mother and Father, so to meet with them would expose you to a member of one of the most problematic families. Mayhaps a slight selfishness within myself desires to keep you away from them for as long as is possible for ones in our situation."
"Situation?"
"Situation," Rhaenys answered. "It is complicated, and whilst I do not doubt your intellect, little sister, it is decades in the making between our two houses. The tales, I'm afraid, are as complicated and bothersome. Suffice it to say, they desire to have their blood, Tyrell blood, upon the throne and that is not possible at the present."
"I understand," Visenya answered, happy for now to allow the history to be forgotten. It would not be left alone forever, but if she were to be allowed time to adjust to Maegor's Holdfast free from courtiers, she would not press the matter.
"So, with Mother and Father occupied, where do you wish to go? Daenerys should arrive shortly, and I do believe Viserys will arrive soon after," Rhaenys smiled wider, a teasing sort of look on her face. "Aegon, perhaps? He's sparring in the yard, I believe. If you wish to see one of our good Sers best him and send him sprawling through the dirt, we could do so — it makes for a most pleasant show."
Again, Visenya had to remind herself that Aegon and Rhaenys did not dislike one another. There was simply a rivalry between them, and one that seemed to be deeply rooted, and at most times, amusing.
"What else might we see?" Visenya queried as her eyes once again found the balcony and the view thereof. "I know not of the city or its contents. There was no reason to read of it, for I was told oft and at an early age that Northerners did not do well beyond the Neck."
"You will do beyond well here, need I say. As for what we might see or do, whilst we're limited to a degree if we wish to continue your privacy and life sans the intrusion of others, there is still much we might find," Rhaenys grabbed Visenya's hand and pulled, bringing the other girl over to the exit of her chambers. "First, I believe, is the view from one of the farthest balconies. Others might gain a glimpse of you, but that need not be a problem, for they'll be unable to speak or interrupt us."
"What will we see?"
Rhaenys gave as much of a non-answer as Visenya thought possible. "What won't we see?"
"Will others be moving throughout the halls?" Visenya instead asked. If the other question would earn her no answer either way, she would at least hope to hear one for that type of question. She had thought the place would be Targaryen only, with exceptions made only for the guards.
Evidently, that wasn't quite the case.
"They shouldn't be. The Tyrells and on occasion, others, are allowed when they have been extended an invitation. It was likely that Lord Tyrell being unable to attend, extended the invite he'd received to his son, whom you partially met," Rhaenys opened the door and moved past their Kingsguard and the dozen or so household guard that were present. "Oft, the Lannisters and Tyrells are kept apart since they compete excessively, to the point that no progress is made for the day. It is only Lord Tyrell and Lord Lannister, with few other exemptions made, that work together, and even then it's best to keep them apart — the other Lords and Ladies wait to meet elsewhere with Mother or Father."
"The Lannisters and Tyrells are allowed on account of their family, is that right? The Greyjoys, Tullys and others of similar standing would also be allowed?" Visenya assumed she was correct, she practically knew she was, but if political ineptitude would keep her away from the Southron Nobility longer, it wouldn't be poor to play up.
"Exactly right, little sister," Rhaenys said with a near-infectious cheer as she picked up their pace, the two nearly running through the halls. The larger Knights and Guards that followed close behind simply did so at an increased pace, a light jog at the most.
Shortly thereafter, and as the two Targaryen girls went through the halls and passed tapestries, statues and busts, they reached an old chamber with an older door. Rhaenys halted then, ensuring that Visenya did so as well. With a show of agility, the latter did so nearly the moment the former did without so much as a skid or wasted motion. Rhaenys was pleased as she twirled on her feet until she was facing the door.
"Sers, wait for my sister and I here, we wish to make use of the balcony herein," and thenceforth after Rhaenys spoke, the two entered the chamber they were outside of and Rhaenys promptly closed the door behind them.
She seemed intent that they were given privacy, and so they were.
"Who's room is this?" Visenya asked as she looked around. It was covered with a thin layer of dust, everything, from the desk ingrained with dragons to the sheets of the bed, silken as her own. It was strange to see such luxury left to waste in a world where many and more could do with everything inside of the room.
"It is one of many that are unused," Rhaenys said simply, shrugging her shoulders. "When once our family was far larger, with hatchlings running to and fro, each and every room was used. Dragonstone would be just as full of our ancestors. Until such a time comes again, it will be left as it is — don't allow such thoughts to linger," and like that Rhaenys pulled her away again, this time in the direction of the balcony she'd mentioned.
It took a few seconds, only a few, and Visenya was greeted with the best view she knew she would ever receive of the city as a whole. The chambers they were in had been set in a corner, tucked away from most of the others and larger than many they had seen. It would be one that she would have liked to have… though the view of the sea and the call of it was too much for her to wish to trade away.
"Rhaenys?" Visenya asked as a queer thought struck her, one that she knew would irk her if she dared not ask. "Might I ask you something?"
"Whatever you'd like, always."
"The room given to me, was it dusty as this one was? I could not find any hint that it was. All seems clean and well-made," Visenya said, her words the truth. She had spent a good bit of time and when alone, looking throughout the room so as to familiarise herself with it. Inside was nought but finery, much the same as all of Maegor's Holdfast as she'd seen; the dust in the current room was the only difference.
It was strange.
"Once, it might have been," Rhaenys said as she turned to look at Visenya, her eyes with an odd mistiness in them. "It would not have been that way for quite some time, might I tell you. Mother and Father, as I've said before, insisted that you were real and waiting for us. It mattered not our thoughts at the time, for they maintained you would join us when the time was proper."
"Truly?"
Rhaenys smiled and looked down at where their hands were touching. "I speak the truth — the room has been clean since Aegon's birth. Come, let us step onto the balcony and enjoy the view of the City. I would point out places of interest and the nearest settlements, two that might be visible on the horizon, if the weather is clear."
Visenya didn't allow herself to think about what Rhaenys' words might mean. As it was, what she had thought proved itself true when her sister answered her question. The Targaryens had waited for them with a longing that she suspected the Starks were feeling at the present.
"Which hill is yours and which is mine?" Visenya asked, the question more a distraction than genuine curiosity, though that wasn't to say the latter quality wasn't missing altogether. As for the hills, Visenya's and Rhaenys', one had a decaying structure upon it and the other, a large, beautiful one.
She'd be most jealous if Rhaenys had the large, ornate and beautiful one… then again, if it was the Sept as she suspected it was, mayhaps that jealousy wouldn't be present.
"On the left, near the King's Gate, is your hill and on the right, near the Dragon's gate, is mine," Rhaenys answered, their hands still connected and the grip thereof getting tighter as Rhaenys shifted closer to Visenya. Her height all but ensured the smaller girl — Visenya — was seated snugly at her side. "That structure at the top is the Great Sept of Baelor, and atop my hill, the ruins of the Dragonpit that'll one day soon be restored to something different, though Father still believes it should have been destroyed altogether; Grandmother convinced him otherwise."
"Why?" Visenya didn't know much about the dragons, only the Targaryens… admittedly, the little she knew might have a tough of bias.
Rhaenys turned from where she looked at the land ahead of them so that she could focus on Visenya and Visenya alone. "Do you know how the last Dragons looked? Their size or strength, health or durability?"
In response to such a question, Visenya shook her head to indicate that, no, she did not know much about the Dragons of House Targaryen in their final days. She doubted there were many who did, and the majority would be from the Citadel, where the Maesters trained and educated themselves. Had it not been a duty only for men, it would have been a place she'd very much enjoy visiting.
"They were as small as my little cat Balerion and frailer than he. Oft they were sickly and at death's door, and when the last one was felled, I do believe Balerion would have been slightly larger. It was a pitiful extinction for creatures that had long ruled the skies and ensured that House Targaryen was feared," Rhaenys sighed, clearly unhappy for such an end, and then she shook her head and ran her hands up and down Visenya's left arm. "You seem to enjoy stories and views. I imagine… I imagine there were not many of either from your window."
"Only the same one for years unending, though it needn't be poor. When you're as familiar with an area as I grew to be, new homes and buildings, felled trees or ones that grew with time, they all become noticeable. It was like being one of the Children of the Forest," Visenya ended with a fond memory springing to her mind of Old Nan. She had treated her just as any child of Lord Stark, fondly, softly, and with tales that were told with the same passion that Rhaenys gave.
"I could see the appeal," Rhaenys said politely, with words that Visenya didn't truly believe. After a few seconds, the older girl smiled, shook her hair in such a way that it whipped back and forth, and gestured toward Visenya's hill. "Lady Stark is a follower of the New Gods, I think — do you know much about them?"
"Are they who you keep to?"
Rhaenys grinned at her. "When I wish to be pious, yes," the touch on her arm grew lighter, to the point that it tickled Visenya every so often. "You keep the Old Gods, this we know. Where do you stand on the New?"
Visenya shrugged. "It is not my place to question one's beliefs, but they're not my Gods," she moved her eyes to look away from Rhaenys, in the event her answer was wrong. Visenya was no fool, she knew that she could appease them and that such a drive to appease or submit came from the tales she'd been told about the family. False or not, the Old Gods would never be forgotten for any Southron religion.
"They're not mine either, we simply must keep the majority of the smallfolk pleased, for it is they who give power to the Faith. Father fears someday soon the Faith Militant will rise once more, sooner than we wish and far soon than we'd like," Rhaenys gestured, again, to the Sept of Baelor. "If I were him, I would see the Sept destroyed or taken by our family. The Gods of Old Valyria would do well in Westeros, and if not they, I find myself enthralled by the Lysene Goddess. Do you know of her, little sister?"
Try as she might, Visenya didn't remember much, if anything, about Lys as a whole. Much like the dragons of old, there was no true reason to learn about the Lysene people, their Goddess or their culture. It was but one more place that she would never see, experience or visit.
Who knew, that much change now?
"No," she said softly, embarrassment colouring her cheeks. Rhaenys might act aloof and sweet at times, and other times attached and cheeky, but under that rougher outer shell was an incredibly educated and seemingly cunning girl. She would be the one to keep by her side if Visenya wished to remain safe, and cared for and embrace her role in House Targaryen.
"The Lysene pray to her for they believe her to be the Goddess of Pleasure, she keeps them cared for in all ways, including the flesh. She would do well in Dorne, where all are treated equally," Rhaenys leaned down, and with her face lingering near Visenya's for a second or so, smiled wide before she pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "What next might we see? The beach, maybe? I shan't take you to it, but there are better views than those your room has. Maybe you would like to see the Queen's ballroom for guests?"
Visenya bit her bottom lip. Rhaenys raised a brow and motioned for the younger girl to speak, and so she did, tentatively. "Could we enjoy the view for some time? I don't wish to ruin any tour you might have planned in your head, but the view of the city and what it has to offer is very enjoyable. As you guessed earlier, with so many new sights to see, how wouldn't I love to memorise them all?"
"We can stay as long as you'd like, even if it sees us here until the evening," Rhaenys responded as she used her strength to bring the two over to the nearest chair on the balcony. It was clean, likely from the whipping of the wind and occasional rainfall, and colourful. "Sit with me?"
"Yes," Visenya answered, her tone still quiet and hesitant as she was positioned by Rhaenys' grasp into her lap as the older girl practically fell back into the seat. It was easily large enough for the pair to enjoy together.
"I think I'll take you to the Godswood later," Rhaenys mused as her hands rose from Visenya's hips to her hair, her long fingers massaging her younger sister's scalp. "I would ensure it's kept closed to others, so only you and I might enjoy it for a time. Would that be enjoyable, or do you wish to remain here — you needn't worry, none shall pass our guards, so let that not impact your decision."
"Is there a Heart's tree in the Godswood?" Visenya had thought she remembered hearing that all had been cut down by the Andals centuries ago. They had swept through the lands, killed the Children of the Forest and the First Men even as they aligned with one another to combat the Andals and stolen all they had possessed all the while destroying their trees, their places of worship.
It was another grievance that the Northerners never forgot, and seldom forgave. If a list were to be made, it would be long and menacing, and the Southron people would have much justice to face.
Rhaenys shook her head with a morose look on her face. "Unfortunately, there is not — 'tis a fact that all who worship the Old Gods remind us of. But what might we do? Plant one? If we managed it, I do believe those who keep to the New Gods would cause quite the issue over it."
"They would be wrong to do so. The Crown protects those who keep any faith," Visenya wiggled around atop Rhaenys and huffed when she couldn't reach a true level of comfort. It was most tedious until the older girl's arms wrapped more tightly around her as she pulled her flat against her larger form.
"Be still and relax," Rhaenys said into her left ear, her voice a whisper as her hands delved back into the crown of silverish hair atop her head. "There is no need to wiggle around as you do, 'Senya. Enjoy the howling of the wind and the smell of rain on the horizon… say, do storms frighten you? Aegon will be cross with me, but when he was a babe, he would oft crawl into my bed at the slightest hint of thunder or lightning."
"I enjoy rain, snow and hail, and whatsoever brings them. It is the heat I find unbearable. If I could, I would live in a land of constant snow, though I know that to be a life that would be most difficult to live," Visenya sighed as she rested her head atop Rhaeny's chest. The older girl was soft and comfortable, and the beating of her heart was cause for a great sense of comfort and safety despite the despicable nature of most people that were now near her.
In the North, there was no need to keep oneself concealed from others. There were seldom dishonourable, treacherous folk, and when there were, the smallfolk or Lords would handle them with the justice they deserved; if not executed for laws that they had broken, they would be sent to the South, where they belonged.
It would come as no surprise that others who fled to Essos thrived in bands of sellswords, and of them, many were nought but killers regardless of what they said. One she remembered was a Lord of Bear Island, a Mormont, and he had been one of the worst types of men that had caused much anger for Lord Stark — Father — for the man had sold poachers into slavery.
Slavers, regardless of who they were, deserved nothing.
Visenya's breathing grew deeper, and slowly, with the smell of rain that Rhaenys had commented, she allowed the sense of tiredness to thrive. In seconds or minutes, she knew not, her eyes closed, her breathing grew deeper, and the soft, fleeting touches from Rhaenys sent her away into the realm of dreams.
It was a wonderful rest.
"... the need to ruin our time, little brother?" Rhaenys' voice spoke, barbed and bothered.
It was the first thing that Visenya noticed when she rose, her body still atop a softer, larger one. With the view slightly darker, and the clouds far heavier-looking, she could only suspect she'd slept longer than she'd intended. It wasn't as long as she could have, however, for she was woken by Rhaeny and Aegon as they verbally sparred.
"Ah, Visenya's woke," Aegon said from his spot loitering against the archway of the balcony's entrance and exit. "Good afternoon, sweet sister. It would seem you and Rhaenys have been resting for quite some time upon this balcony — be there a reason, or did it strike your fancy?"
Visenya made to speak, but yawned, a slight squeak escaping her throat in the process. Rhaenys cooed at the noise, her right hand immediately weaving itself back into her hair.
"Visenya wished to see more of the city in its entirety, and what better way to do so all at once whilst maintaining her privacy, than from this balcony? Guards or Courtiers that might have viewed us together, few in number as they would be, had not the chance to speak with us," Rhaenys smiled, happy. "Sisterly bonding time is ever so important, little brother. Mayhaps you'll realise bonding is good for you and important, and allow sparring to wait."
Aegon snorted as he approached, content to sit beside the two sisters. He fell with a huff and sighed in relief when his body made contact with the padded furniture below. It was exceedingly evident that he felt sore from his earlier work. "Not all of us have the ability to do as we so wish or desire, Rhaenys. I am to be King when Father decides to abdicate, and when that day comes, it is expected of me to do all that he has done and more, and better than he."
"It's expected of every King, Aegon, but how many follow through?" Rhaenys asked with a snort and grin when Visenya squirmed, her hands delving deep and soothingly atop her head.
"All the more reason for me to do what most cannot. My time with Visenya will need to be had in the evening when I can make the most of it and whilst she's free. I imagine come a fortnight or perhaps even one moon in its entirety, her days will be full up from the wishes to dine or speak with her from our many hundreds of guests," Aegon nodded and held up a hand when Rhaenys opened her mouth. "Yes, Rhaenys, many will come to see and speak with her. Most will desire an audience with the youngest child and now available daughter of King Rhaegar. Many would see a girl such as our 'Senya, with her looks and bloodline, as the most desired bride-to-be thus far."
Rhaenys huffed under her, perhaps for multiple reasons, though her words conveyed only one. "None shall have her."
"None shall have her," Aegon agreed, pleased that they agreed about Visenya's future. He addressed her next. "Visenya, might you wish to sup with me tonight? Rhaenys, of course, is welcome to come along with you — lest I forget, you have a meeting with Mother and Father tonight too, do you not?"
"I do. Father wishes to speak with me, though about what, I do not know…" Visenya looked at Aegon for a few seconds, enough to make eye contact, and when she noticed the intensity therein, she broke it. Again, and as before, Aegon's eyes and the look on his face filled her with a sense of worry.
The most recent words shared betwixt her siblings did little to ease such worries. 'None shall have her' they'd said, and yet, what was she to do short of marrying the person she so desired? If they meant to give her freedom, that would include the freedom to do as she so wished, obviously short of leaving their family.
"Nothing serious," Aegon said with a shrug.
Rhaenys nodded under her, the older girl's dark hair whipping upwards on account of the wind. "Aegon, for a change, speaks correctly — Father will speak with you about the North, as he said, and I suspect about your future. Mother has said she stands by whatever decisions you make."
"Decisions?" Visenya couldn't help but ask.
Neither sibling answered in a meaningful fashion.
It was hours later, and now away from her siblings and at the entrance to her Father and Mother's chambers — the King and Queen of the realm as she still thought about them the majority of the time — Visenya paused. Strange she still believed everything to be, and yet, she had been told to speak with the two on the morrow, and that had occurred the prior evening.
She swallowed, her nervousness giving way to calmness and a desire to learn what would truly happen to the Starks. It had been a topic avoided whilst they'd been on the road, and think about it as she might, the only reason that came to her was one that was sinister; if they wished not to tell her whilst they'd been travelling, it could not be good. They likely feared an attempt that she would flee, and if that proved to be the case, the Starks would most assuredly be in trouble.
How could she help them?
"Princess," came the calm, collected and cool voice of Ser Velaryon, the King's usual companion — Visenya had learned that position had originally been Ser Dayne's, until he'd been felled; he was said to be the Kingsguard who always stayed with King Rhaegar and offer cousel. Even she'd known that from her life in the tower. "You are cleared to enter, the King and Queen await you."
Visenya dipped her head at the man and did as he said, entering through the door that he opened for her and stepping through, the sound of it closing behind her not lost on Visenya. It didn't make her feel trapped or locked in, she'd felt such a way since she'd reached King's Landing, but… it wasn't all negative. Rickon was here, and worried as she'd been, he was treated fairly, as was she.
For now, the lingering disbelief and festering thoughts added as her eyes fell upon the two most important members of the Royal Family. The King and Queen, and the two of them were seated together with glasses of wine in their hands and as she entered, their heads turned to her.
"Daughter," the King said.
Elia, the Queen and a woman she felt incredibly comfortable around on account of her kindness and gentleness smiled at her and opened her arms from her seated position. "Come, daughter. Sit with us."
Visenya's feet padded across the cool stone floor. As soon as she'd entered the room, she'd ditched her shoes — they felt unnatural to wear in any bed chambers. In her tower, she'd never wear them. There was no reason to, for little time would she spend outside of it, and the floor was littered with furs and rugs that her father — Lord Stark— had insisted she be given.
"Our beautiful girl," Elia cooed in much the same way that Rhaenys had hours earlier as Visenya allowed herself to be pulled into the Queen's arms, the older woman weaving her hands through her hair with more precision and expertise than the aforementioned Princess. "Every time we do so see you, 'Senya, it is like viewing one's greatest treasure… you won't repeat such words to your siblings, will you? I fret they'd grow jealous of you. Think of it as a secret between Mother and Daughter."
"I'll not tell them," Visenya said, a slight smile coming to her face; she was reminded then, without even needing to be, why she so loved Elia, the Queen. Who couldn't?
"Shall we get to it?" Rhaegar asked, a slightly sour expression on his face. It was as if he wished not to discuss what they were going to in a short amount of time, and yet, they still would. It had to be done for her piece of mind and he knew as much, King, that he was.
"Yes, y-Father," Visenya said, the seriousness and the expression on his face nearly made her slip up. Sometimes, and when she saw a serious look on his face, the Queen's… anybody that she had formerly been far subservient to, a nervousness filled her. It was twice as severe when it was a Targaryen, though by now, that needn't be said.
"Lord Stark was wrong to keep you from me, but I will put your mind to rest on the foremost matter of importance — I will not execute him nor his kin, I will not banish them from the realm and wish as I might, I shan't take from them their home. I know it would be counterintuitive toward building our relationship if I were to take from the Starks in any capacity," Rhaegar looked at Elia, the sour expression growing on his face, and the woman nodded once, resolute and determined. "That is why it will be said that the Starks were keeping you in accordance with your Mother's desires, and now, the time has come to fulfil the obligation they agreed upon, that being to return you to where you belong."
"They'll not be punished, then?"
Elia patted her thigh. "Lord Stark will be, privately, but to the realm, there will be little that happens — the North has been bled enough, and lest we stir up grievances that have festered over many a year, this is the best course of action. It is not missed by your Father or I that punishing the Starks would cause a split in you as well, for they are your family in your mind as much, if not more so than we are… that will change in time, we hope."
Father, the Starks… they're all safe. They'll be safe. I just need to continue as I am. They're safe.
Visenya smiled, relieved that the Starks would be let off easily, and in the King's opinion — she could read it easily — far too easily. She did so believe that it was thanks to Elia that he was so easy on them, mayhaps even a few of his advisors… she wasn't certain just who he'd spoken about her with.
"It will, I promise you," Visenya finally got out when she noticed the two pairs of eyes on her. She wrapped her hands together tightly, the blue of her veins showing as she spoke to them with the utmost care and truth in her tone. "I will do as you wish, I… thank you, Mother, thank you, Father. The Starks, I know they should not have kept me from you… thank you for showing them mercy. I'll be good, I swear it."
The King leaned forward and wiped an errant tear that Visenya hadn't noticed. When next he spoke, his words caught her by surprise. "We would do much and more to earn your trust, and your love and see to your happiness, Visenya. I do hope you'll see that as the moons pass us by — we will move past the minor repercussions and reparations the Starks will give to the Crown, and let us think and dwell on this matter no more."
Elia raised her glass between her and Visenya, a light, goofy look on her face. "Here's to that, my Loves."
Visenya agreed, shared a glass with the Queen, and spent time with her parents, the two that truly claimed her as their own. Free from politics, the Starks, and the world, it was nought but them and a chance to bond.
She enjoyed it; the guilt came only later, under the cover of darkness, until it was driven off by a warm, sisterly body that cuddled up to her.
"Well, don't you look like a treat?"
Visenya's eyes batted open at the voice, and when she blinked her bleary eyes to focus them on the person beside her, she couldn't help but snort. Rhaenys was beside her, leaning over to look at her face more clearly as one hand drank a glass of wine; it was but the morning, and yet, she seemed attached to wine nearly as much as Elia did.
"Is it time to rise, sister?" Visenya asked with a yawn. She felt quite tired, she'd felt tired and lethargic since she'd left Winterfell, but what could she do? Her body simply hadn't gotten accustomed to the South yet. It would in time.
"Soon," Rhaenys said as one deft hand swiped the hair out from Visenya's eyes as the errant strands moved in sync with her head. "We have a guest that is due very soon, and in the evening, another. Each wishes to meet you very badly, though I do believe the latter might wait to do so until the next morn."
"Daenerys?"
Rhaenys nodded. "The time we thought she'd arrive was, perhaps, a bit off, but we received word today that she's soon to arrive. Viserys will join us later, and afterwards, so that you might grow more accustomed to the rest of our family, Uncle Oberyn and many of his daughters will visit us next."
At that, Visenya felt queasy. As much as the Targaryens might have accepted her, what were the thoughts of the Martells and Dornish as a whole? One might argue that a majority of the realm was still, as of yet, unaware of her existence… when she was common knowledge, would she be scorned and hated?
"Relax, sweet sister. I see the look that's set upon your face, and I swore to you already that Uncle Oberyn will not hold the sins of a Father or Mother against the child. In his own words, children are innocent of sin," Rhaenys leaned down to kiss Visenya's forehead with a touch that lingered, and then she pulled back with a smile and gestured to a steaming bath in the centre of her room.
It was strange that Visenya hadn't been woken up by the effort of the servants that had brought it in. They must have been exceedingly quiet — her eyes widened and her head snapped to look at Rhaenys. "Did th—"
"I wasn't laying next to you, not that it'd matter. Most would assume I joined you atop your bed rather than lay beside you in it, and those that we allow in here, few in number as they are, owe their loyalty to House Targaryen. No other house cares for their servants the same way that we might," Rhaenys yawned then, and huffed with narrowed eyes at Visenya. "That's your fault. I was not yawning until you did so, sister."
"Sorry?"
Rhaenys huffed again and wrapped her arms more tightly around Visenya as she rose, forcing the smaller, lithe girl to do the same. "No more apologies from you," the Princess said, her tone shifting to that of what she'd use in an official capacity. "You needn't feel obliged to do as I'd say, though I'd love it if you always listened to your big sister. Only Father and Mother have their words as law, and even then, you need not defer to them. Aegon and I are proof of that."
Visenya nodded, a feeling of being chastised running through her for a fleeting set of seconds. When Rhaenys kissed the back of her neck thrice over, Visenya finally was allowed to stand and so she did; her older sister slapped her rear when she did so.
One look over her shoulder at the older girl revealed her to be snickering at her, and when Visenya tried to narrow her eyes in much the same way that Rhaenys had done, the Princess shrugged. "Forgive me not, you're too cute."
In response, Visenya pouted and rose a delicate hand in the direction of the adjoining room. "Please," she said, her meaning clear. "If you'd like to, you could choose an outfit again… I enjoy your tastes when they mix with mine."
Rhaenys grinned, opened her mouth to speak, closed it, and hopped deftly off of Visenya's bed. She came around and stopped in front of Visenya, and sans words, the older girl pulled the younger into a tight, loving embrace.
"I love you, 'Senya," Rhaenys said, that same quality in her voice when first they met. Mayhaps the older girl was a bit handsy and teasing, inappropriate and possessive, but again, without her, Visenya would be far more isolated and without companionship.
It was, truly, very nice to have a friend the likes of Rhaenys. After all, who was without faults?
"Aegon," Rhaenys greeted, the older girl not so much as stopping as she exited Visenya's chambers with the aforementioned girl trailing after her.
"Hello, Aegon," Visenya echoed with a polite smile, her eyes avoiding his. She'd come to dislike the intensity of his gaze, though she'd say that, like Robb, he was a handsome-enough boy. There was just something in the way that he looked at her that she disliked.
"My two beautiful sisters," Aegon responded, his smile widening even as Rhaenys glared at him when he put himself distinctly between the two Princesses. "We have our Aunt Daenerys to go and greet. We're to join her, Mother and Father to break our fast — she grew distracted on the way here, as you might imagine, but still, she made good time."
"I would say so. I wasn't expecting her quite so soon, Visenya's only had two days here and already our sweet Aunt wishes to meet her," Rhaenys' eyes fell on Aegon, her look purposeful even to Visenya's eyes, but the Prince ignored it and whatsoever the look was supposed to mean.
The trio moved through the halls then, with three Kingsguard and nearly twenty guards at their back. It felt excessive to Visenya, the numerous guards that trailed behind them or that were present at various sections of the Holdfast. Perhaps the North was far safer, she knew not, but it was not her place to judge by any means.
As she noticed that and paid little attention to her siblings as they walked their minute or so journey, she nearly failed to notice the abrupt halt they had come to. Her chambers were incredibly close to the King and Queen's, and they had stopped so as to announce their presence before they entered. With the Starks, you'd but knock and enter; this felt less familiar even if the family was warmer with one another.
"Enter, children," Elia's voice rang out as they waited, only a second at the most passing them by.
Aegon pushed open the door before the second word was properly finished, and with an encouraging look and minor nudge from behind at the behest of Rhaenys, Visenya followed their brother in. Behind her, and when Rhaenys was fully in the room, the door was closed, and the Targaryen family was one step closer to having every member still alive in the same space.
"Visenya," Rhaegar said, the man speaking as he rose from his seat to his full height. As always, he looked regal despite the slightness of his build, and his face shined all the more so; he'd looked so very happy whensoever he saw her, and yet, if it were possible, he looked as if the very Gods of whatsoever he believed in had given him everything he might have wished for and more. "Meet my sister, Daenerys — your Aunt, despite the fact that you're narrowly her elder."
"Brother," huffed a sweet, girlish voice before a figure stood. She was even shorter than Visenya, though her build was curvier and her figure fuller from her thighs to her breasts. When she saw the girl, Visenya felt inadequate despite the constant compliments of Rhaenys. "You're my twin that Rhaegar's been telling me about… might I call you sister? I dare say we could pass for one another."
Rhaenys snorted but remained silent as Daenerys neared Visenya. Mayhaps the eldest Princess shared the same thoughts that Visenya had.
"You may… Aunt?" Visenya looked beyond the smaller girl and at the King and Queen — Mother and Father. She'd nearly called the girl Daenerys, as she did with her siblings, and then her mind had defaulted to Princess when that didn't work. Aunt, she had included in a second's time, would be best.
In the blink of an eye, the very slightly shorter girl was standing before Visenya with her head cocked to one side and her eyes wide open with interest clear to see.
"Might I?" Daenerys asked, one hand tentatively indicating Visenya's hair.
In response, Visenya shrugged. She didn't mind if the girl touched her hair, though it was a queer request on account of their hair being much the same. The colour perfectly matched, their eyes seemed to do much the same, and even their faces looked similar, though Visenya suspected her own was more angular in comparison to Daenerys' rounder, softer appearance.
"It feels the same as mine," Daenerys said in wonder, and after practically petting Visenya as she was, she dropped her hand and pulled the startled girl into a firm and warm embrace. "We're going to get along very well," and then she whispered away from the others. "I do hope you enjoy pranks, we look too much alike not to pull some of our choosing."
And then she separated, her hands staying firmly on Visenya's body.
"Would it be poor of me to call you beautiful?" Visenya asked, a small smile forming on her face.
Daenerys shook her head, her long hair whipping back and forth as she moved animatedly. "Not in the slightest — we're beautiful. It just means you've looked in a looking glass enough to recognise that. Come, sit with me, I wish to hear all about you. Rhaenys and Aegon have had their time."
"I hav—" Aegon started, but Rhaenys stopped him with a cuff upside the back of his head.
She seemed to take Daenerys' side as the near-perfect copy of Visenya pulled her along much like Rhaenys would until they reached the very couch where Rhaegar was seated. As soon as they did so, Daenerys sat down and Visenya slid down beside her, the two pressed together closely with Rhaegar on Daenerys' other side.
"So, Sister," Daenerys started with a teasing smile as she clasped their hands together. "What do you enjoy doing?"
Visenya blinked at the girl. That wasn't the question she'd been expecting. No, Visenya had thought she'd be asked about her life with the Starks in the North, or other questions that would pry into her previous life as a bastard Northerner. In fact, as far as she could recall, that was the first time such a question had been asked.
As she thought about it, such a question was harder to answer than it should be.
"I enjoy nature and horse-riding, and reading. History, tales of love, anything that's words upon a parchment," Visenya said after a silence of nearly ten seconds as her thoughts rattled around. When Daenerys blinked at her without speaking, her eyes peering into Visenya's, Visenya felt a well of panic and she spoke again. "What do you enjoy? Daenerys?"
By the Gods, Visenya hated being at the centre of attention for all of the Targaryens, of anybody. It was horrible, and it felt as if they were examining her and taking to a mental parchment everything that she did so say.
Daenerys, meanwhile, smiled. The other girl didn't offer words of assurance that drew attention to her odd feelings and inner turmoil. Instead, she seemed happy and carefree as her hands stayed clasped around Visenya's, content with her presence and the words that she could extract.
As for her response after a lingering smile, it wasn't what Visenya had expected.
Chapter 6: Family
Notes:
Here's a thank-you from me to all of you for sticking with this! I'm also still currently on the hunt for a Beta... still still.
Feel free to join my Discord for updates, giveaways (for those who actively chat), early access and information, link on my profile. Without any more preamble from me, I hope you enjoy the story!
Chapter Text
"Everything."
Visenya blinked at Daenerys as if she'd not heard what the other girl had said.
Daenerys beamed at her. "I enjoy riding atop a horse and nature just as much as you might. There's beauty in lives simple joys."
"Wise words from one so young," Elia said as she came to rest on Visenya's other side, one of her hands settling on Visenya's hip. "Long has Daenerys spoken with the wisdom of a Maester. The two of you could teach much and more to Rhaenys and Aegon."
At that, Daenerys giggled whilst the two aforementioned Targaryens scowled in their own fashion; Rhaenys, especially, looked irritated.
"Please. Rhaenys and Aegon are wonderful. Without them, court, King's Landing, all of it would be so much more boring than it already is," Daenerys turned her attention back to Visenya then, a queer look about her. "I would offer one word of warning to you, Visenya — when Rhaenys requests you visit Dorne, or anywhere else where the sun might shine down upon you, dress well. You'd not like to turn red."
Elia, Rhaenys, nearly everybody laughed then, like that was some sort of memory rather than words spoken solely for the sake of caution. Based on the paleness of Daenerys and Rhaegar, which was very much identical to Visenya, she imagined it was between the two of them that had allowed the sun to redden their skin.
Just then, in the midst of laughter, a man came into the room. He was of the Kingsguard, Ser Velaryon, if Visenya could correctly put a name to face. It was the man that Rhaegar oft had guarding him. Ser Jaime, Ser Loras, and all of the rest were split betwixt the rest of the Targaryens, few as they were in number. Well, except for Prince Lewyn; the man looked stern, but he'd been sweet in the scant few words Visenya had shared with him.
That man, Ser Velaryon, went right over to Rhaegar and spoke in a hushed tone directly into the King's ear. Visenya knew just as the others did, that something of at least some importance had occurred. If that wasn't the case, Ser Velaryon would not have chosen to interrupt the evening's festivities as he had.
Visenya did hope it was nothing horrible.
"Children, Sister, Wife," Rhaegar said as he rose with a noise of exertion; the same one that nearly every man had risen with when they did so rise. "Forgive me, there's a matter that needs seeing to. I'll not be gone long… Daenerys, perhaps you might speak with the others."
In an instant, the eyes, Visenya's included, shifted over to Daenerys as Rhaegar made to leave. When he stopped midway through the door and beckoned one to come forth, Visenya half-thought he'd meant for her to come with him until Aegon rose with a barely-audible huff. Together, the two men of House Targaryen took their leave from the womenfolk of the family and left, off to see to whatever matter of importance had risen so late in the day.
Strangely, without the presence of Rhaegar and Aegon, Visenya felt immediately more at ease. It was not fear that drove her towards the feelings of discomfort when in their presence, in fact, the concoction she'd oft feel was entirely too complex to put into words. Suffice it to say, Aegon's gaze and Rhaegar's incessant bids to get to know more of her were the most prominent causes.
"Finally," Rhaenys said as she took up Rhaegar's old spot, plopping down atop the couch with an arm sliding around Daenerys. "I had thought we'd never be given time to speak with one another."
Daenerys, who was laughing and trying to shrug off Rhaenys' arm, responded whilst Elia seemed deep in thought. "Stop it," she said with a giggle. "Your brother and father are fine. If anything, it's you that's oft getting herself into trouble where it needn't exist — I hear tell that you and Aegon are already squabbling over Visenya."
"I saw her first and I'm the oldest," Rhaenys said definitively as if that would solve the entirety of the argument with scant few words needing to be further wasted on the topic.
Possessive doesn't begin to describe the Princess, Visenya thought inwardly, and as she looked at Rhaenys. When the two made contact, she looked away whilst Daenerys spoke again, only the words didn't register to Visenya as she finished her earlier thought. The Queen's warning was rightly given.
"...me, did you?"
Visenya cocked her head, those long, whitish strands of her hair getting in her way as she made to look at Daenerys. When she was so lost in thought, she'd forget the colour of her hair, liberated as it was; that wasn't the only new portion of information she'd forget either. All the same, her eyes went downcast as she mumbled to Daenerys in response.
"My apologies, I didn't hear you."
Inwardly, and as she spoke aloud the apology, she berated herself. It wouldn't do if she seemed so absent-minded. If she were to be Visenya Targaryen, she needed to be more aware and beautiful, and girlish. Girls in the South wore pretty dresses rather than riding pants or breeches, and they certainly didn't practice riding or any form of combat, be it melee or archery.
"Apologies?" Daenerys parroted back, a look of confusion that quickly gave way to a pout-like smile as she leaned closer. One hand brushed away Visenya's errant strands of hair and the other pushed her chin up so that the two could make eye contact. "You're my favourite."
There was a gasp. "Daenerys," Rhaenys said, a hand on her chest. "You betray me."
Daenerys rolled her eyes and shortly thereafter, her neck so as to look at Rhaenys. All the while, her hands took hold of Visenya's and they began to weave around one another. "Please. You're not nearly as adorable as Visenya — she's even smaller than I and with more manners than any I've met before."
"You forgot something," Elia finally said, speaking up as a hand of hers wound itself in silverish hair atop Visenya's head.
"Oh?" Daenerys asked, her brows rising as she looked at Elia in anticipation all the whilst Rhaenys pouted. "Do tell, good sister."
Elia's answer made Visenya blush all the more than she'd already been. It was so impressive a display and so embarrassing, that Visenya was more than content to allow the rest of the night to pass her by as the other women spoke.
"Her accent," Elia had said.
Visenya would go on to be gushed about for nearly an hour until the men returned, a meal was had and jovial times came with it.
Daenerys most certainly hadn't been what Visenya was expecting. There had been rumours of her being sweet, shy and soft-spoken, other rumours made mention of her being wanton and lustful, and there were few that even claimed she had designs for the Throne. All were quite wrong.
She was bold, sharp-witted, kind, and very beautiful.
Visenya allowed sleep to claim her with a smile on her face.
When next Visenya rose the following morning, her head a touch woozy from the wine she'd drank the eve prior — she'd not thought it to be quite that strong — it was to a person at the foot of her bed. It was not one that would be unbeknownst to her, but one that was she very familiar with, and one that was not at all surprising to have waking her up.
It was the second figure, the one beside her that made her raise her brows despite the fog that rattled her mind, freshly awoken as it was.
"Goo—" Visenya yawned. "Morning," she finished sheepishly.
After she greeted her 'two' sisters, she pulled the covers higher, covering her more completely than they'd already been doing. When she had returned to her chambers the eve prior, she had not washed or changed into nightclothes; she'd thrown off her dress, climbed under the covers and allowed sleep to take her.
Who wished to bathe or change when one could barely stand?
"Tired, 'Senya?" Rhaenys asked with a fond smile on her face as she sat at the foot of the bed. One of her hands came up to trace shapes, random as they were, atop Visenya's covered calf. "I hope not."
"Why?" Visenya asked immediately.
"We're to be having more arrivals in the family, and soon. My brother, and shortly thereafter, the Martells," Daenerys, the smaller figure, said. In one hand was a glass of wine, and in the other, a fruit. "
That was right. Visenya remembered talk of others arriving.
"When might they be here?"
Rhaenys laughed. "This very day, based on the ravens we've received. Uncle Viserys, Uncle Oberyn, and many of our cousins. You'll finally get to meet them."
"How exciting," Daenerys said with a clap that showed her eagerness.
If anything, the little show of casualness put Visenya at ease. Daenerys seemed… fun, at least more so than Aegon or Rhaegar.
Then, as if it were on cue, the two other women in the room looked at one another, before they looked at Visenya. Ultimately, it was Daenerys that spoke first.
"Might I — might we, rather," Daenerys then indicated between herself and Rhaenys. "— aid you in picking what you'll wear? Please?"
"Please," Rhaenys begged in tandem with their aunt. "We could do your hair, pick out the dress and do what little else you need. Whensoever Daenerys is here, we've always done as much together."
Daenerys nodded. "I'd not wish to press you, neither of us would, Rhaenys," even Visenya could pick up the change in tone at the mention of her literal sister, "But it'd mean much and more to us."
"Could I bathe first?" Visenya queried. Her eyes shifted between the two women, and when she made contact with Daenerys' gaze, strong as it was, she looked away as if on reflex. The girl, similar in size and youth as she was to Visenya, was the quintessential Targaryen; something as simple as that observation caused memories to be brought forth along with all the warnings therein.
It'd take time to remedy that completely.
"Bathe, we'll wait for you to dress in a robe, and then we'll do your hair and help decide what you'll wear," Daenerys began to turn around, but then she stopped and looked back at Visenya. "Might we get ready here with you? I'd love your opinion, Rhaenys does claim that your tastes vastly differ from hers."
Visenya nearly snorted, but instead, she nodded demurely. "Rhaenys speaks truly, and yes, you can dress here too."
Daenerys' answering smile was all the response Visenya needed as her aunt grabbed Rhaenys' hand and pulled her from the room. It was evident that Rhaenys wished to stay, to smother Visenya with the affection she'd been doing, but Rhaenys wouldn't refuse Daenerys' company.
Again, Visenya's thoughts about Daenerys shifted. For one of an equal size and with so many rumours floating around, Daenerys might very well be amongst the best of the Targaryens thus far. It was but she and Elia that didn't seem to smother Visenya in every action.
Visenya yawned, shoved off the covers and started toward the adjoining room when she heard the servants that had entered behind the Princesses, leave. In the room they'd come from was a basin full-up with water, steaming and hot, and with petals and oils by the side of it.
A privilege of her royal blood, but one she'd had in the North; the similar bathing habits were amongst the most calming moments of her recent days.
Done with bathing and dressed in a warm, tightly-wound robe, Visenya called forth for Daenerys and Rhaenys to join her once more. In mere seconds, the door of her chambers was opened and closed in quick succession, and in came the two Princesses, each with a smile on their face.
But it wasn't just a smile that the two other women possessed. In their arms were cloths piled so high in their arms, that their vision was partially obscured; Visenya could make out accessories, perfumes and soaps too. It seemed Daenerys and Rhaenys each intended to make the most of Visenya's earlier agreement.
Visenya, for her part, wasn't wholly against the idea… it was strange, certainly, but mayhaps the two would treat her in a fashion she hadn't known she'd been missing for years. The chance wasn't incredibly high, but Visenya wouldn't be totally against it — she could appreciate a good dress or good-smelling perfume.
"We're back," Rhaenys announced as she set down the many dressed and other items she'd brought atop one of Visenya's chairs. "You bathed quick, sister. Are you eager?"
Visenya, in truth, had bathed quickly so as to ensure she wouldn't leave them waiting very long, and so that they — Rhaenys — wouldn't come in to check on her. "I am," she agreed nonetheless, not wishing to upset Rhaenys. "Will this include one of those massages Aegon oft speaks about?"
Daenerys gasped and looked over at Rhaenys, slapping lightly the girl's upper arm. "Rhaenys!" she scolded, much to Visenya's confusion.
Rhaenys' too, apparently, for the accosted Princess looked at her aunt queerly, before speaking whilst stepping away. "Visenya makes mention of when I weave my hands through Aegon's hair until sleep claims him, Aunt, nothing else."
"Oh."
Daenerys' answer and the blush that came, as a result, made Visenya look away just as the former girl did shortly thereafter. The misunderstanding made sense, especially given the family… by the Gods, it was still strange to think about in their midst; was incest still practised?
From what Visenya knew, the answer was yes.
"With that over, 'Senya, 'Naerys, come with me," Rhaenys grabbed one of Visenya's hands, and then one of Daenerys' after she spoke, and occupied once more, she pulled the two over to the looking glass. In an instant, she was beckoning up and down the pair of them, speaking of matters Visenya had no knowledge of.
It was as if fashion and the tastes thereof as well as the words were completely different from that of the North. Fa— Lord Stark. Lord Stark, she had to think of him as such from henceforth, had ensured she knew the basics of weaving and clothing, and together with Sansa, the two of them had made many a wondrous dress; their craftsmanship and styles to that of what Visenya saw atop her chair…
They weren't comparable. In truth, Visenya was a spectator as the two women spoke with Viseny betwixt them, the occasional hand plucking at one spot or another as they discussed what might they do.
It was educative and when Rhaenys began to play with her hair whilst Daenerys took her sizes for future dresses, very enjoyable.
Eventually, the preparation came to an end, and the three Princesses were prepared to greet the Martell delegation, and later, Viserys. Each, like Daenerys, was to visit for Visenya's announcement to the realm, as well as something of a nature Visenya knew not; Daenerys, Rhaenys, Aegon, none of them seemed to know what the secondary announcement would be either.
"I dare say many a Lord might do something foolish to gain your favour," Daenerys said as the trio made toward the King's chambers.
Dressed, adorned in fine jewellery and bathed in the finest smelling perfumes, the three Princesses had nought but joining the family left before they ventured out. Visenya, meanwhile, found herself impressed, or perhaps, more comfortable, when she drew a parallel between the Starks and Targaryens again. This time, it wasn't a comparison between Arya, Robb, Aegon and Rhaenys, but of the families as a whole; Rhaegar wished to greet family and guests of importance as soon as they arrived, much like Nuncle Stark.
The two men, for all of their hatred toward one another, were more alike than either would ever come to recognise.
"One already has. Garlan the 'Gallant' —" Rhaenys scoffed "— dared to venture into Maegor's Holdfast using the cover of Lord Tyrell's title as Hand. Mother and Father weren't happy."
"Nor were you," Visenya added cheekily, her playfulness getting the better of her.
Daenerys giggled. It was a demure, girlish noise the likes of which Sansa would make. "Rhaenys was never very good at sharing in her youth. I'm not surprised to see that remains unchanged. I can only imagine how smothered you'll be… that is unless you'd like to come back to Dragonstone with me sometime. Aegon isn't very fond of it, so I tend to enjoy it on my lonesome."
"No. Absolutely not," Rhaenys said, butting in as she wrapped an arm around Visenya's shoulders and pulled the smaller girl into her side. There was playfulness in her tone, and she made to tickle Visenya, but there was an edge of seriousness that the two quintessential Targaryens detected. "Visenya has yet to visit Dorne, a trip you tend not to make all that oft either."
"It's far too hot," Daenerys said with a huff as she folded her arms.
Visenya couldn't help herself at the image her lookalike presented. It was so very Arya-like; already, Visenya knew she'd come to love Daenerys.
"Here's quite hot as well," Visenya agreed as she looked around. The imagery of the halls, that being tapestries, busts and the Targaryen coat-of-arms spread all throughout was grand, and the archways, ornate. Aside from the grandiose imagery, there was precious little that might allow a breeze to cool the place down. "That man, Ser Garlan, will many be like him?"
"Do you mean to ask if many will try and get as close to you as possible, or that many will attempt to burst through the walls of the Holdfast?" Rhaenys asked with a grin as they turned the final corner that might lead them to the King's chambers.
Daenerys responded for her. "The former, rather than the latter, if I were to guess. It'd be quite horrible if we found ourselves confined to our chambers on account of an army of suitors."
Together, all three giggled. Visenya felt a hand squeeze her left one a few seconds later, and recognising that it belonged to Daenerys, she squeezed back. In the two days time she had gotten to know Daenerys, the other woman had nearly surpassed Rhaenys.
"Father would handle them all," Rhaenys said with a wink to Visenya, before finally, the trio reached the entrance to Rhaegar's chambers, whereupon doing so, they were announced and ushered in.
Rhaegar, Aegon and Elia were already inside, dressed in their finery and adorned with majestic jewellery the likes of which Visenya could never have dreamt of previously. In Marna's life, her earlier life, a palace, days filled with sun, jewellery… all were so very far away.
"Daughters, Sister," Rhaegar said with a smile as he rose to his full height and beckoned Elia forth, sliding his arm through hers. "Beautiful as ever, all of you. Are we ready?"
Each of the Princesses gave an answer. Daenerys' was energetic and eager, Rhaenys' was confident and loud, and Visenya's was quiet, and with trepidation. Viserys Targaryen was oft not spoken of all that much. At least, not in so far as she knew; Nuncle Stark had never really brought the man up.
The Martells, however, were a completely different case. It wasn't that Visenya knew little of them — which one could also claim was true to some degree — it was her lineage. Her mother, Lyanna Stark, had been born of a second spouse that Rhaegar had taken. Rhaenys, Elia, and the others might claim there was no ill-intent toward her, but could that be true?
It hadn't been with Catelyn Stark, a sinister portion of her mind said.
Visenya shook that thought from her mind almost as immediately as it had arrived. It had little need to be present. Thus, she was content to walk along the halls of Maegor's Holdfast, breezy, smelling of the ocean and filled to the brim with Targaryens.
How strange her life had become.
Visenya, with the rest of House Targaryen, had practically been secreted away as soon as they had stepped foot out of Maegor's Holdfast. It wasn't quite as exciting as one might think, no, the Kingsguard and men-at-arms that followed after them were simply quick to load the Royal Family in their comfortable carriages before they themselves climbed aboard stalwart steeds.
To Visenya, the horses were of far greater interest than the cabin she was to share with Rhaenys, Daenerys and Aegon. Many seemed to be of a less sturdy design in comparison to the behemoths of the North, and they lacked the same thick, long hair the mounts she was used to riding oft had. It made sense, and if she remembered correctly, the Dornish steeds most of all were vastly different to those she was used to.
"Rhaenys, Aegon?" Visenya chose to ask, her thoughts finished as she made to close the viewing slit. Her voice was small, as was oft the case when in the company of so many Targaryens. That would change eventually, she promised herself… she was just still too nervous with so many around.
They were royalty all their lives and learned to fear nothing; she'd been so different.
"What is it, sister?" Aegon asked. Like always, he wore a smile when he gazed at her.
Rhaenys' hand found hers from across the carriage; Daenerys had stolen the seat beside Visenya. "Yes, 'Senya?"
"Could you tell me of Dorne? Of the Horses, more specifically?" Visenya shared a look with Daenerys, one that caused both girls to smile girlishly as their hands found one another once more. "I'd like to hear of them."
In an instant, Aegon, rather than Rhaenys, jumped at the opportunity as it had been presented. Daenerys, meanwhile, remained silent and supportive, with that same genuine, goofy look about her. One that Visenya was certain that she mirrored if her twin 'sister' was anything to go by.
"They are very agile beasts, quick, and can do better than all in the heat," Aegon said as he championed the cause of Dornish steeds. "Say the word, sister, and I will see to it that you have the finest in the realm."
"For once, Aegon boasts properly — our family has long ridden atop the greatest of mounts. If you want for one, it's yours," Rhaenys finished with her nose raised and with a smile that was similar to that which Aegon wore upon his face.
"I would quite like to ride one," Visenya said politely, her eyes flickering betwixt her two true siblings across from her. It needn't matter which she lingered on, she was certain either would get jealous if she did so overly long.
"Done."
One word, but one that was said twice between Aegon and Rhaenys.
"Why don't you describe it in greater detail, Niece, Nephew? You might very well describe Dorne as a whole, or Lord Oberyn — Visenya should know the names of her cousins before ever she meets them," Daenerys offered helpfully, and when it seemed as if Aegon or Rhaenys might compete as to who would get the steed for her first.
It was always a competition between the two.
And thus it was. Aegon and Rhaenys throughout the entirety of the carriage trip to the King's Gate, spoke of the Dornish Steeds, the Martells, and the Sand Snakes. The Sand Snakes, a term which Visenya had never heard before, would come to be particularly important; it was they who were her cousins, and all were bastards. She had learned about an innocent-looking blonde by the name of Tyene, a beauty of typical Dornish lineage in Nymeria, a strong and tough woman by way of Obara, and many more.
The information lingered mostly around Oberyn, his… paramour, by the Gods, did that make Visenya blush as much as his number of kids had, and the four daughters he'd brought along with him for the trip. Most would remain behind in Dorne, at the Water Gardens or in and around Sunspear.
Aegon and Rhaenys each were incessant that they visit soon, that being Dorne, but more specifically, the two places in which they spoke oft and loudly about during their journey; the Water Gardens, and Sunspear. Visenya swore that by the time they had finally reached the King's Gate, she could recite nearly as much about the aforementioned places as she could of the tower she'd spent much and more of her life inside of.
It was, if nothing else, a testament to the importance of Dorne to the Crown.
"There!" Aegon said suddenly, so suddenly that the other three occupants of the carriage were startled.
Rhaenys slapped his upper arm, and with narrowed eyes, she chastised him. "Don't speak so suddenly and so loudly. You'll worry our sister and 'Naerys," and then, Rhaenys pushed him aside to peer out of the slit he'd opened. "And where? I don't see our banners."
"Your mother's banners," Daenerys corrected with her tongue sticking out at Rhaenys when the older girl turned to look at her. When the two made eye contact, Daenerys' face turned goofier and Rhaenys' expression, previously annoyed at Aegon's sudden outburst, melted.
"And," Aegon added, "You were 'worried' just the same as Visenya and Daenerys."
As before, Rhaenys' expression shifted when Aegon attempted to rile her up. "I'll show you worried when next we spar in the yard, baby brother," Rhaenys said, though the tone seemed not entirely vindictive or hostile; there was a strange tone that Visenya couldn't quite identify. It was gone when her attention shifted back to Daenerys. "You're right, of course, 'Naerys. All the same, I see them not."
"Perhaps we should have the Grand Maester check your vision, Queen of Thorns," Aegon snickered.
This time, Rhaenys and Daenerys both laughed at the joke, all the while, Visenya looked between the three. She wasn't remotely sure who the Queen of Thorns was, but it seemed the joke was made in good taste.
"Children," it was the voice of Elia that sounded from outside their carriage. "Oberyn and Ellaria are here to greet you. Come."
That was all it took for Aegon to push open the door and jump out in the same fashion Robb, Bran and all the others would dismount from their horses; the same fashion Visenya would oft do as well. Rhaenys followed after him, one dainty hand grabbing hold of his as she stepped down prissily. Daenerys did much the same, and then, Aegon's hand was beckoning her forth.
She looked at him more closely, and as had nearly always been the case, he wore a smile. It seemed hopeful and pleasant, and most certainly dashing. He'd make a woman pleased someday, she was sure.
"Thank you," she said demurely as she shifted closer to him.
"Of course," Aegon said as his smile grew wider whilst her feet made contact with the ground. No sooner than that, a question burst free of his lips. "Might I have the pleasure of escorting you?"
Visenya looked him over once, her eyes attempting to seek out his true intentions. Aside from the smile that seemed to be a mainstay upon Aegon's face, he seemed polite and genuine, enough so that Visenya saw no reason to withhold herself from him. Mayhaps time would give her a reason, and mayhaps in that same vain, Aegon might show himself to be the noble, kind-hearted Prince tales were oft told about.
"You honour me, sister," Aegon said as his smile grew and as he started them off with the rest of House Targaryen. "I'll be the first man to be seen by the masses escorting you."
"Man, baby brother?" Rhaenys tutted at him. Daenerys and she then exchanged glances, silent and meaningful; silence settled.
Well, for a few seconds. It wasn't long before the Targaryens reached their guests at the rather large, guard-heavy gate; the King's Gate. There were Martell banners aplenty, along with others the likes of which Visenya didn't immediately recognise. Mayhaps it was stupid of her to say to others should they find out, but she'd never thought she'd find herself so far South.
Why learn the banners and history of places so irrelevant to oneself?
"This is her?"
Those were the first words free from the man's mouth, a man of taller-than-average height, dark skin and darker, short-cropped hair, as he looked Visenya over. The resemblance to Elia, the Queen, was very easy to decipher.
The manner in which the woman spoke to this man, Oberyn Martell, betrayed their relationship just as easily as their looks. "Oberyn," Elia said in a manner that was most certainly chastising, and whilst she shook her head from side to side. "This is Visenya Targaryen, Princess and my third child."
Oberyn remained silent, as did the rest of the party. Aegon and Rhaenys looked at the man with expressions more serious than Visenya could recall — aside from their initial meeting. With nought but the sweltering heat bearing down on her oppressively, the occasional gust of wind and birdsong that made it bearable, and the cough of a man that must be boiling, there reigned silence for seconds unending.
Until the silence was broken with laughter. It came from Oberyn, and it was directed at Elia. "My sister, she is fierce as ever, no?" Oberyn asked his paramour with a gesture to the aforementioned Queen. He looked back at Elia then, his face betraying affection and happiness rather than the stoic mask he'd previously worn. "It is as you say, sister. Whenever are Doran and I able to go against you?"
Elia smiled winningly, and smugly. "Never."
Visenya felt a sudden connection in her mind. Aegon and Rhaenys behaved so similarly to Elia and Oberyn, to Arya and Robb; had Lord Stark robbed her so? In other existence, might she have had such a relationship with Rhaenys? With Aegon? With both?
The thought turned her feelings decidedly in the direction of wishful and mournful, a queer, but common combination in recent times. King's Landing might be the home of her father, of her siblings by blood, but she doubted it would truly be a place she'd be glad to call home. If not for the heat, the stench, and if not the stench, the strangeness of those who lived upon the land.
"She's a beauty."
Those were the words that finally garnered Visenya's attention once more, and mostly due to the fact that the man who spoke them, was now, very suddenly, standing right before her. Elia and Rhaegar were on his left, and his woman, on his right. Daenerys, Aegon, and Rhaenys, the three of them had remained beside Visenya.
His eyes betrayed a curiosity, one that seemed to have a depth beyond the gazes of most. Fortunately, her fears were eased when she detected not even the faintest hint of wrathfulness or scorn when her eyes connected with his. In truth, he seemed a kind, fun, but grizzled and dangerous man.
Elia seemed to agree with his earlier words, speaking and pulling Visenya free of her own observations. "Our Visenya's a beauty, you speak true," she drew forward so fluidly it might seem as if she'd been swimming and, whilst smiling at Visenya, raised a hand to stroke her hair. "I pity the Lordlings who behold her — she'll be their ruin."
Oberyn snorted, opened his mouth, and… was firmly silenced by a stern look from Elia. Based on the snicker from his paramour and Visenya's siblings, the words in which he'd been about to speak were more than likely not very proper. That didn't seem all that surprising in the scant little she knew of the man and the bits of information she'd been fed about him.
"Sister, Rhaegar," Oberyn said her father's name with a bow of his head, showing respect, but familiarity the likes of which Visenya was very surprised to see allowed. "Mi—"
Elia rolled her eyes and shared a look of exasperation with Visenya, playful and light-hearted, and then she spoke, cutting off Oberyn. "Yes, yes," she said as she waved her hand as if she'd heard it all before. "We'll get you to the Keep, whereupon arrival you'll rest in your chambers, sneak whores into your apartments and then join us for dinner in our chambers. We shan't skip the usual schedule, is that right?"
Visenya wasn't surprised to learn in the next few seconds, that Elia was right. But that wasn't the last she'd see of Oberyn. Tired and in a mood as he was, he made a point to kiss her hand, look her in the eyes and promise to speak with her when evening came and a meal, shared.
It was only when he was further away and walking with his paramour back toward whence they'd come that Aegon asked a question.
"What of our cousins?"
Visenya had hardly remembered Oberyn's children were supposed to have arrived too. Cousins, or so they'd claim based on what Elia and Visenya's true siblings had claimed.
Much of the trip back had been spent with playful banter, and following the trip, Visenya had bathed and went to rest in the comfort of her covers. Dinner would not come for an hour or shortly thereafter, and thus, she was left to do as she desired… within Maegor's Holdfast. If there was one comparison, betwixt the Holdfast and her former tower, the former was larger and certainly more luxurious.
The company, in comparison, would always be skewed in favour of the Starks. She longed for her siblings — cousins. Robb and Arya especially.
Rickon, Visenya thought, her body rising seemingly of its own accord. I would be wise to visit him again. He is here, with us, and my time is my own, for a change.
That was most certainly true. Oftentimes, nearly all the time, in truth, her time was structured and spent in the company of others. Be it Rhaenys or Elia, or on rarer occasions, Aegon or Rhaegar, Visenya was seldom alone. On occasion, she would admit that privacy would be most welcome, though she'd dare not say such words aloud.
And yet, alone as I am, I seek out Rickon, she thought with a shake of her head.
When that happened, when Visenya shook gently her head from side to side, it caused her long, silverish locks to fall free. One after another, her vision was blinded by errant hair of a colour that still felt unfamiliar; she blew, pushing it aside. The curtain of hair felt as familiar to her as her new bed, in her new room, in a new land.
Visenya huffed and rolled over. In an instant, she propelled herself upwards, her feet landing with a light slapping sound as bare skin made contact with the cool stone. For a moment, she wiggled her toes and grinned, the coolness feeling familiar and comforting. It brought her, momentarily, back to a tower she'd long called home.
Seconds later, she was ripped from such fond memories when a servant or man-at-arms tripped, and a loud clanging sound came as a result of their misdeed. Visenya looked away from the floor, her toes ceased their wiggling, and she started toward her wardrobe; in the span of three birdsongs sounding, she was dressed and presentable.
By her standards, at the very least. In her mind, she was presentable so long as most of her were covered, her hair wasn't wild as Arya's, and her scent was that of flowers and oils. It was the latter most of all that proved troublesome, for oft it would be said she smelt of the woods or horse.
As if they possessed a mind of their own, Visenya's leg muscles flexed for a moment. They longed to feel the saddle, and she longed for the wind whipping through her hair. Mayhaps a ride could be had… once she was announced to the realm. That seemed a task the Targaryens would allow.
Visenya could hope.
It took nought but a scant few words said softly into the ear of a Kingsguard and Visenya found herself outside the chambers of Rickon. The trip was quick and without incident, least of all one by way of a Tyrell that had sought her out. It seemed unnerving, truly, how desperate the nobility seemed to steal a glance of her.
Many might not see me for moons to come, and yet, commoners have glimpsed me. How jealous they must be, Visenya nearly let loose a giggle, but she stopped short of doing so and turned her attention over to the door before her. It was guarded by two men, Targaryen men-at-arms.
In her best attempt at royal authority, Visenya stood tall, raised her nose and spoke. "Open the door, Ser," she said to the older man, and not unkindly.
"Yes, Princess," the man said in an instant, his eyes flickering from her to the Kingsguard over her shoulder — Ser Jonothor — and back to her, before ultimately, his eyes went downcast. The other man, all the while, simply put a hand to the door and pushed it open as she'd bid them to do.
"Thank you, Sers," Visenya said with a smile freely given to the pair. They would be treated as she'd treated the Stark men-at-arms that'd guarded her for six and ten years, or thereabouts. "I'd like to be undisturbed unless it's an emergency, Ser Jonothor."
"As you wish, Princess," the Good Knight responded in a baritone as he took up position outside of the door whilst she entered.
When Visenya was completely within the confines of Rickon's chamber, and she made to close the door, she could already see the Kingsguard had taken up his vigil with all the seriousness that was expected of them. He was stoic, attentive and ready to protect her at the slightest provocation.
Visenya still remembered when the Kingsguard, Ser Jaime or Ser Jonothor, had set their hand upon the pommel of their sword when the Tyrell had appeared. It was protective in a manner that she found endearing.
Th—
"Marna!"
And like that, Marna's line of thinking was disrupted as a blur, Rickon, struck her side. In an instant, his arms, small as the rest of them, found purchase wheresoever they could. It was clear, abundantly so, that he longed for in the brief time since last she'd visited.
Her hands found their way around him, and with a minor effort, Marna took Rickon up and into her arms. It'd been more than a moon or so, since last she'd fully wrapped him up and aloft, and in that time, he felt heavier than ever before; mayhaps that was a testament to his treatment. Regardless, as she moved to the bed, and her hands played with his hair whilst retaining him, she felt at ease.
It wasn't the same feeling she'd have when Aegon or Rhaenys were near. More oft than not, the two would set her on an edge of sorts. Marna wished to tread carefully, it would be wise to do so… but with Rickon, it was far from necessary. He was as a brother to her. From when first he opened his eyes until the day would come wherein she'd close hers, Rickon would be present.
"I missed you, little brother," Marna cooed as she sank atop the mattress installed in his chambers. One that was as soft and fur-covered as any boy could dream for. "Have they been treating you well? Do you need anything?"
Rickon didn't seem to hear her as he burrowed his head into her chest whilst his arms encircled her. If anything, he seemed all the more intent on keeping his grasp of her. She understood.
Thus, with Rickon in her arms, her hands wove through the hair atop his head and traced circles upon his back. In her dreams, ones that felt as real as memories, her mother had done much the same for her. With Rickon, it worked completely and utterly. He went from latching onto her without any intent to let go, to asleep, sound and innocent as all children were.
Marna had wished to converse with him, to inquire about how everything was, but it could wait. As she looked down at him, his face content and free of worry — a sight she was grateful to see — she couldn't find it within herself to be disappointed.
Scant as it might have been, she'd gotten to spend time with her little brother. That time reminded her of who she'd been. Who she was. Who she shouldn't be. By the Gods, with Rickon present and the Targaryens visiting her as oft they did, it was as if two worlds were bearing down on her, and she was nought but a spectator.
It felt horrible.
"Princess," a man's voice said as the state of consciousness was returned to her. The man's voice was gentle but incessant, loud enough to make her rise, but without much emotion or feeling in the words that he spoke. The voice came again as she blinked herself awake. "Princess. The King requests your presence post-haste — there was mention of a welcoming feast for Prince Oberyn."
Visenya was roused then. In fact, it gave reason for her to rise so rapidly, that she nearly did so without thought. Fortunately, the weight upon her chest was felt as she came to from a nap she'd not intended to take, and so she remained aware of Rickon, asleep as he was; lucky for him, he'd not end up propelled to the floor.
"We'll leave immediately, Ser Jonothor," Visenya answered in a whisper, her voice as light as the wind as she made to stand very carefully.
It was with one hand propping up Rickon's head, and the other allowing her to hold up his body as she manoeuvred away from him, that Visenya managed to get free. There was a look cast over her shoulder at the sleeping figure of her little brother, but it was fleeting, and then Visenya was gone, the door to his chambers closed shortly thereafter. By the time that came, Visenya was already a dozen steps away if not more with Ser Jonothor and a half-dozen of their Household Guard behind her.
"Are we late, Ser?" Visenya asked, unaware of the hour.
"No, Princess. It was by way of the Queen's instructions that I was to send for you early," the man responded. His answer gave precious little away, and when his second sentence was spoken, it left Visenya feeling curious.
Why had Elia sought her out early, before the feast was to begin officially?
Visenya had half a mind to inquire further, but ultimately, she decided that wasn't the course of action she'd take. The Kingsguard wasn't likely to know much more in the first place, and beyond that, the time in which she'd speak with the Queen was rapidly approaching. In fact, it wasn't more than a few dozen steps away.
"Princess," greeted another man, one that was standing outside the entrance of the Royal Couple's chambers. He was of the Kingsguard too, but his face was yet to have a name put to it, at least, not that she could recall.
"Prince Lewyn," whispered Ser Jonothor, his face barely shifting as he gave the other man's name.
Visenya felt her lips rise into a smile at the aid given freely. "Greetings, Prince Lewyn. I'm here to meet with the Queen."
In hindsight, mayhaps the latter portion of her sentence hadn't been necessary. If any were to know who was expected at the royal chambers, it would be they who guarded it.
The man, Prince Lewyn, gave her a nod and made an announcement shortly thereafter. When next he spoke, it was when Visenya made to move past him. "Ser Jonothor and I shall wait outside, Princess."
Visenya nodded in much the same way that he previously had, and following the exchange closed the door that led into her parents' chambers. When she twirled upon the balls of her feet so that she might take in the entirety of the opening room — one that wasn't entirely unfamiliar to her — she spotted Elia in the back centre of it, near a balcony approach.
"Elia," Visenya called tentatively as she slowly moved toward the woman. Mother was very nearly the word that flew free of her lips, but trepidation made itself known as soon as the word had appeared in her mind's eye. Enough so that Elia was what went forth.
For her part, Elia didn't seem to mind the lack of a royal or parental moniker. If Visenya were to guess based on previous happenings, the woman was more than likely plenty-thrilled enough, for Visenya had failed to address the woman as nought more than Queen or Your Grace in the earliest memories the two shared.
"Visenya," Elia returned with a smile as she all but swept across the floor until she was before Visenya, her arms settling on the latter girl's smaller figure. "Whensoever I see you I still can't believe you're real — forgive me for the intrusion into your night and before our festivities begin, but… mayhaps you'll have to forgive me twice."
Visenya's brows creased together. "Twice?" she asked. Even the first 'offence', one that had been nought but an exclamation, had hardly been worthy of an apology.
"Twice," Elia confirmed. Her arm swept outwards then, gesturing to an adjoining room filled to the brim with dresses, perfumes and all manner of items fit for feminine service. "I had thought with this being the first festivity with nearly the entirety of our family, that you might let me aid you as Rhaenys and Daenery had when first Oberyn saw you."
It shan't be said that Visenya did anything but agree in the blink of an eye. She was all too happy to spend time with Elia and Elia alone, for the woman was kind, caring and so very knowledgeable. Most of all, and mayhaps the most endearing quality that beckoned Visenya to be drawn to her as she was, would be Elia's quality of maternal love.
From the time she arrived until the start of the feast, from birdsong as the sun set to when more torches required lighting for the feast that would soon start, Visenya had loved every second of idle conversation.
Chapter 7: Introductions
Notes:
I felt like uploading this. Finally. It went through 4 revision periods, and I'm still not totally happy with it.
Shoutout to Tannerite, Kryn_Womble and Sonicmalibu for all sorts of assistance going forward (take a look back, you might notice a few minor changes thanks to their insight and help!) Thank you all very much for reading!
Feel free to join my Discord for updates, giveaways, some sneak peeks, art, early access and story information, link on my profile.
Chapter Text
Visenya was ready. Elia had seen to that most expeditiously. It wasn’t all that surprising when one thought of the experience Elia might have in regard to fashion and hairdressing. Rhaenys, Daenerys and her own life all coalesced to form a quickness of action that Visenya doubted she’d ever achieve.
Least of all when children were most certainly not in her future. She could have them, but why do so? Southron men were strange, kept to Gods alien to her, and boyish. The vast majority didn’t so much as have a speckling of facial hair; Visenya imagined Robb could put them to shame at the age of ten and five. It was astounding how the womenfolk of the South thought their men ‘tough’ or tale-worthy.
Visenya wrinkled her nose at the perfume cloud she walked through. Elia had sprayed a tough from many a bottle, and as one might suspect, the cloud that lingered where she’d done so was still quite prevalent… it smelt nice if overbearing in the myriad of scents.
“Oberyn will love you, you’ll see,” Elia remarked as the older woman’s hand grabbed hold of one of Visenya’s own. “I dare say both of my brothers will come to love you just as much as they love Aegon and Rhaenys.”
Visenya wanted to smile, she truly did, but she wasn’t a Northern fool as many might suspect of her; not Elia, particularly, but she knew what the Southerners thought of those from the North. Lady Stark hadn’t come to love her for ten and six years, or near enough, so what reason was there to suspect others not officially of her blood would?
“Thank you,” Visenya said, awkwardness filling her. Such words and feelings were, by this time, very familiar to her.
What else might she say to such a comment?
“You’re still uncomfortable here.”
Elia’s words weren’t a question, but a statement. The woman’s eyes bore into Visenya’s face, for eye contact was made impossible when the latter pointedly kept her vision downwards, to that of her lap. The Queen was intimidating by title alone, but Elia… there was a ferocity under the gentlewoman, and Visenya would be keen on avoiding any negative emotions from any person so long as their family name started with a ‘T’ and ended in ‘Argaryen’.
“I’ll adjust,” Visenya said, her eyes maintaining the view of rich fabric the likes of which she’d still not gotten over; it was so exceedingly soft! “I apologise if I com—”
“No,” Elia said, her tone sharp enough that Visenya nearly winced. “No more apologies. In fact, it should be we that apologise to you — had we been wiser, had we been able to find out about you sooner, so much would be different. It’s our burden to bear, not yours. Never yours, my sweet.”
Visenya felt her cheeks twitch, and as seconds ticked by, seconds in which she said nothing, gradual wetness began to slide down as her eyes blinked of their own volition. One hand, soft and small as ever they’d been, came up to wipe away at the treacherous weakness that manifested. She was supposed to be strong, for the Starks.
For her family.
“I’ve gone and ruined the work you did,” Visenya said, a sniffle forcibly coming free of her.
Elia scoffed as her hand wove around Visenya’s shoulders. “We can always fix that later. Come here.”
And Visenya did sans hesitation. In Elia’s arms, small as the woman was, she felt happy. Safe. Loved.
Why was it so different, yet so similar to how it’d been with Father?
When next Visenya and Elia emerged from the private, adjoining room in which they’d share a meal with the entirety of the Targaryen-Martell group, the two no longer found themselves alone. Rhaegar was present and speaking with Oberyn near the head of the dining table, Aegon was with two of Oberyn’s daughters, and Rhaenys was with Daenerys and two others, one of whom was Tyene; the blonde hair gave that away.
“I’m…” Visenya paused when Elia looked down at her, brows raised and head cocked to the side.
“We’re late as any person of importance is,” Elia said when not another word came free of the younger woman’s lips. From there, Elia looped her arm through Visenya’s and led the girl toward the head of the table, where Oberyn and Rhaeger were. “Brother.”
Oberyn’s attention, and Rhaegar’s too, was then shifted from the conversation they’d been sharing, to Visenya and Elia. As he’d previously done, Oberyn took Visenya in with a gaze that wasn’t like that of those she’d seen thus far; perhaps a touch similar only. One thing was certain, he most certainly didn’t seem to think of her as nought but a ‘classic Targaryen beauty’ to be bartered for or lusted after.
He rose from his seat, and with all the manners of a true gentleman, took up one of Visenya’s hands with the most gentle of touches before he brought it up for a kiss. “The Hidden Princess,” he said with a grin, disregarding the expressions or thoughts of Rhaegar and Elia each. “Forgive me for earlier, too long in one saddle and too little time spent in the other left me sour, I fear.”
“Oberyn,” Elia said in warning, and based on the tone, that wasn’t the first time such a warning had needed to be given.
“I jest, I jest,” he said, his grin growing into a smile as he did a once over of Visenya. “It does me well to know my vision remains sharp as ever, you’re a beauty as I said when first I was introduced to you — now, when will you come to Dorne?”
“Oberyn,” Elia sighed and pulled Visenya more firmly to her side. “We’ve only just gotten her. Don’t think you’ll be stealing away my daughter to go gallivanting throughout the countryside or splashing about in the Water Gardens.”
Oberyn pouted in a manner similar to that of Arya and Robb, the look was odd for one so old and battle-hardened. “How else might I spoil my newest niece?” he looked her over again, but this time, he frowned. “Mayhaps the Maester or Tyene might need to stay alongside her. It wouldn’t do if I returned your newest daughter with sun scales.”
Visenya… Visenya wasn’t sure even remotely what she might make of the man. He was spontaneous, his expressions shifted seemingly by the second, and when she took into account the tales told of him, well, he was as a mystery.
In truth, she’d thought he’d dislike her at the very least, if not show outright discontent in her presence. Mayhaps that was the bastard in her speaking.
Something touched her hand. Visenya winced. She pressed further into Elia, the contact startling her from her thoughts. When she took back into account her surroundings and the happenings therein, she took notice of Oberyn examining her more critically, his playful, joyous nature now strained-looking. In the passing of a few more seconds betwixt the foursome, Visenya took note of the looks exchanged by the other three.
Much to her surprise when next the silence that’d befallen the foursome was broken, it was by Oberyn, whose visage was that of kindness when he looked back at her; he seemed a good father with such a kind look. “I will put to ease any worries, child—” his gaze flickered to the King and Queen, then back to her. “You have my assurances that you are to Dorne what Aegon and Rhaenys are. If my brother says otherwise, Elia will show him sense, as she’s always done to him and I both,” When he finished, his hand, rough and manly, found hers as it’d previously done.
And thereupon, he placed a kiss.
“That’s his way of saying he’s glad to have met you, and that he loves you already — Oberyn’s not one for such ‘soft’ words, nor those that might prove too forthcoming,” Elia’s tone was teasing as her hand rubbed up and down Visenya’s arm as the aforementioned man brought her hand — still in his grasp — back up to his mouth for one last kiss. “He’ll not ask either, but I imagine he’d be very keen if you were to offer a shared meal with him, Ellaria and their girls.”
Oberyn smiled wide, his teeth showing and his expression a touch goofy-looking. Visenya couldn’t help but smile at him; yet he was amongst the most dangerous. Supposedly.
Visenya, still a touch too shy to speak to the man, nodded up at Elia, and thenceforth in short order, she was sent over to the gaggle of girls near the balcony. In an instant, Rhaenys and Daenerys snatched her up, one on either side of her; Elia stayed behind to speak with Rhaegar and Oberyn.
“You’re beautiful.”
“She is.”
Rhaenys gave the very same look that Elia previously had to the two foreign girls; Tyene and… Nymeria? Sarella?
It had been Tyene, the small, innocent-looking blonde girl that was just as petite as Visenya that spoke first. In her eyes, there was a fire, a spark, one that was all too oft spotted in Arya’s before she got into particularly repercussion-heavy mischief.
Visenya smiled demurely at the two and mumbled her thanks; she shifted afterwards, more of her hidden behind Rhaenys and Daenerys. Tyene’s gaze in particular felt odd, mayhaps even lustful. Visenya had been warned that Southron women might fancy one another. Given that their father was a man of great renown behind closed doors as much as he was upon the battlefield, Visenya imagined his tastes might have trickled down to his children. Rhaenys and Aegon had alluded to such things during the carriage, wherein Visenya had learned a bit about each of the four Sand Snakes present.
“You’ve not even introduced yourselves and you’re already trying to tease her,” Rhaenys said with a huff, one hand pointing accusingly at Tyene. As for the other, it was firmly keeping hold of Visenya lest she try to leave.
Would that I could go for a ride through the Kingswood, ‘Senya thought morosely.
“Tyene,” the blonde said as she edged closer, her eyes alight with curiosity. “This is Sarella, one of my many baby sisters.”
Sarella rolled her eyes, but she stepped forward in much the same fashion and with a similar look about her; Sarella’s, granted, lacked the untoward undertone that Tyene’s gaze possessed. “I’m Sarella, as Tyene said — forgive me if this is forward too, but, I have an interest in the North. I’ve only ever read about it, you see, and I’m very fond of learning all that I can. Might we meet for a luncheon? On the morrow, mayhaps?”
Rhaenys leaned down, their hair joining together to form a silver-black swirl as her lips moved against Visenya’s ear, her hot breath washing down her neck and causing shivers to form; she was too close, but that didn’t stop her from speaking.
“Sarella’s as likely to bore you to death as Tyene is to accidentally poison you.”
Visenya’s eyes went comically wide, and her look of cautious happiness morphed into one of abject horror.
“Whatever she’s just told you is a lie,” Tyene proclaimed as she stepped closer still, a nosy, ancy quality to her.
“Me? Lie?” Rhaenys gasped, her visage wounded as she pulled away from Visenya. “I’ll have you know I’m the quintessential Princess — pure of heart and mind, beautiful, and honest.”
Silence.
Looks were exchanged in said silence, and then… uproarious laughter the likes of which would scare away many a suitor came. Visenya joined the others, albeit more quietly and reserved, as was her nature. Still, it felt… oddly good to be in the company of the four that she was. There was almost a feeling of normalcy betwixt the group.
That was, until the doors to the chamber burst open, and a man, tall and silver-haired, entered. With nought but a look at the hair atop the man’s ahead, the sense of normalcy fell away, shoving Marna back whence she’d come for the few seconds she’d been released; Visenya rose again.
“Am I late? Did I miss it? Did I miss her?” the man’s voice was loud, he was winded, and when he took in the company, he stopped dead in his tracks. “Oh. You’re all here. Well, that’s quite a horrible entrance, isn’t it? Allow me another.”
And like that, the man that’d just entered left the chambers, going so far as to close the doors with a sheepish expression on his face.
“Well,” Rhaenys said after shaking her head, her eyes finding Visenya’s. “You’ve finally met Uncle Viserys.”
Visenya blinked. Like Daenerys, like all of House Targaryen, from that initial meeting alone the man wasn’t what she’d been expecting. Not even remotely.
Nearly five minutes after Viserys’ initial entrance, one of a panicked nature, he entered again, the doors swinging open for him. This time, he strolled as a Prince might, his nose — sharp as Rhaegar’s was — held aloft with his eyes zoning in on Visenya… for all of a scant few seconds before they found their way much like the rest of his body, over to Rhaegar. She supposed she shouldn’t have been too surprised.
If anything, Visenya was thankful that he’d not come over and speak with her immediately. All of this interaction didn’t agree with her nearly as much as one might suspect. It was foolish, she knew that. Thousands would kill to be where she now found herself, and yet, was she given the option, even now she suspected she’d return whence she’d come.
The chill of the North and her cousins therein had left a hole in her heart that words couldn’t begin to describe. Even as Rhaenys rubbed up and down her arm or combed her hand through Visenya’s hair all the while speaking words of praise, a comparison couldn’t be made.
“... a dreamer, if ever I’ve seen one,” Sarella said, the words a touch louder than the previously hushed tones used betwixt Rhaenys and the two Sand Snakes.
Rhaenys grip of her arm grew firmer and the motion thereof halted altogether. “Visenya’s not grown accustomed to our home yet. How might you feel if you were in her place?”
“Rhaenys’ point is true,” Tyene said sweetly, one hand slowly extending toward the closer of Visenya’s with all the trepidation a huntsman had toward wild animals. “May I, cousin?”
Cousin, Visenya thought inwardly, her brow nearly furrowing at the remark. She’s being polite… why?
Visenya had heard tell of the Southron people and their affinity for schemes. Ask any Northerner, and they’d be loathed to place their trust in one not of their Northern kin. What of those words were true, and what of them were false, Visenya couldn’t begin to imagine.
Finally, Visenya’s eyes found Tyene’s as the rapid pace of her thoughts grew calm. “Yes.”
Tyene’s answering smile was as sweet and well-practised as Sansa’s as her hand took hold of Visenya’s. “Tougher than I’d imagined. You’re no delicate lady, are you?”
“F— Uncle Stark thought it wise that I train with a bow and blade, and I’ve long held the reigns of many a mount,” Visenya answered, emboldened by Tyene’s remark — she’d never be helpless. Arya was much the same, the two had even gone so far as to practice swordsmanship in the privacy of their chambers.
“Have you ever done both at the same time? Train with a bow and ride atop a horse, I mean — Father says the Dothraki do so,” Tyene’s eyes were filled with wonder, but it was Sarella and Rhaenys that had gone alight with curiosity, the two going so far as to form a tight crescent around Visenya’s diminutive form; it made her feel trapped.
“Only once. I must confess, it’s exceedingly difficult. Moreso than I thought, and so I halted my efforts to focus on the thrill of riding,” Visenya looked past the other girls for a moment, hard as it was to do so, and out at the water behind them. She’d never seen so much of it until she’d met this side of her family… but it wasn’t the forest.
Gods did she long to feel the wind whipping through her hair.
“My ladies, niece, a moment of your time if I may.” The voice was as silk, and not at all like the panicked voice she’d remembered only moments earlier; Viserys had come to see her, it seemed.
It’d only taken him resolving whatever business he’d had with Rhaegar before he did so.
“Uncle,” Rhaenys grip grew tighter still, and her voice was oddly strained. “Visenya, sweet sister, this is our dear Uncle Viserys as I’m sure you’ve realised by now.”
“The rumours of your beauty, scant as they are, fail to do you justice, niece,” Viserys said with a smile — one that wasn’t all that charming — as she stepped forward, her hand taken hold by one of his in an instant as he brought it up for a kiss. “Your greatest Uncle, ready to serve.”
Visenya wasn’t sure Oberyn would think too fondly of that remark. Nuncle Benjen either. She nearly frowned then. Nuncle Benjen… she’d likely never see him again, and if she did, she could only imagine how long it’d be, or the look that’d be on his face; he hated Targaryens just as much as Father did.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Uncle,” Visenya said politely, her voice louder than she’d like it to be on account of the multitude of conversations happening throughout the room.
He grinned at her, kissed her hand again, and bowed as he began to move away. “Very nice indeed, excuse me. I’ve many a thing to see to, but we’ll speak again soon. Very soon.”
And as quickly as he’d come, he left.
“Odd, isn’t he?”
Rhaenys, Visenya and Sarella looked at Tyene, but not one of the three made to disagree with her.
Very odd, Visenya silently agreed.
“Be careful around him.”
Visenya cocked her head at Rhaenys. Those words had come free of the other girl’s mouth almost as soon as the two had closed shut the door to the former’s chambers.
“Who?” Visenya asked. Mayhaps the amount of wine she’d consumed, a good bit of it at the behest of Rhaenys, had muddled her brain, but she’d met more than one man in a true fashion this evening.
“Viserys. Father shan’t allow you to be alone with him, I’ll not either,” Rhaenys began to pace, her eyes maintaining contact with those of Visenya all the while. “He wishes to claim you. I’ve heard whispers. With Daenerys spoken for, private as the matter is, and Father’s plans for me and Aegon, he sees you as a means to an end — Summerhall, when it’s restored, or something more.”
Visenya wrinkled her nose in disgust, a feeling of sickness emanating from her belly; a mixture of wine and contempt, perhaps. “Incest is amongst the worst of sins. Father broke away from it.”
Rhaenys’ pacing stopped when those words came free of Visenya, and then it resumed a scant few seconds later, if even that. Visenya wasn’t sure if she’d been seeing things, but when the words had flowed from her lips like water down a river, she thought she’d seen hurt or annoyance flash across Rhaenys’ face… Visenya had thought Rhaenys might agree with her thoughts. She was forcibly betrothed to their brother, was she not?
If not, was she not as sane as Visenya thought her to be?
Such thoughts amplified the uncertainty she’d long since felt in the presence of the Targaryens and made the yearning for the Starks greater than it’d already been. What was a moon, not even, compared to a lifetime spent with another family?
“Father broke away from it himself, you speak true. Yet, he sought it out again with Aegon and I,” Rhaenys said slowly, and as she stalked toward Visenya. In seconds, the taller girl was stood so close that ‘Senya had to crank her neck to maintain eye contact with her sister, and as she did so, one of Rhaenys’ hands traced a path up Visenya’s hip until it came to rest on her cheek; it was then she spoke again. “Enough of that — promise me you’ll not spend a moment alone with our dear uncle, little sister?”
Visenya nodded, her eyes searching for an answer she wasn’t sure she wished to find in Rhaenys’.
“Say it.”
“I promise.”
Rhaenys’ shoulders sagged upon hearing her do as she was asked, and then she took a step away from Visenya, exhaling. “Forgive me. I… I’d not see him use you. I care for you a great deal even if we’ve not but known one another for a moon. You’re my sister. We might lack a past, but we’ll share a future.”
Visenya’s response was to close the distance and wrap her arms around Rhaenys. The embrace was tight, with the latter’s grasp, especially so, but it was comforting. Visenya knew she was ill-equipped to handle the myriad of problems that arose in the South, but she genuinely believed Rhaenys cared for her.
She just couldn’t be certain if that care went further than was appropriate. After the statement about Viserys and the expression Rhaenys had pulled at her remark thereafter, testing as it’d been — and perhaps aided by the wine she’d consumed so as to be bold enough to say them — the trepidation toward House Targaryen had only grown.
Elia would speak truly if I ask… wouldn’t she?
As Visenya allowed herself to be led to bed, and to the warm embrace of sleep and Rhaenys both, she could only hope the answer to that question was a resounding yes.
Silence. Complete and utter silence. Where one might expect the errant cough or sneeze, there was nought but the flickering of the nearest torch and the beating of her heart for noise. Not even the man of the Kingsguard by her side, ever-vigilant as each was, made a noise that might distract her from the events that’d soon transpire.
The time had, unfortunately, finally come for the formal announcement of her to the realm. Rhaegar and Elia had put it off longer than most likely would have, but even they as King and Queen couldn’t do so indefinitely, and Visenya would be loathe to beg them to do so. Even she recognised that a formal acknowledgement of her personage was necessary.
That didn’t mean she liked it, and even as Rhaegar spoke words in which she minded not to the Lords and Ladies of the realm, she wished for an out that she knew wouldn’t come. In her dream the night prior, the night Oberyn and Viserys had dined with her and the rest of their ‘family’ as they’d claimed her, she’d dreamt of Uncle Eddard and Robb coming to her rescue.
Gallant and manly, the two would force open the doors to the Throne Room, issue a challenge for her, defeat the champion that stood to keep her and take her back whence she belonged.
“Princess.”
Visenya was roused from her recollection when the soft voice of Ser Loras called her forth from it. “Ser?” she asked, her head cocked to the side, and her voice small and girlish; it was a worthy final effort to avoid being paraded before those of the Realm that might do her harm.
“King Rhaegar has given the signal. It’s time, Princess,” and like that, Ser Loras sought out the door without so much as a look over his shoulder to ensure she was joining him. It was expected of her.
True as it might be that she wished to flee, for few wished to be under the scrutiny of hundreds, she knew what she needed to do. Visenya followed after the man, her posture straight and head held high as Elia had said need be done; weakness nor shyness could be portrayed by a member of House Targaryen, even new as she was.
“Princess?”
Visenya cocked her head at the man. “Ser Loras?”
“If it pleases you to know — I’ve heard they already love you.” Loras sent her a small, fond and boyishly cute smile after such words were said; one she thought far sweeter than Aegon’s or any other she’d yet seen.
That moment of warmth his words caused spurred her on, and as the door was opened and the silence grew to hushed, rapid whispers, she stepped out with all the confidence she could muster. Ser Loras was right. She was a Princess, a Targaryen, and all those who lived in the South seemed to love both of those qualities she possessed.
Elia, Rhaenys, even Rhaegar had promised her safety, and should any person so much as threaten that, they’d forfeit their right to live; perhaps an exaggeration… or perhaps not. Either way, it’d helped to set her at ease. Yet, the thought was strange, that being the ‘power’ she could project, but it brought her the same level of comfort as a bed of warm furs on a cold night.
Visenya took step after step, measured, calm, confident, and the picture of elegance — so she hoped — until she came to a halt betwixt Rhaegar and Elia, whereupon doing so each set a hand upon her person. There as she was, her eyes took in the vastness of the crowd. Nearly every face was strange to her, save for a few close to the front; one, in particular, drew a smile from her.
Yoren, Nuncle Benjen’s friend. He was a good man, a kind man, and one that she hoped she could get a message to. Time would tell.
“... is why, to celebrate the return of my daughter, a tournament shall be held. The greatest since our peacetime celebration — the details will be announced by my Lord Hand, Mace Tyrell, as will the reason for delay,” Rhaegar gestured to the man, but Visenya didn’t look. Aside from Yoren, she avoided settling her eyes upon any one person. “The prizes, might I add, will be quite substantial.”
With that, he took a step back, finished.
As if the murmuring hadn’t been loud enough already, the many men assembled sounded off all the more as their King gave them permission to do so. If it wasn’t whispers of Visenya, the talk of gold dragons littered the hall. Men were oft driven by two things, Old Nan had said, greed or lust. From what Visenya was hearing, unintelligible as the vast majority of conversations were, Old Nan was right.
“Father?” she asked only just loud enough for Rhaegar to hear her, the meaning of her request obvious.
“A moment longer,” Rhaegar answered as his arm wrapped around her shoulders. “I would to introduce you to Mace Tyrell, and then, we’ll go and enjoy a meal in the gardens. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
His tone was almost hopeful-sounding as if he feared her declining such an invitation. Rhaegar was King; the thought shouldn’t so much as be in his mind.
“Yes, Father.” A dutiful response. Her eyes found Elia’s next. “Will you join us… Mother?”
Elia’s face went awash with a smile and a second later, if even that, the woman bent down to place a kiss atop Visenya’s head. “You’d need to lock me in the Black Cells to avoid my company, my sweet.”
Visenya smiled at the woman’s words. It meant a lot to her, Elia’s presence. She was Rhaenys-like in many a way, but where Rhaenys might fret or come across exceedingly possessive, Elia had no such qualities. In fact, Visenya might go so far as to say Elia lacked any negative traits.
“Your Grace!” bellowed a man over the still loud and boisterous crowd below.
Rhaegar seemingly had a flash of something untoward go across his face, but it went away just as quickly as it’d appeared. “My Lord Hand,” her father returned. “My daughter, Visenya. I do believe your son Willas managed a glimpse of her.”
Mace swallowed, and then he bowed gracefully — as gracefully as a man of his stature could. “My most sincere apologies, Your Grace. I- my mo—”
“As we said previously, the error’s forgiven, Lord Hand,” Elia said swiftly, her tone as honey, rich and enveloping. “House Tyrell has been a stalwart ally across centuries, and were it not for your family and the timely arrival of your men alongside Lord Frey’s, I fear the Trident was a lost cause. Naturally, it would be you and yours that meet our third child first.”
This is the game they all mentioned, isn’t it?
Mace’s chest grew larger and his posture, straighter. His face, previously growing red with embarrassment, grew red on account of pride or praise instead. “House Tyrell will always stand with the Crown, My Queen, Your Grace,” he said, only the occasional stutter as he looked betwixt her parents… before his eyes fell on her. “Princess Visenya, allow me to be the first of many to welcome you to King’s Landing. Should you need anything, it would be my honour, mine whole houses, to aid you.”
Visenya wanted to shy away from the man, especially when he took a step toward her. He was larger the closer he grew, and taller than her; everybody was. Still, she couldn’t walk away from him, nor could she hide behind Elia’s skirts. As oft she’d done, the necessity to push down what she felt arose and she took a step toward him, her hand offered.
“You have my thanks, Lord Hand,” she said softly, a pretty smile coming easily to her. Well, not too easily, she’d had to practise in the looking glass for most of the morning. “And please, do tell your son that I took no offence to his presence. One can’t help but get lost in such a vast holdfast.”
Mace kissed her hand and let it go in an instant as if her very touch had scalded him. It was a strange divergence from his previous gaze that’d lingered on her, as was the step back that he took. All the same, he responded with a hearty chuckle and jolly smile that reminded her of an old guard back at Winterfell; the man had been kinder than most all others.
“Truer words are seldom spoken, Princess. My son will be glad to hear you’ve not taken offence,” Mace looked over her shoulder, looked her in the eyes, and then, he nodded once, respectfully. “Princess.”
And then he was off after a few more words with the King and Queen. It made her furrow her brows and cock her head as the man made his ‘hasty’ escape. He was a queer sort much like her newest uncle, Viserys, but most she’d met thus far had been of a similar nature. Visenya exhaled a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding before twirling on the balls of her feet to seek out Rhaegar and Elia again.
“Father?” she asked again.
Rhaegar smiled at her, and within the span of five seconds, the trio were out of the Great Hall with the topic of a picnic at hand. Visenya was so very pleased to be away from the myriad of men. Even sans eye contact, their gazes felt… dirty.
“It’s time.”
Visenya wanted to pull the covers over her head at the incessant nature of Daenerys. It had been nary a few hours since the announcement had been made to the realm, and already, dozens of requests had been made for her to join families for meals, walks or even trips to their ancestral homes. Where the latter might spell opportunity, they were long rejected by the time the requests had made their way to her.
Elia, Rhaegar, and just about every member of House Targaryen had ensured the various Lords and Ladies wouldn’t be able to corner her, much less take her away from them. It was odd to think some might even try to ‘steal’ her; in Rhaenys’ words, they were overly ambitious animals little better than the bandits in the Kingswood.
In other words, Rhaenys hadn’t been pleased to hear requests had been made that might very well see Visenya away from King’s Landing for months unending. Daenerys’ own request to take her to Dragonstone had even been denied by Rhaegar, and Viserys had been shut down before he could even make a request of a similar nature.
“Sister~” Daenerys sang as fingers, cold and small, prodded at Visenya after slipping under her silken and so very soft sheets. “Rise lest I have to go and get Rhaenys.”
Visenya sat upright in an instant, her hair covering much of her face. She huffed, folded her arms and whipped about her head so that the errant strands cleared her field of vision.
“I don’t like being tickled.”
And then Visenya pouted, her bottom lip sticking out as she gave her best look of girlish pleading to Daenerys.
“You’re adorable,” Daenerys said with a grin. “It’s almost as if I’m looking into a mirror, and were it not for your accent, I do imagine most of the Realm wouldn’t be able to tell us apart — I’d not change that for the world, you should know. That Northern nature in you makes you all the sweeter.”
Visenya felt heat rushing to her cheeks, so she pouted harder.
“That won’t work on me. I practically created such a look back when I was moons upon moons younger. How else might you suspect I’m as spoiled as I am?” Daenerys giggled, and try as she might to hold in the sound, Visenya joined her.
Daenerys wasn’t at all what she’d expected.
“Must I? Truly?”
“I fear the answer’s a resounding yes. Rhaegar’s very incessant that you meet the Lords of the Small Council, at the very least,” Daenerys slid across the vastness that was Visenya’s bed, the mattress dipping as her ‘twin’ reached her. “Think of it from his point of view, won’t you?”
Visenya took in a deep breath, the breeze and birdsong doing little to calm the anxiousness welling up in her belly. A Targaryen she might be, Visenya forgot herself. She was a Princess, and she knew the fate of Princesses.
“My apologies,” Visenya’s voice was quiet and a moment later, she climbed free of the bed whilst dodging one of Daenerys’ hands. “I’ll need but a few moments to ready myself.”
I’d like to visit the Godswood after, she thought inwardly. I could take Rickon along with me. An actual Northern grove, it is not, but a place of comfort it should prove to be. Yoren. Mayhaps Yoren will visit it. I’d like to let Father… Uncle Eddard, know that I’m alright.
Visenya glanced back at Daenerys, who was oddly — finally — silent, and with a look of contemplation on her face. Wounded contemplation, and to think Visenya had done nought but shrug off her hand. Perhaps Daenerys was as possessive as Rhaenys, only with a personality that made such a nature easier to disguise.
She sighed.
“You’re ready. Well, nearly,” Daenerys’ voice was back to normal, as was her visage, as she came up behind the newly-washed and dressed Visenya. “Sit.”
Visenya did as she was bidden immediately, Daenerys’ tone and the energy around the girl activating Marna’s nature. If a Lord or Lady spoke so authoritatively, she might resist, she was willful like that — Uncle Eddard had said as much. The Targaryens, even now a part of her feared them, a part of her remained keenly aware of what they might do to her at any given moment.
Starks don’t fare well in the South, Uncle Eddard had once said, and as for the rest of the quote, she truly was of his blood, just not in the manner she’d always believed. But that didn’t matter. Sans his name, sans him being her father, she was still a Stark and nothing could change that, not even the new duality of her person.
“Your hair’s so soft.”
“Like yours.”
Daenerys’ flatter-filled smile was visible in the looking glass. “I’d like to be friends. Closer, if you’d let me,” her hands continued to weave intricately in Visenya’s long, silverish hair as the words came free of Daenerys. “Would you like the same? Speak honestly. I’ve lived here long enough to know when pretty words cover falsehoods.”
Visenya wasn’t certain. Daenerys, Rhaenys, and Elia had become her favourites, but even now a level of distrust or unease was prevalent whenever she thought of them. And yet, riddled as her mind might be with Targaryen tales, the bulk of them wicked, a part of her yearned to connect with them.
“What if you hurt me?”
As soon as the words came free of her mouth, she wished to take them back. She sounded as a child might, nay, worse than a child, and yet, there was a certain sincerity and genuineness in her question.
“Me?” Daenerys asked, her intricate weaving slowing to a halt as she slowly, painfully slowly, walked out from behind Visenya and kneeled before her. Their heads were level with one another after such a move, and violet stared into violet. “Or any of us?”
Chapter 8: Showoff
Notes:
Surprise? Maybe? This and 7 were edited and written around the same time, so I figured I'd get this out while I was feeling productive. Chapters 9, 10 and 11 are written, not edited and not anywhere near complete imo; Chapter 12, nonetheless, has begun to see some writing.
Shoutout to Tannerite, Kryn_Womble and Sonicmalibu for all sorts of assistance going forward (take a look back, you might notice a few minor changes thanks to their insight and help!) Thank you all very much for reading!
Feel free to join my Discord for updates and additional information, as I usually prattle on about.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It was a fair question to ask, Daenerys’ and Visenya did so hope the other girl, her sister by choice — not entirely her own either — had already made it clear that she was a good friend to have. Visenya wasn’t blind, she saw the love with which Rhaegar looked at Daenerys. It was the same love, same affection, that he used when looking at Rhaenys and Aegon, and that was of no surprise considering what she’d come to know of the man.
Tales of monstrous deeds fit him not, he seemed too soft a man, too kind. Many would likely have done far worse to the Starks than simply stealing her and Rickon away… she was lucky, as was her family.
“Any of you,” Visenya finally said, her palms feeling clammy as her eyes sought out Daenerys’ with more clarity. Truly, they shared the same violet colour, that and so much more; it truly was looking into a looking glass before one went out to a feast or the like.
Daenerys extended a hand as one would to a wild animal, that being tentative and cautious, and so very gentle. When her hand made contact with Visenya’s before it slowly climbed to her shoulder, she moved closer still, until the two were in a small half-hug. It wasn’t as Elia’s motherly hugs, nor was it like one of Rhaenys’ very tight and squeezing ones. Hugging Daenerys was a thing in and of itself, the softness and gentle quality of the girl had an appeal unparalleled.
It was like hugging her old father, before Rhaegar had taken the position, and her, for himself.
“I’ll never harm you,” One of Daenerys’ hands wrapped around Visenya’s waist whilst the other pet her hair, smoothing out the long locks of the same colour she possessed; even now, Visenya would oft be surprised to see her hair wasn’t the black she’d grown accustomed to. “I said it earlier, you’re as my sister — Targaryens look out for one another. With so few of us alive, our affection and care towards one another is vital.”
I shouldn’t have been so meek, Visenya cursed herself whilst remaining in Daenerys’ arms. She’ll probably think me a child or some soft Southron girl now.
Visenya swallowed. “My apollo—”
“You needn’t apologise, nor do you need to say anything more if you’d not like to,” Daenerys withdrew with a smile on her face, kind as pleasant as the one when first they’d met. “A necklace,” she said abruptly, her eyes zoning in on Visenya’s long, pale neck. “We’ll find you a necklace before we go to see Rhaegar and the small council.”
“Thank you.”
Daenerys grabbed her by the hand and led her over to where all of her jewellery was kept. “You needn’t thank me either. Rhaenys, on the other hand, does so love to hear thanks and praise, and I imagine… no, it’s not my place. She’d be cross if my lips went too loose.”
At that, Visenya couldn’t help but glance at Daenerys in question as to what she’d been about to say. It seemed something of importance, but something she’d be remiss to say. Thus, as one could imagine, it made the Northern maid inquisitive; anything that could be said of Rhaenys or Aegon was a thing of importance.
“Rhaenys loves any word that I speak.”
“I’d imagine that’s quite true when it comes to her,” Daenerys said with a small laugh as she danced deftly behind Visenya, warm hands seeking out the latter’s neck to attach the necklace… and give a small impromptu massage.
One that left Visenya a near-puddle before ever they’d left.
“Done,” Daenerys proclaimed as she stepped back, her hands falling to her side. “As I’ve said before. You’re beautiful, ‘Senya.”
That made Visenya smile as she remembered what had accompanied those words. “Feeling vain?”
“Mayhaps a bit.”
The two Princesses looked at one another, and then they abruptly began to laugh. Daenerys’ form, small and only slightly more filled out than Visenya’s, shook with laughter sans the care of what others might think upon hearing it; truly, there seemed a certain carelessness about her. Rhaenys and Aegon might remind her of Robb and Arya, but Daenerys seemed the embodiment of childhood… yet there was a wisdom, a true love towards those she called family that seemed deeper than most.
“Escort me?”
Daenerys slid her arm through Visenya’s as she twirled on the balls of her feet, a giggle coming from her. There were no words spoken betwixt the two as Daenerys led them in a joyful gallop through the various ornate and decorated walls of Maegor’s Holdfast, only giggles as the two girls tore away from their guard, their intention, the Council’s chamber.
To reach it was a far walk that saw the two girls slow for their guardians upon exiting Maegor’s Holdfast. As Visenya looked around, her eyes alight with wonder upon seeing the various grounds she’d seen but once, but couldn’t help but take in every detail. From the grand, serpentine steps she’d been brought down to the great, red-hued walls that surrounded her. There were a myriad of plants and the like growing around them, and the scent of the water and city were far more prevalent outdoors as she was.
“Up the steps,” Daenerys said with a nod at things, the moment of Visenya’s observation temporarily over as she found herself led to the aforementioned place. “For many, this’ll be the first they’ve seen of the mysterious Princess Visenya. You need but say you’re uncomfortable and I’ll turn us back, my brother be damned.”
She means it, Visenya thought as her hold of Daenerys’ arm tightened.
“Thank you,” Visenya said with a dip of her head as the two reached the top of the steps, emerging from between a barracks building and… the ‘Maidenvault’ as Daenerys had called it. “What was its purpose?” she couldn’t help but ask.
Daenerys winced at the question and increased their pace as they passed it, and a plethora of Gold Cloaks, the city watchmen. “Quite a long time ago, a man of our blood went mad and wished to keep the maidens of our family pure, lest they tempt him or others. The tale’s quite tragic, not one to be spoken of in good and happy times such as these,” and that was it as Daenerys spoke of the building beyond the barracks and others nearby, all the while the pair did their best to avoid the obvious gazes of all those who saw them.
And by the gods, were there ever so many people always watching the two Princesses as they pranced about, their arms locked with one another. There was the sound of the pigsty and the looks from those who worked it, the pristine steeds of the royal family, the kennel and the lovely beasts within it, the armoury — a place Visenya dearly wished to visit — and more.
Each had its own cadre of people milling about, and nearly all would stop to look at them. With every gaze, Visenya increased her pace and gave small little waves to the crowd. She’d not forgotten how kind her Uncle Eddard was to his staff, and she knew it wasn’t their fault how she might feel at this point in time, and so she remained courteous and kind.
Mayhaps one day, she’d need the assistance of some of those smallfolk.
“Here, at last,” Daenerys said with a gesture to the building the pair now stood before. “Herein Rhaegar and his council should be. I wasn’t invited to the meeting, and though I care not what the others might think, this is to be your moment — tell me, sister, do you know of the Small Council? Who they are and the positions they hold?”
I know them not… not entirely.
“I know of Lord Mace Tyrell being the Hand of the King,” Visenya paused, her eyes avoiding Daenerys when next she spoke. “But Lord Stark thought it unnecessary to learn all positions of the Small Council, or many of those who held said positions. He thought my time better spent riding, doing archery or learning how to run a household.”
Daenerys entered with Visenya trailing after her, their arms disconnected so as to fit through the entryway, and then they stopped shortly thereafter in a room before the council chambers itself. “Mace Tyrell is the Hand of the King, and one of whom you need be cautious of — the Master of Coin, Tywin Lannister and the Grand Maester Pycelle are who you need watch as well. The others aren’t quite so bad — Lords Tarly, and Velaryon are especially loyal, as is Lord Celtigar”
Visenya blinked, recalling the various houses. She knew not of any by the name of Pycelle, but Lannisters were known well to her, their deceit and treachery a thing of infamy in the North. Tarly and Velaryon were each vaguely recognisable, the latter more so than the former… it was a Valyrian family as well, one of the few, she believed.
As for the Celtigars, they were as unknown to her as the spider was, even if she knew a smidge of the latter.
“My thanks,” Visenya said after a few seconds spent in silence, her hand holding tighter around that of Daenerys, lest the girl leave before the former thought she was ready. “Is there… that is to say, how might I need act around them? Will Father simply show me off and allow me to leave?”
“I know not. Rhaegar didn’t speak much with me regarding this matter. In truth, I do believe I stole you away from Rhaenys and Aegon—” Daenerys looked around and leaned in upon spotting their two Kingsguard guarding the door, speaking in a hushed tone. “They’ll be displeased, but I’m far better company than them.”
Visenya couldn’t help herself as she giggled, especially on account of the vague element of underlying truth that was present. Rhaenys was a kind woman, ‘tis true, but overbearing, far more so than even the warning could have said. Aegon, on the other hand, was simply queer. It was so impossibly difficult to read his intentions, though she couldn’t imagine a person who smiled so oft at her meant well.
“Can I aid you in any other way?”
Twas a kind question for Daenerys to ask, but one that Visenya couldn’t answer truthfully. Not lest she wished to miss the meeting entirely in favour of learning whatsoever she could of the men in attendance. It was an entirely tempting idea, but one she knew she couldn’t afford to make reality.
“In the evening, if you’d not be bothered. I’d like to learn as much as I can if I’m to live in this… city,” Visenya had nearly wished to call it a myriad of names, none of which were entirely flattering, but she couldn’t bring herself to do so. Her decision wasn’t made out of love for the city or the stench thereof, but she’d not be so crass and rude as to insult a place Daenerys’ family had ruled for years seemingly unending.
“I’ll not lie and say it grows on you. I shan’t think it’ll ever do so,” Daenerys said with a fond shake of her head and echoing laughter as she started toward the exit. “In the evening, then. I’ll see to it in the meantime that no crowds converge. As Elia was so kind to say, we’ll need to beat away the suitors early, lest they overwhelm us.”
And with those words — meant in compliment but vaguely terrifying — Daenerys had gone, the soft fall of her feet echoing along with the plate of her guardian; Ser Barristan, if Visenya’s memory proved correct. As for her own Kingsguard, Ser Loras Tyrell, she knew not what to think of the man or his actions. He was incredibly pro-Targaryen, of that she was certain.
Each and every man of the Kingsguard seemed close with at least one member of the Royal Family. Rhaenys and Ser Jaime seemed a frightful pair, the antithesis to Daenerys and Ser Barristan, aka, Ser Grandfather.
Few are allowed to call him as such… and he counted me amongst them.
It brought a smile to Visenya’s face at the memory. Ser Barristan was a kind and true man, one of few that had honour and renown, and that was deserving of it. Few thought that even now, old and white-of-hair as the man was, they could cut their way past him and his brothers to strike at the Targaryens.
“Princess,” it was Ser Loras’ soft-sounding voice calling to her. “It’d be best to hurry.” He portrayed confidence and charm, but also a greenness — eagerness mayhaps — that all others lacked.
Upon having said those words, the man returned to silent vigilance, his hand on the pommel of his sword and his eyes scanning the hallway, thin and slight and empty as it was.
Visenya swept out from the room and started down the hall, intent on reaching Rhaegar and doing so shortly thereafter… with no small amount of guidance from her steadfast guardian, Ser Tyrell. It took her an amount of time that she imagined was greater than expected, but her innate sense of curiosity and the wonderful visuals the place made for were to blame even if her guardian was the perfect navigator to have.
Still, and eventually as one might suspect, she arrived outside the council chambers whereupon reaching it, one of the many guards knocked upon it. Ser Darry, if memory proved true, for Ser Velaryon would only ever be at Rhaegar’s side whilst others manned his doors, called out her arrival loudly.
The voice of her father followed, and not more than a second after Ser Darry had spoken. It was but one word, but in it, eagerness was evident for all to hear. Visenya wished to baulk so very dearly right then and there, but with an encouraging look from Ser Loras, she took a breath and strode in as the doors before her were opened.
Visenya felt the gazes of many fall upon her as soon as she’d entered the room. There was her father at the head of the table with Ser Velaryon at his side and another man, Ser Gerold, sat on his left; each of the three gave her a varying sign of approval or recognition, and each made for an especially friendly face in a place otherwise filled with strangers.
Strangers of a sort, she imagined, that’d like nothing more than to steal her away. Again. Again again.
“Daughter,” Rhaegar said before she paused and took too long an observatory view of the room, his arms beckoning her forth, to him. “My Lords,” he said when she made to move to him. “Allow for me to formally introduce you all sans Lord Tyrell, to my youngest, Princess Visenya Targaryen. Lord Tyrell, I believe your family’s met her twice over.”
Lord Tyrell puffed out his chest and raised his head, that burly stomach of his bumping the table as he grinned with pride. “Yes, Your Grace — the Princess is so very kind, and might I say that House Tyrell would be more than pleased to have the Princess visit all of the Reach. It’d be an honour, Your Grace, Princess.”
Her eyes caught Rhaegar’s for a moment, and in that moment, she hoped he could see the pleading within them. One new home was enough already, she could seldom handle moving from place to place, least of all with the Southron heat and the manner of their people.
“A visit for another time, I’m afraid,” Rhaegar declined politely, one of his hands finding hers under the table, and a squeeze coming a moment later as he looked around the table again. “Lord Tywin, Master of Coin, Warden of the West, and a good friend,” he said next, indicating a man dressed in gold and red with a stern, appraising expression on his face.
Visenya felt… strange just meeting his eye, but still, she met them boldly. Her blood was of the North and no Southerner could take that away from her; no Southerner, no Wildling, nobody.
“Princess,” Lord Tywin said, his voice deep, but strangely soothing. He gave her a nod of respect, his eyes all the while, remaining with their quality of appraising.
She was introduced to the others in attendance afterwards; the Master of Whisperers, Varys, a man that immediately made her wish she was standing farther away than she already was, the next was the old, weathered Master of Ships and Warden of the Seas, Lucerys Velaryon, a man that looked much like her father, but was taller, gaunter, and battle-scarred, and finally, there was the Master of Laws, Randyll Tarly, a man as stern-seeming as Tywin, but one that’d given her a small, polite small when she’d done the same.
There were others too, but they weren’t able to attend for various reasons; the Captain of the City Watch, the Grand Maester, and Oberyn Martell.
“My Lords,” her father said again once introductions were over and an expectant silence had begun to fall. “Should your family wish for the chance to dine with Visenya as you oft request of Rhaenys or Aegon, you’ll need request it far in advance. As one can imagine, and I’ll say this frequently, Visenya will be remaining here for quite some time, and I shan’t allow otherwise.”
A warning?
As the Lords gathered round the room began to murmur or nod, she wondered why he’d say such words in the first place. She didn’t understand the way of the South. In the North, one would say what they meant and do as they said. It was cut and dry as could be, and as it should be.
She wished that’d be how it was here.
Visenya estimated little time had passed by the time the men were rising from their seats, the meeting concluded for the day. Little had been spoken of in her presence, and much less addressed to her in that same time. It made her wonder for what reason she’d been brought along in the first place if there’d be so little required of her.
“Your Grace, Princess.”
With a near-jolt at the suddenness of the voice, Visenya turned to look at the man who’d called her and Rhaegar’s attention. It was Lord Tywin, and in looking at him, she was reminded of Daenerys’ words of warning. He seemed not a dangerous man, but mayhaps that was the very reason the warning had been given, for it was oft those who could be worst of all. Lord Tywin, as Rhaegar had called him, seemed nought but a stern and true-speaking man… mayhaps a later meeting with Daenerys or more time spent with the others would reveal the truth of the matter.
“Lord Tywin,” Rhaegar greeted as he rose to his feet and stood to his full height. “What might we do for you, my lord?”
The man folded his hands, his eyes staying fixed firmly on Rhaegar. “I would request, formally, to invite House Targaryen to a meal.”
Straight to the point, Visenya thought, her eyes dancing between her father and the Lannister.
“This moon, when first opportunity presents itself, my friend,” Rhaegar answered with a nod. “I’ll have the matter seen to, Lord Tywin.”
Another nod was given by the stoic, aforementioned man and with little else left to say, he withdrew from the room with long, confident steps.
“Visenya.”
She turned to regard her father after hearing him speak her name. There was little reason to speak with his eyes meeting hers, the man simply spoke upon seeing that he had her attention.
“You’re not to dine or meet with those not of our family. I do this for your safety, lest you be taken advantage of — it’d not do if Aegon or Oberyn had to behead one of my Lords for impropriety.”
Visenya blinked at him, his words vaguely registering. Was th—
“I jest,” Rhaegar said as he came over to her, his arm held out in the form of a loop for her to slide hers through. “Join me, my Visenya? I find a stroll around our walls is all the peace and leisure I need after a meeting with my council.”
“As you wish, Father.”
And they walked.
Sometime later, after a walk which took them through the entirety of the Godswood nearly thrice over, Visenya left her father’s side so as to go for a meal. It was with her faithful guard, Ser Loras, and the dozen Targaryen guardsmen following the pair, when she was found by an especially affectionate Rhaenys.
Her older sister, possessive and overbearing as she’d come to recognise, embraced her within seconds of vision being established. “My ‘Senya,” Rhaenys cooed into her ear as she embraced Visenya tightly, her arms all but squeezing the life from the smaller girl… mayhaps not quite that tight, but it was a close thing.
“How did you enjoy your meeting with our wonderful council?” Rhaenys asked when she finally withdrew, her hand grabbing Visenya’s and pulling it along; the latter didn’t so much as ask where they were headed.
“I spoke little and heard less. I think my inclusion was for the sake of father allowing them to meet me more intimately, and to give them a moment to gauge me, but I know not why. Some seemed kind, others seemed stoic… are they all loyal?”
Rhaenys’ response was a snort and fit of giggles.
That was all the answer Visenya needed, and it was one that seemed in-line with the limited information Daenerys had given her. And yet, it begged the question of why they’d be in position in the first place. What reason might there be to keep those with power around, grant unto them more power, and give them a seat at your table?
“We’ll speak of politics in the coming days, sooner than I’d like, I believe,” Rhaenys said placatingly, mayhaps noticing the look that’d come to rest on Visenya’s face. “I’ll seldom enjoy games of words, ‘tis Aegon that loves a verbal duel as much as one by way of the sword. Still, in the coming moons I dare say it’ll be quite important for you and I both.”
Ominous.
“Father said I’m not to dine or spend time sans the company of another member of House Targaryen.”
“Our house.”
“What?”
Rhaenys turned to look more clearly at Visenya, her face seemed serious, more so than usual, and then she arched a brow, speaking all the while they continued their walk to… wherever they were headed. “You said House Targaryen. You needn’t do so. We’re family, it’s our house, the Red Keep, Summerhall, Dragonstone—” Rhaenys gestured around the entirety of where they were with her other arm, a smile, albeit a smug one, on her face. “Westeros — all of it is ours.”
Visenya nodded and graced Rhaenys with a smile of her own. It was placating, or at least it was meant to be, but she couldn’t help the feeling of power and control that came upon hearing Rhaenys’ words. It mattered not that she knew such dreams to be just that, dreams, for the thought of having control over her life, finally, was so fond a thought it could turn anything pleasant.
Mayhaps, there would come a time in the future where she’d be in total control of her life.
“Gods.”
Rhaenys’ blurting out of that made Visenya shake free of her thoughts. Had she made the older girl angry when she’d not responded?
No, no she hadn’t. Visenya recognised a few seconds later that Rhaenys’ exclamation hadn’t come as a result of anything she did or didn’t do, but on account of the man whom was rapidly approaching them.
Mace Tyrell, their father’s Hand and a pompous man; one with a large belly that Visenya couldn’t help but watch with an inward grin as it bounced whensoever he took a step. He seemed a genuine and kind man, a dull one too… but Visenya wondered if there was more to him like how there’d been more to many others.
It was a hard life, being surrounded by Southron folk who acted so very differently to her Northern kin.
With a pause, the two Princesses waited for the Lord Hand and his entourage of guardsmen to arrive. His cheeks were red from the sun or exertion of walking, and in his right hand was a large, sealed missive, one that was likely meant for any Targaryen on account of how he held it for either girl to take.
“Thank you, my lord,” Rhaenys said as a deft hand struck, taking the sealed missive from him. “I’ll see to it that a hasty response is given. Will that be all?”
Mace blinked at Rhaenys’ question, and then he nodded rapidly. “Yes, Princess,” he said, his tone as animated as his nods.
Rhaenys smiled and gave the rotund man a curtsy, and from there, she pulled upon Visenya’s hand and started them off again. Visenya did but nod to the man as they took their leave of him, the Kingsguard of Ser Jaime and Ser Loras and the near twenty men-at-arms that followed blocked the large man quite quickly too.
“Rhaenys?” Visenya asked then, the thought coming to her.
“Senya?” Rhaenys counter-asked.
“Why are we so heavily guarded? Is there reason to fear?”
A laugh. Rhaenys laughed as she pulled Visenya into her side, disregarding their hand-holding so as to wrap an entire arm around the smaller girl. “Not in the slightest, baby sister. We’ll never be in danger with so many loyal men around — Father’s simply being cautious. He wishes not to risk your safety or innocence, least of all with so many vultures plucking at the edges of our family.”
“The La—”
Rhaenys slid a hand over Visenya’s mouth and tutted. “Now now, baby sister, one shan’t say anything out loud,” there was a teasing lilt to Rhaenys’ voice, but her visage seemed serious for the few seconds she’d said those words; when the next came, it went back to a fond, loving sort of gaze. “Food?”
Visenya furrowed her brow at Rhaenys, but nodded, slowly. Food sounded good, and the myriad of sweets the Southron folk had were… superior in quantity and offered a different taste to that of what she was used to having.
She’d never say it was better altogether.
The following forenoon when next Visenya rose, the typical sounds of the early hours and the cool breeze greeting her, it was to yet again, another series of knocks upon her door. One could seldom sleep very late without being given reason to rise by one Targaryen or another, Visenya only wondered who this one would be.
She needn’t wait long to hear the voices of those who wished her to rise.
“Visenya, might we enter?”
“Please, baby sister?”
Daenerys and Rhaenys had arrived together, it’d seem, and Visenya knew she couldn’t keep them waiting. With a huff and puff, she blew away the errant strands of hair that blocked her vision and threw aside the wondrously soft sheets of her bed, the cold airing streaking toward her; it was what she hated most about rising, even if the cold was far more preferable to heat of any kind.
After a few seconds of exaggerated chills, she kicked her feet from the bed and all but flew off of it, coming to a standing position. One might say her dexterity was unparalleled, and in Visenya’s opinion, it was — Gods, how she longed to climb with Bran or ride through the woods with Robb, mayhaps even go for archery with Arya. Each had made so many fond memories with her, and each left her longing for her family.
Finally, the dexterous girl found her way to the entrance of her chambers, whereupon opening it, the impatient forms of Rhaenys and Daenerys hurried through.
“Good morning, ‘Senya,” Rhaenys greeted first, her arms enveloping Visenya’s slighter form in a firm hug.
When she withdrew, another hug followed shortly thereafter. Daenerys’ was, as she’d thought, much more gentle; it helped the girl was softer, without the underlying muscles Rhaenys seemed to have. Where once Visenya had thought the Princess pompous and spoiled, she now thought her older sister like a Mormont woman… only decidedly more pretty.
“Good morning—” Daenerys leaned in and risked a glance over her shoulder at Rhaenys, who was already sweeping towards Visenya’s dresser, “— sister.”
The two shared a small giggle before they withdrew from one another, their arms looping almost naturally as they moved together to Rhaenys.
“What must we do today?” Visenya asked as she looked betwixt the other girls, nearly expectant. Always, there seemed something to do. It wasn’t at all like her life before the Targaryens had taken her. In the North, she had time and time alone, with few activities of interest in-between sans books, riding or archery. “Is it the tourney?”
It’d be so lov— interesting, Visenya wanted to huff at herself. Southron tourneys are for pompous Lordlings. Lord Umber had always said as much and Fa..Uncle Ned oft agreed. He hated them.
“Not yet,” Daenerys said with a light laugh as she turned to look at Visenya. Her expression was one of mirth and happiness as she looked betwixt Visenya and Rhaenys. “It takes much time for such things to happen. I think within a sennight until its arrival, for the menfolk must gather and time must be given for them to do so — in truth, annoyed as some might have been, Rhaegar was wise to push back its start.”
Rhaenys threw a few dressed atop Visenya’s bed and promptly returned to the latter girl. Upon doing so, she pressed a kiss to either cheek before finally putting one on the tip of her nose.
“You’re lovely looking today,” Rhaenys said with a wide smile. “If you’d not mind, baby sister, I thought tonight might be one in which we can sleep together? I’ve not wished to smother you, but I’ve found in the time of your absence, sleep comes harder to me. Mayhaps my mind requires the knowledge that you’re truly here before it’s able to be put to rest.”
Visenya wished for the world to swallow her up right then and there, such were the feelings of awkwardness she felt upon hearing Rhaenys’ words. One could say they were sweet and meaningful, and Visenya might even agree; the queerness therein still didn’t dissipate. Rhaenys was of a sort Visenya couldn’t comprehend — she was so open and Visenya wasn’t so.
“Discuss that later, we must leave her to dress, and quickly, if we wish to watch Aegon spar.”
Daenerys’ interjection couldn’t have come at a more helpful time.
Rhaenys huffed and pouted, looking betwixt Daenerys and Visenya, and then she moved away, to one of the adjoining rooms. Daenerys followed after her, closing tightly the door to the room which Visenya would change in.
Visenya, speaking of, was left with a look of thoughtfulness on her face. She wasn’t sure what to make of Rhaenys’ overbearing affection and need to sleep beside her. There was a chance the words in which she spoke were true, mayhaps the Princess was truly so spoiled or already so covetous over Visenya’s person… it’d be in line with what she’d been taught, but in that same breath, the Targaryens thus far hadn’t been nearly as bad as she’d expected.
Daenerys especially, lest her words be a game and I the fool for entertaining her.
Visenya shook her head, shaking to and from her long, flowing Targaryen hair. It smelt of the flowers and soap she’d bathed with, and her skin was still smooth and glistening from the oils they’d used in her bath the past night. Those scents smelt much like the gardens of the Red Keep when she’d gotten the chance to pass them by on her way to ‘meet’ the Small Council.
Out of the memory alone, she wrinkled her nose. The stink of the city still lingered in her nostrils with nought but her window open alone; it was far worse outside, when one walked sans the cover of walls… by the Gods, did it stink. It cou—
“Visenya?” Daenerys’ voice called from whence she and Rhaenys had earlier gone. “Need you assistance, my lovely niece?”
“No,” Visenya said, quickly, but quietly. She cleared her throat and spoke a moment later, more forcefulness in her tone, her voice projecting through the door clearly and powerfully. “I’ll be fine in a moment, and afterwards, I’ll need a bit of aid with jewellery and other baubles.”
“Speak when you wish for us to enter, and dress in your own time,” Daenerys’ response came, and thenceforth, silence as Visenya moved to the bed.
She looked at the myriad of dresses Rhaenys had picked and put before her. Not one was as, daring, perhaps, as the ones she or most other ladies oft wore; Visenya was glad, she’d asked for such a distinction to be made when it came to what she wore. No dress that was so light and sheer would ever be comfortable, much less appropriate to wear outside the confines of one’s chambers.
Visenya pushed aside with a hand, dainty and swift, three of the five dresses that’d been picked. They were the three that showed the most skin, even if it’d still be much less than most others, and as such, it was they that needed discarding from her wardrobe. From there, she looked between the final two.
One was a long and flowing and frilly red gown without much lace and with black fur trim. It seemed especially cosy in comparison to all of the others, but she knew it’d be too hot to wear under the heat of the Southron sun. The other, the one in which she’d wear, was red and black as well, only sans fur and with lace at her back.
It’d prove the much more comfortable choice even if her back might be seen. Thus, she dressed in short order and called back her sister and aunt, and in they came, the former bounding ahead of the latter.
“Pay up, niece,” Daenerys said as she strolled in, her hair whipping on account of an especially powerful gust of wind.
Rhaenys huffed and tossed to Daenerys a chain of metal. It wasn’t the gold dragon which Visenya might have thought it to be upon hearing of a ‘wager’, instead, it was something else. Something that one might see woven into the chain a Maester wore.
“I thought you’d choose the one with furs,” Rhaenys explained upon seeing Visenya’s look and misinterpreting just what it meant. “In a colder time, mayhaps, though in truth it matters, not. Another could always be made to your specifications — come, turn around, little sister. Daenerys and I will see to your hair and ornaments.”
“I do believe a pair of earrings I’ve brought with me would fit Visenya just as they fit me.”
“Those?” Rhaenys’ voice sounded strange, surprised, perhaps.
“Why not?” Daenerys asked with a shrug as she approached Visenya, moving aside her hair and holding up to one ear an earring, one with a blackened chain and with a purple gem inlaid. There was writing on it too, small and beautiful-looking, but the language Visenya knew not. “It looks as one would expect on our ‘Senya.”
Rhaenys’ visage remained one of shock, though she nodded upon Daenerys’ words being spoken aloud. It took her seconds to recover, and when she did, her hands gathered up Visenya’s hair and grabbed hold of a necklace; Daenerys moved to adorn Visenya with the earrings in question.
It was during their actions when Visenya spoke again, asking the question that did so bug her — one of many — but one she thought safe to put words to. “What are they?”
“They belonged to my mother. Many and more did she own, but this was the pair which she loved most and wore from her youth to her last days married to father,” Daenerys stepped back and looked in the looking glass, her gaze appraising, wistful, and joyous altogether. “As I thought. You make for a beauty that needs to be put to portrait.”
Those words made Visenya smile and look away as a flush came to her cheeks. Through all of her time with the Starks, she’d never felt quite so… pretty? Mayhaps the word didn’t fit, but which would? Here, she was laden with praise and stared at by all, and whilst strange and how it made her stomach turn, there was a portion of her that did so love how it made her feel.
Was it wrong of her? She feared it might be. One should never strive to be at the centre of a crowd, one should be meek and humble, demure and polite, and when necessary, strong and just.
“Oh! Dany, you remind me of what Mother said — ‘Senya, you, I and Aegon will be expected to dress our finest come a sennight or thereabouts. We’re to be put to portrait so that Mother and Father might have an eternal memory of our likenesses in the midst of our youth.”
Dany pouted, exaggerated and adorable. “Was I not offered a spot in this portrait?”
“In another,” Rhaenys said seriously as she stepped back to admire Visenya in the place beside Daenerys, an arm wrapping around the smaller girl as the pair stared at ‘Senya. “Mother and Father wish for many and more. Uncle Viserys will be in one… if he’ll be present when requested.”
Visenya’s cheeks coloured. Not out of any fondness for her uncle — she wasn’t a monster — but on account of the tales told of him. Many thought him kind, energetic and charismatic, but from what she’d heard, he was fond of ladies, married or not, and was gluttonous to boot. Were it not for his age, Rhaenys had said, their uncle would be a very rotund man. Mayhaps like Mace Tyrell.
“... him since his arrival.”
Rhaenys rolled her eyes, Visenya caught the motion in the looking glass. “I thought he’d vanish the very first night. ‘Tis no surprise that our dearest uncle has gone astray.”
“I should thank the Gods later, and we should get going,” Daenerys ushered the newly-dressed and adorned Visenya, as well as Rhaenys, from the Visenya’s chambers. Those small, dainty hands of hers pushed and prodded until the two other Princesses were outside the entryway, their three Kingsguard and dozen men-at-arms waiting for them; inside of Maegor’s Holdfast, each Princess had but five guardians.
Outside, a dozen plus their Kingsguard. Rhaegar was paranoid, or mayhaps it was for her, in the event that she tried to escape. The thought was sobering as she looked from one man to the next. Ser Grandfather, Ser Jaime, and Ser Loras, all were men of legends in their respective generations, or so was said in the South.
“Would it have started by now, Ser Barristan?” Daenerys’ voice, prettier and softer-sounding, asked the oldest Kingsguard present.
He nodded once, a small, fond smile on his face as he looked betwixt the three girls. “I believe so, Princess.”
Daenerys huffed, and promptly slipped an arm through one of Rhaenys’ and one of Visenya’s, and thenceforth she pulled the pair. They moved with haste, and it was mere minutes later when the trio found themselves standing on the second story, watching as the men below sparred in the yard.
It was of no surprise that upon their arrival, a new fight would soon start; the combatants made her smile to herself and lower her gaze to the floor.
Aegon had walked out, his sparring armour the most ornate set she’d ever seen in her life and his winged helmet, black and menacing, so very wondrous to gaze upon. She had heard tell of the sight Rhaegar had made for upon the Trident, when he’d slain the good Robert Baratheon, her Uncle’s greatest friend — Rhaegar had been dressed in a ruby-laden set of plate that looked so very like that which Aegon currently wore.
That wasn’t all the reason therein for her reaction, however. What added to it was the man which he’d chosen to spar with. Garlan Tyrell. He was adorned in a suit of armour that looked no less ornate, but far prettier than Visenya found suitable for a man. It was flowers and vines that twisted and twirled through one another.
“Aegon’s going to try and show off for you, I see.”
Daenerys answered Rhaenys’ words before Visenya had so much as opened her mouth. “Garlan’s no ordinary swordsman, and not one that Aegon need antagonise in a show of his own gallantry.”
Rhaenys shrugged. “If Aegon loses the spar, he grows from it as Father said he did, and as Aegon does every day whensoever he spars with Ser Jaime, Ser Barristan or any of the other Kingsguard,” from there, Rhaenys’ voice sounded smug. “Do you forget, Aunt, that Father’s had Aegon and I trained since we were old enough to hold the sword or spear? Ser Loras lost his last bout against our brother, lest you forget.”
Visenya turned her head as soon as the final few words had come free of Rhaenys’ mouth. She badly wished to see Daenerys’ reaction… and
Her wrinkled nose was all that she’d hoped for and more. “Gods, no. I’ve not forgotten, I’ve considered myself lucky day after day that I needn’t do so,” Daenerys’ gaze fell on Visenya then, a smile forming as her nose unwrinkled itself. “I do believe we’ve another warrior in our midst as well, Rhaenys. Mayhaps our ‘Senya could give you a good run.”
“Do you think so, little sister?” Rhaenys’ hand turned and raised Visenya’s head so that they might look at one another. “I suppose there’s a chance you’re far faster than I, but I worry about the severity of your blows.”
At that moment, a buried portion of Marna appeared. Visenya knew she needn’t antagonise, she shouldn’t so much as challenge the Targaryens in any capacity, but she found in that moment that she needed to. How couldn’t she when Rhaenys had all but challenged her right then and there?
“I’ll join you in the field any day that you’d like.”
Rhaenys blinked at Visenya, her head cocking to the side, but Daenerys shattered any follow-up conversation when she laughed; melodious and beautiful. “A sight to see on another day. Look—” Daenerys made a sweeping gesture down below, “—Aegon and Garlan make to fight shortly. I believe each is currently looking up at us this very moment.”
As if just realising what Daenerys’ words meant, Visenya and Rhaenys’ heads snapped down and to the field below. It was exactly as their aunt had said, there were a myriad of men gathered round with instructions being given all the while, but each of the two men, Aegon and Garlan, paid no mind to their companions. Each was looking up at the three Princesses, the former with a wide, confident smile and the latter with a visage of calm, respectful appraising; a shock to her.
Worried as Visenya might be about Aegon’s attention on account of Targaryen history, she feared him not. There was little reason to think he’d do anything untoward to her, and more to think that if he tried, it would be his own family that stops him… unless she’d been tricked most devilishly.
“Showing off for our little sister,” Rhaenys said, breaking the silence the three had let fall upon their looking to the field below; her voice seemed amused. “I fear it’ll take more to impress you, ‘Senya, than our Aegon plucking a flower from the garden for show. Would that be right of me to think?”
“As if you need even ask…” Daenerys muttered on Visenya’s other side, low enough so that Rhaenys’ ears didn’t pick up the words spoken aloud.
Visenya seemed indecisive when she shrugged in response. “It’d not be a bad start to thrash about the brother of the one who tried to peek on us.”
“True, little sister,” Rhaenys cracked a small smile and leaned in closer, an arm pulling Visenya — and Daenerys too — closer to her. “Let us watch and see if our dearest brother beats Ser Garlan the ‘Gallant’ or if his training with Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime especially has taught him nothing.”
“I’d say it’s taught him much and more. Your brother was said to be amongst the most skilled swordsmen, and unparalleled by those his age. Ser Garlan’s barely his senior.”
Daenerys’ words made Visenya quirk a brow. Ser Garlan looked much older than Aegon, his facial hair and visage especially, and his size seemed like that of a man truly grown; Aegon had a chance yet to grow thicker of muscle and taller, but she’d not be able to say he was small by any means.
“When was Ser Garlan born? I thought him old?”
Rhaenys laughed. “We know not his nameday until we need be told of it. Only those we like, do we remember. ‘Tis something that can be said of most, I suspect.”
“Please,” Daenerys said, shaking her hair and intertwining it with Visenya’s matching strands. “Ser Garlan was born in two-seventy-seven, and he’s currently betrothed, though the name of the lady, I know not. He’s Aegon’s senior by four namedays, but so small an amount of time won’t do much when compared to Aegon’s superior trainers.”
“Mostly superior,” Rhaenys said, sticking her tongue out and catching ‘Senya’s eyes with a smirk. “Nuncle Oberyn is the greatest man alive when it comes to the way of the spear. He’s gifted with other weapons as well, of course, even the whip which he taught Nymeria, exotic as it is. He’d teach you whatever you’d like too, you know.”
“It’s starting.”
At Daenerys’ suddenly spoken words, both Visenya and Rhaenys each turned their attention back to the men… again. It was so easy to be distracted when a fight had yet to start and the men were nought but speaking and laughing with one another; more oft than not, from what Robb had said, it’s then that they speak of women and the exploits that arose betwixt them.
Visenya watched, her gaze lingering on Aegon more than Ser Garlan, as the two men adorned themselves in their stylish helmets and ascertained the grips of their swords. Each was rolling their shoulders, twisting their neck and generally warming themselves up, mayhaps readying themselves for the fight as Ser Darry counted them down.
“Begin!” Ser Darry’s voice, commanding and loud, echoed through the courtyard and a hush fell upon the spectators, Visenya and her companions as well.
Aegon and Ser Garlan moved in a circle, each eyeing the other up in a cautious sort of fashion. Robb and Theon had been similar when they’d spar, one searching for a sign to strike and the other waiting to counter… but that wasn’t to happen here, it’d seem. Almost at once, in the span of time it took for one to blink but an eye, the two men struck forward at one another.
Visenya’s first thought as they did so, their swords meeting one another in a clash of steel, was how swift they moved. She thought herself especially fast, but each of the men before her could keep him from what she’d seen in that first strike — mayhaps she was mistaken, but in truth, she didn’t think she’d manage against either. The thought was worrying and made her squirm as the clashing of steel sounded time and time again.
The two men were exchanging furious blows and counter-strikes, the strength of their blows evident by the sound and their swiftness by vision alone. Visenya leaned forward, her hands separating from Rhaenys’ and Daenerys’ as they clutched the edge of the balcony before her. It was a wondrous spectacle for certain, and perhaps made for the greatest showing of the South she’d seen thus far; fanciful rooms and the decor therein were pretty to be certain, but a clash of steel and the way each man moved as they struck at one another was another thing entirely.
Rhaenys said something, but Visenya heard it not. Too enthralling was the show before her, the way the swords of the men clashed or whooshed through the air, their footwork, the dodges and slides, there was even a grapple that failed to end the duel. It was abundantly clear that Aegon and Garlan each were swordsmen most would fail to strike.
On and on the seconds ticked by which Visenya watched the men. Ten seconds and twenty, and as it continued to go by, the men barely slowing in the ferocity of their strikes, it was only time for a mistake to be made… and so one came. Garlan misstepped, his foot landing at an awkward angle and sticking still for a moment’s time as Aegon struck forth, his blow connecting and Ser Garlan’s foot twisting, and down the larger man went, a mess of steel and man and dirt.
Aegon stopped, his sword pointed down at the fallen knight, and she could picture his smile, cheek-filled and glad, as the men exchanged garbled words. Seconds later, Aegon threw down his sword and extended out a hand, one which was shortly thereafter taken hold of by the knight as the younger man helped the older to his feet.
There was an exchange of words, a bow from each, and then Aegon went running off… directly to the stairs that’d lead him up to the Princesses that’d watched him fight. Undoubtedly, he wished to hear praise for his fighting as most men oft did, and for the bout she witnessed there and then, she’d give it to him.
As he continued his racing up to the Princesses, Visenya eyed Rhaenys from out of the corner of her vision. If Aegon was trained so well and Rhaenys oft teased him, and with her mentions of Oberyn — a man Visenya had come to learn could be called the epitome of danger — as her private master-at-arms, she wondered if she could so much as beat her elder sister.
The odds weren’t especially in her favour, by her understanding. Though, she supposed that was only if Rhaenys ever truly wished to spar… Rhaegar probably wouldn’t allow it. Nor Elia, Visenya believed.
Finally, the echoing steps of Aegon finished as the man finished his ascension and came to a stop before the two Princesses. His hair was sweaty and stuck to his skin in many a place, and his face was sheening, as was just about any other bit of skin that was still showing. Aegon had exerted himself to his limits, it’d seem, and the bout she’d watched on account of his doing so would most certainly be a memorable one.
“Sisters, my lovely aunt,” Aegon dipped his head to the three and drew closer still to them. “I take it you saw my victory in the yard.”
“We did,” Rhaenys said.
“Was it a statement, nephew?” Daenerys asked, amusement thickly heard in her tone. “Rhaenys and I believe it so.”
I do as well, Visenya said internally, though she didn’t feel the need to put that to words spoken aloud.
“Mayhaps, mayhaps it's the simple fact that the weeds need to be occasionally plucked as a reminder. Regardless, I do so hope you enjoyed the entertainment I made for you, I believe I’m quite finished for the day. I’d hoped to have the three of you join me in the gardens for a meal with our cousins.”
“Not with I,” Daenerys said as soon as Aegon gave time for the Princesses to speak. She shook her head and made to separate, Ser Barristan following after her as a shadow would. “I’ve a meeting with Rhaegar and Elia. I’ll leave the care of my lovely nieces to you, nephew.”
Rhaenys was oddly silent, not taking the chance to tease Aegon where one might otherwise have presented itself… as for Visenya, it wasn’t bothersome, and beyond that, a fact she thought at least partially true. Aegon and Rhaenys each had been very caring; after witnessing his fighting prowess as well, her safety was all the more guaranteed.
Well, so long as he wasn’t craven when it came time for a real bout.
“Give my best to Mother and Father, my most beautiful of aunts,” Aegon’s visage was that of teasing as he bowed to Daenerys, low and gentlemanly, but mischievous all the while. “And I’ll do as you say, of course. You needn’t worry about ‘Senya or Rhaenys whilst I’m with them. My sisters are mine to protect, and any who wish to find that out will nary have the chance to plead for mercy.”
“Please,” Rhaenys said with a scoff, but whereupon she went from there wasn’t the way Visenya had thought it’d be. “Tyene is who we’ll need watch most of all. Obara and Nymeria aren’t as unique in their weapons of choice, and Sarella is but a scholar.”
“But a scholar,” Daenerys repeated. The clone of Visenya repeated the words again, snorting once, and then she kissed Rhaenys’ cheek. She moved to Visenya next, doing the same twice over, and whispering when she leaned in for a famous embrace. “Visit me this eve? I wish to brush your hair?”
Visenya, naturally, smiled after a second’s thought; time with Daenerys would do her well.
As would, she supposed, time with the Sand Snakes and Martells.
In a way, they were ‘as family’ to her now, and such a thought was queer given the circumstances… mayhaps queerer still; she’d begun to think of them as kin in the time that she’d been here. It was quick, and left her as conflicted and wistful of her past as ever.
She needed the Godswood, she did. Visenya would seek it out when next she was alone, for the company of any other Targaryen would feel slanderous, worse, an affront to all Northerners who fell to defeat them. Had the battle ended at the Trident, mayhaps the feelings of the North and South toward one another would be different.
Visenya’s mind finished its errant and fast thinking when she felt the nudge of an arm, large and meaty, against one of her own far more petite ones. Aegon had slipped betwixt her and Rhaenys, taking the spot in the middle as he held his arms open for each of the Princesses to join themselves to him; it took but one look at his face to see a grin of enormous proportions on it, his eagerness and joy so abundantly clear.
And then they started off, their destination, the gardens.
Notes:
I've been asked once or twice about Visenya's feelings or smut, and so what I'll say is;
1) Those take time to change as many people have pointed out.
2) Idk. Eventually? I won't spoil with whom first.
3) Thank you; Valyrian might make an appearance henceforth on occasion. You can google it yourself if you'd like to know what's said, or you can stay with Visenya, and be oblivious until she learns.
Chapter 9: Feelings
Notes:
Here we are, Chapter 9!
I hope to respond to some of those comments here later, and thank you all very much for the lot of them; they make this all the more enjoyable to write.
As for story news, Chapters 10 through 15 are written and going through editing. The total words around around 50-55k~. Chapter 16 is actively being written atm, and stands at around 1k~ words.
Thank you very much for reading, and please enjoy!
(Chapter 10 coming soon)
Chapter Text
Visenya’s eyes scanned through the fields of flowers and other flora alike, which had more oft than not a person milling about whichever way she looked. It was unlike the Godswood on account of the far too many people present, the differing plants, the lack of a Weirwood, and the water’s scent.
There even seemed a much livelier set of pests as well, from the mean, yellow-coloured bees that loved to sting to the sweeter, honey-making ones and the birds that swept down to eat them. A much more prevalent breeze was felt too, given the lower-walls and many spaces one might sit to look thereat — that breeze brought with it the very same scent of the water and stench of the city she had grown accustomed to, yet, in the gardens, it was almost pleasant.
Flowers could only do so much to cover the Southron filth that littered the streets and polluted the tributary body of waters near to King’s Landing.
She wrinkled her nose as Aegon and Rhaenys spoke to one another, their voices a… pleasant backdrop as she continued to take in much and more, the bulk of which was unpleasant.
Like the stares of any who saw her, or the way their eyes drank in her figure before they narrowed at Aegon who had her in-hand. It seemed a great many menfolk held him in contempt on account of his current position betwixt Rhaenys and herself. The realisation of what they likely assumed made a dusting of red come to her cheeks, and despite how foolish it was, especially with so many eyes upon them, she tried to shift away from her brother and sister.
It wouldn’t do if such rumours freely spread amongst the nobles present.
Yet Aegon didn’t allow her to pull away. His arm remained looped around her own, and he cast a look down at her, his usually charming smile replaced with a queer gaze. One that very clearly demonstrated a lack of understanding. “Senya?”
It was a simple enough query; he wished to know why she made to move away.
Rhaenys did too, given by the way she peeked out around their brother’s front to gaze upon her little sister. Those eyes of hers, like always, seemed downright mystified even still, after the near moon that it’d been.
Mayhaps she’d never grow accustomed to Visenya’s presence until she was a woman, grown and wed…
Aegon’s hand waving before her eyes drew her attention back from idle thoughts, and to his face; it seemed closer now, and the buzz of insects as well as the stares from those around them were forgotten as she gazed at him.
“My apologies, brother, sister,” She gave a dip of her head in deference, her violet eyes breaking away from either sibling on account of too intense a stare.
There was too much therein, be it Rhaenys or Aegon, for her to wish to unravel.
“For what?” Aegon asked with a laugh, his hold tightening and pulling her closer; more so than a brother and sister should be.
Rhaenys’ tutting came before an answer could be formulated by Visenya. “Our Senya does so enjoy apologising, even when she needn’t do so. Isn’t that right, Sister?”
Her cheeks grew warmer under the watchful eyes of both, and thankfully, Aegon saw them turn to the left, far and away from where the bulk of foot-traffic seemed to be. The many tall flowers, trees and neatly-trimmed hedges served to aid them in avoiding that same attention.
“I— There’s no true way to answer your question.” If Visenya apologised again, she would look a fool… but so too would she look a fool if she admitted she’d heard Rhaenys’ words about not apologising, and yet, still did as she did.
The Targaryens seemed so very different from how she thought they’d be, and whilst a poisonous part said it was all a ploy, another part thought them genuinely kind. If that were true, mayhaps she needn’t worry about being as demure, submissive and agreeable as she’d been thus far.
Surely by now, the Starks were safe enough. She could be more like Marna. More like herself. The Gods wouldn’t force her to hide her true self for years upon years — the Old Gods weren’t so cruel.
“Our sister's too cute, wouldn’t you say, Aegon?” Rhaenys wore a teasing smirk, and she extended a hand to prod her flank around Aegon’s back. As Visenya squirmed, unable to get away on account of Aegon’s arm keeping her close, an opening in the hedges made itself visible; there was a wooden, vine-wrapped archway with flowers that bloomed all across it.
The place seemed more private than most any other in the gardens, and birdsong as well as the floral scents that enshrouded them seemed especially prevalent.
“I would.” Aegon’s voice was gruffer than normal, and his hold seemed to tighten. He cleared his throat, and as he did so, Visenya noticed Rhaenys and him share a quick look — the scantest of glances, yet still, he cleared his throat and seemed to loosen that very same hold. His next words were then said in that normal, charming and smooth sounding voice he most oft had about him. “It would appear we’ve reached the spot we’ll take our meal, sweet sister. It has the greatest view in all of the gardens.”
“One which she makes all the better.” Rhaenys took her arm from Aegon, and swept away from him, gesturing to the cloth-covered table that lay betwixt two large beds of multi-coloured flowers. “I wish we’d had this set to portrait. She appears as the Goddess of Lys.”
Aegon coughed, the sound abrupt and pointed.
As he did so, Rhaenys moved to the seat on the left of the table whilst he led Visenya to the middle space. “Here, sister—” He pulled out the pillow-covered chair, and then looked over his shoulder, speaking as he did so; but not to her. “—Ser Jaime, Ser Loras, Ser Jonothor, see the men set to patrol, you three more than suffice as watchmen.”
“As you command, Prince Aegon.” Ser Jonothor was the sole Kingsguard to respond as Ser Loras and Ser Jaime fell away, immediately taking up posts by the sole opening with nary a word spoken. As for the aforementioned Ser Jonothor, he stood but a couple of paces back, near enough to respond to any threat that should appear, but far enough away to give them a sense of ‘privacy’ if any such thing existed in the South.
“Go on, Visenya, our brother doesn’t bite,” Rhaenys urged her forth, her head resting atop a hand as she looked on with a grin. There was something inherently devi—
“Rhaenys is the bit—” Aegon stopped sans warning then, a noise from the table which they were sitting at sounding off suddenly and loudly, so much so that it made Visenya nearly leap out of her skin. There was a quick look he and Rhaenys shared, one in which her eyes were narrowed and dangerous, and most certainly filled with meaning… whilst Aegon wore a look of sheepishness. “I jest, but surely you know as much — tell me, sister. I hear tell you’ve experience with a bow and… blade. Would you fancy a spar in the yard?”
He’d very suddenly changed course from a ‘jest’ she’d most certainly taken note of, to a question of her abilities. Mayhaps he thought to gauge her, to see if she were as her namesake, or more so like Rhaenys’.
Visenya, instilled with a rare confidence, stood taller. Her gaze was set on Aegon, and she kept her eyes level with his. With that same demure expression she’d mastered early-on in the company of the Targaryens still in-place, she gave answer to his question. “My nuncle was very kind, and saw to it that I was trained just as an heir might be — I had lessons with a blade and bow nearly every day in the morn and eve, and my Maestor’s lessons midday to allow me a break. I favour a pair of daggers more so than any sword… I’m too slight of build as of yet to properly wield one.”
Well, save for the one Father gave me. Made from Northern steel by a Northern blademaster, and gifted by a man she still thought her father, it was like she had a small piece of home with her. One that’d last in perpetuity.
The thought brought her mind back to Rickon, her baby brother. Her mind began to turn sour, and angry at the thought of him alone, or worse, preyed upon by the vultures of the South. She would need prot—
“A pair of daggers?” Rhaenys sounded part scandalised, part fascinated. “When last you spoke of a spar, I thought you’d use an axe or sword.”
Aegon’, however, reacted queerer still; even beyond that of Rhaenys. That small smile that made so many a noblewoman swoon had been replaced by a dashing, boyish grin that showcased dimples that’d have been cute on anybody else. He seemed very, very excited.
He stepped towards her then. “Truly? Two daggers? No shield or singular sword?” Aegon stepped closer still, and took up one hand. He looked over the hand as he pulled her forth, seemingly looking for proof that her words were the truth. In no time at all, he saw her seated betwixt him and Rhaenys, and as he aided her into said seat, he spoke again. “Twice a day you’d said, Gods… wait, but what of your lessons with a Septa? I’d heard the Starks had one.”
“A bitch. I’d had the unfortunate chance of sharing a hall with her when we went to retrieve our sister,” Rhaenys’ words were said as she grabbed up one of Visenya’s hands and interlaced their fingers. When she saw the look of Visenya and Aegon both, she let out a giggle, and raised her free hand to her mouth. She gave the pair a look of mock pleading next. “Oh please don’t tell Mother and Father I cursed.”
“She can be serious, I swear it,” Aegon didn’t acknowledge Rhaenys’ words, but rather, he addressed Visenya. “My question was as well. What of your lessons with a Septa or… well, a Lady, if not a Septa?”
Visenya felt the amusement at Rhaenys’ behaviour wash away when Aegon asked his question again. Trepidation and a sinking feeling came forth, and quick as one might blink their eye, all of a sudden, she was back at Winterfell. Marna was tucked away in an alcove, dark and dank, overhearing Father argue with Lady Catelyn about her inclusion in said lessons with a Septa; she’d never hated her, but including a bastard would reflect poorly on Sansa.
She had spoken with Fa— no, Lord Stark… yes, he wasn’t Father anymore — she’d pleaded with him to allow such lessons to be forgotten lest more issues on account of her presence rise up, and with a sadness she’d seldom seen in him, he had agreed. Time with Maester Lewyn, Ser Rodrik, Lord Stark, and Old Nan had been all she needed.
“Sister?” Rhaenys was suddenly closer now, and sans any look of teasing, which was a rarity given her aloof, affectionate and teasing nature. As for her eyes, when violet met violet, Rhaenys’ were full-up with worry, and there seemed a lingering sense of affection, genuine and true.
It brought her back to Robb and Arya. It was only they who were truly close to her. The others were too young, or in the case of Sansa, too much like her Lady Mother.
Visenya did her best to school her features lest her sadness or uncertainty show, and quash the rising negative memories, and all the feelings that came of them. “You have to excuse me… the sight is too marvellous,” She attempted to gush as Sansa so oft did, and made a half-hearted gesture towards the flower-framed view of the water below. It stretched into the horizon just as it did from the balcony of her chambers.
There was a quick exchange betwixt her siblings, one she noticed for nary half a second, and then Aegon spoke. Thankfully, he left alone her lack of an answer, and carried on with where she’d steered their conversation.
“Water, flowers and the fishmongers below,” Aegon sounded unimpressed, and the wave of his hand in the direction she’d gestured conveyed much the same. “I much prefer the sight of my two lovely sisters.”
Rhaenys leaned across Visenya, ‘accidentally’ brushing against the smaller girl as she slapped at Aegon’s chest. When the two made contact, there was a lingering quality to Rhaenys’ touch, and a shift in Aegon; he all but leaned into the contact she initiated. Even Rhaenys’ tone had a different quality. “You tease our little sister, baby brother?”
“You wound me. I tease neither her nor you,” Aegon shifted, walking around from where he’d been until he was betwixt the pair of them, occupying the space to Visenya’s left. Once there, he brought up a hand towards each, and moved their hair so as to gaze upon each without their errant strands of hair blocking his view. “As the only one able to look at the pair of you, I can say ‘tis I with the greatest view.”
Visenya looked down with an odd mixture of feelings rising in her chest, while Rhaenys let out a little coo, and moved a smidge closer to him. She whispered something then, and try as Visenya might to hear it, she couldn’t.
For the food had arrived… Visenya thanked the Old Gods for that. Aegon’s comment had made her feel strange, as had his hand upon her hair and the closeness of his person to hers.
As the servants placed food and drink, and offered further service by way of entertainment, Visenya looked between her siblings. Each had made to sit as close to her as possible — far closer than they’d initially been — and neither gave her a shortage of attention even despite the presence of so many others.
That sinking in her stomach rose up as one thought went through her mind; Targaryen or Stark, she’d not be the Visenya she was beginning to think they desired.
“Won’t you eat, Sister?” Rhaenys’ words made her halt her thoughts.
“The lemon cakes are of particularly good quality. Mother had all the best ordered for the next moon now that you’re here, and we’ve never been left wanting by our chefs,” Aegon grabbed up one of the aforementioned treats, and popped one — whole — in his mouth. He chewed and swallowed with the speed only a ravenous man could make… and next, he held one out towards her.
But Visenya’s appetite was gone as her thoughts turned her stomach sour.
So she politely declined with a small, demure smile on her face; there was… much, entirely too much, to think about in the coming days, and still, evidently, a myriad of adjustments to be made.
Yet time, she had not, for a meal with the Lannisters, and another with the Tyrells, and more time with the courtiers all before the tourney, had been ‘asked’ of her; and to think think she still need make time for her baby brother, her light in a city of darkness.
Rickon wouldn’t be alone, nor would she.
Visenya peered at her reflection in the looking glass, and let a frown mar her features when she saw the girl peering back at her.
This was ‘Visenya’ — the name they gave her, or the name they claimed her mother had given her. Gone was her dark hair, her Stark hair, and in-place was that of a Targaryen, like Rhaegar or Aegon.
Even her manner of dress was wholly different. Thin fabrics, light and fair-coloured as the flowers in the fields that littered the countryside. Yet, she was used to furs, thick and warm and comfortable as Father’s embrace had been, rare as such instances came about.
The thought of the last she’d been given brought a smile to her, one that grew when memories came to life of Arya and Robb… gods, how she missed them. Her dearest cousins, those who had loved her when she was nought but Marna, a bastard half-sister.
She wondered if they still loved this ‘Visenya Targaryen’ as she was claimed to be. A sinister thought, if ever she’d had one in her time spent at King’s Landing. Another came not long after; when next they saw her in Targaryen finery and in the company of House Targaryen, would they still call her sister?
Or would it be ‘Princess’, as if Marna was but a memory of another life, already dead, buried and forgotten?
She was roused from such sour thoughts by way of an announcement at her chamber door, the voice belonging to Ser Jaime. “Princess Rhaenys, and Princess Daenerys wish to enter.”
Visenya pulled at the strings of her gown. They were knotted many times over, so that nary a view of the valley her breasts made could be glimpsed. It wasn’t how they were meant to be worn, and many would call it an affront to Southron fashion, but she cared not. Her comfort mattered more to her than appealing to any would-be suitors; many would want for her name and blood.
“Send them in, Ser.” Her answer came as she finally stepped away from the looking glass, and lowered the hand that’d been at her neckline.
Her chamber door opened not a second later, scraping the rug she’d moved nearer thereto as it did so. Rhaenys swept in first, and with a speed that saw her to Visenya faster than one bird’s song could be sung.
As her arms wrapped up Visenya’s smaller form, and pulled her closed as could be, Daenerys reached the wine that was but a few steps away from the sisterly embrace.
“You look like a Lysene doll, sweet sister.” Rhaenys combed her fingers through Visenya’s long, flowing hair as she spoke such words.
“You never could keep your hands off yours,” Daenerys’ quip came as she took the few steps required to pull Visenya from Rhaenys’ embrace, and into one of her own. It was only partial, however, for one hand held aloft a cup of wine. “Fortunately for me, you always did share.”
“Father always claimed I would need share much and more.” Rhaenys took up Visenya’s free side, and each hand sought out the strings of her dress. With a dexterity that was both alarming and impressive, it was loosened to such a state that nearly a third of her breasts were visible.
“Rhaen—” Daenerys’ words were cut off by Visenya.
She stepped away, pushed Rhaenys’ hand down, and brought her hands back to the strings; one sought them out, the other hid her breasts. “Do you know how long that took me to tie?”
“I… you have my apologies. I only wished to see you in the dress as it was meant to be worn. If I caused you to take offence, know it wasn’t what I meant to do,” Rhaenys bit her lower lip, and clasped her hands tightly before her. She remained where she’d been when Visenya had taken her step away.
“Mayhaps you could make it up to our ‘Senya by doing as she’d done—” Daenerys scrunched up her nose at her own pause, her eyes doing much the same. It made her look far cuter than Visenya thought she herself would ever appear. “— though, I should think your knot should be a touch more fas— ornate.”
Visenya prodded Daenerys in the side just as she’d do to Arya when the girl acted particularly bratty. “You think my knots barbaric, sister?” She would let Rhaenys’ apology hang, for she was not pleased with her; the Princess had been so familiar since first they met, and still, after so long, it continued.
Elia’s words of warning said back in the carriage rang in her ears; Rhaenys is possessive.
“Not barbaric, only hastily tied and efficient,” Daenerys returned Visenya’s prodding, initially catching her off-guard given her thinking — that didn’t remain for very long. Visenya had long since grown used to flicking away the hands of others thanks to her siblings up North.
The pair giggled as they jostled one another, and when finally they halted, content and catching their breath, Rhaenys stepped forward. She wore a look of the most demure quality; Visenya had never seen so submissive a side from the Princess.
“Might I?” One hand gestured towards the opening of her gown, which now hung loosely where once it’d been tight.
Visenya’s eyes sought out Daenerys for a second’s time, if even that. She had on her face a visage of kindness, and assurance. It was obvious she desired that Visenya allow Rhaenys to make amends for her slight.
So tentatively, Visenya gave her nod. When Rhaenys moved closer, she stood tall with her head raised; it was so oft her that looked down or away. But even a packless wolf could be dangerous, and so Visenya would see that proven — she was not hers for any Targaryen to do as they please.
If they claimed her, then she was a Princess, and as she’d seen, with such a title came no small amount of power.
“Father is strong. The Lannisters shan’t say a word in poor taste about you, nor any of us,” Rhaenys’ words were whispered in encouragement as the Targaryen party sat in waiting for their guests.
Rhaegar, the King, sat at the head of the table just as Father had for long as she had memory. Elia was right by his side, the two clearly smitten with one another by the way they interacted; from him personally filling her cups, to Elia insisting that she sneak him a piece of fruit or cheese when she thought the others not looking.
The giggles they shared in those moments made her go back to the girl in the tower that she’d been. One that had many a thought of a man whisking her away to do as they were doing.
Princess as she now was, there was nothing in the world she’d not give to go back to how her life had been. Pretty dresses, exotic food and drink, the company of her new house, all of it would be a worthy sacrifice to see her life back to the mundane state it’d once been in.
She turned from staring at her wine-filled cup — and the King and Queen — to looking elsewhere in the room.
There were no shortage of sights to take in, from persons to flowers, tapestries and fabrics, and more, to the life that happened beyond the confines of this grand, but somehow stuffy room.
Yet, for some queer reason, her eyes sought out those who she now broke bread with on a daily basis; the Targaryens. Rhaenys and Aegon had taken up the seats on either side of her, with Daenerys to Rhaenys’ right and Viserys to Aegon’s. Together, the five formed a long line on one side of the table, whilst the other remained empty for the Lannisters.
Her siblings conversed past her, Viserys and Daenerys joining in, each on occasion; Viserys was too invested in his cups to mind any others all that much, and Daenerys did as Visenya — she dreamt.
Until one could no longer do so.
For Visenya, that moment came when Aegon tapped her hand under the table. His was larger, more muscular and veiny than she remembered when she felt it, and it was that observation that nearly lost the words which he spoke to her.
“Do you know much about our grandmother, or great uncle?” His visage was friendly, as was his voice.
Visenya knew of Rhaella Targaryen… but she’d thought her long dead. Father had only ever spoken of her twice so far as she could recall, and each time with a sadness in his voice. One that’d most oft turn to anger, then sorrow, for she would hear tell of Aerys not long after. Daenerys’ words when she’d given the earrings had seemed to indicate much the same.
“I know of Queen Rhaella. She’s Daenerys’ mother, and the King’s.” Visenya’s eyes flicked to the man when she made mention of him of their own accord. He truly was a handsome, kind-looking man when he wore a smile, and yet, fierce and sharp-featured as a dragon in times of anger.
The look he wore upon his face when he spoke of Lord Stark made her wince… but n—
“Daenerys and Father, and Grandmother’s the most beautiful woman of her age.” Rhaenys had a fondness in her voice when she spoke of the woman, and when she’d corrected her earlier in her words, there’d been no pointed or agitated quality. She was just… gentle. It made her feel remorse for her earlier annoyance with her; she was aiding her in dressing, and the dresses of the south were pretty. Beautiful.
Visenya just disliked how sheer some were, or how much skin others showed. It went at odds with how she wished to be.
“Mother will be glad to hear the ‘of her age’ portion of your compliment when next I see her.” Daenerys quipped, speaking up from Rhaenys’ side and from behind a glass of wine. Her attention then shifted to Visenya, after she made Rhaenys sweat and Aegon as well as Viserys share laughter; even the aforementioned ‘Senya couldn’t help but smile — it wasn’t oft that Rhaenys was the person teased. “I thought Rhaegar might make mention of her, or your brother and sister. Perhaps my brother was too eager in having you back to pay any real mind to sharing news of them.”
“Father had said they wished to remain at Dragonstone until the tourney was over. Nuncle Aemon’s health couldn’t handle so many visitors, and grandmother… She desires not the presence of any but family.” Rhaenys’ voice almost sounded girlish as she spoke of the two, despite her age of ten and eight. It was as if she were turned younger at nought but their mentioning.
“We should have remembered, ‘tis true, Aunt,” Aegon’s words made Visenya turn to look his way once more, and as soon as she did so, he fixed her with a wide, toothy smile that made him look a mix of boyish and manly. Many a girl would find him fetching.
By the gods, Sansa would be beside herself if she were close as Visenya was, only to remain silent and look elsewhere by and large.
“Tell her of my mother and our Nuncle Aemon then, to make amends.” Daenerys’ voice was sweeter now.
“You heard our lovely little aunt, Aegon. I’ll even aid you — Grandmother’s kinder than even Mother. Gentle, and loving, and innocent in a way few ever are. When first she catches sight of you, there’ll be little you can do to avoid the hug she’ll sweep you up in,” Rhaenys wrapped an arm around Visenya’s chair, but didn’t make to pull her closer, or initiate contact. “If any is to blame for my love of holding you, Dany or even Aegon close as could be, ‘tis her.”
“Blaming my mother for your love of affection?” Daenerys folded her arms and pouted, her face scrunching up in such a way that reminded Visenya of Arya whensoever she was caught doing something that she shouldn’t; the dimples of Daenerys, however, were a layer of added cuteness that none could handle.
Not without getting charmed by the girl.
“More like thanking her for it,” Rhaenys answered back as she finally made to pull Visenya closer with a gentle arm around her shoulders. Her skin was soft as could be against Visenya’s own, and as she enveloped her, the scent of flowers and sweet-smelling wine filled her nostrils. “So many lack the joy a hug brings. Especially when shared with those you love.”
Daenerys let out a little coo and pushed in close to Rhaenys, happy with her words.
Aegon, however, snorted and whispered something to Viserys. The two shared a laugh.
And then the knocks sounded upon the door, and the voice of Ser Jonothor announced the arrivals. “Lord Tywin Lannister, Your Grace, and his family as well.”
Rhaegar didn’t give permission for them to enter as soon as the good knight finished speaking. Instead, he made sure to seek out Visenya’s attention, and when he found that he had it — hard as it was for her eyes to meet his own — he smiled. The look was soft and gentle, and the words which he spoke matched. “You’ll do well, Visenya. Have nary a worry, my youngest. My warrior.”
“Our little wolf-dragon,” Elia had a wistful smile on her face, one that she shared with Rhaegar as the pair looked her over.
Visenya, their little ‘wolf-dragon’ flushed and looked down. Praise and attention, lavished as it was upon her, was one such thing she’d never grown comfortable with. The wine she’d sipped whilst she sat waiting with the other members of her new house didn’t aid the matter. Nor did Rhaenys’ scent and feel.
Altogether it was smothering, and now, there would be a half-dozen more present to look her over. This time, those who would be so near would care not for her, only her name and her blood.
Rhaegar’s words to permit them entry weren’t heard, but the scraping of the door and the steps of those that came, were.
When next Visenya’s eyes rose, her violet pools took in the blonde-haired, red and gold-dressed party of House Lannister. There was Lord Tywin, tall, stern and graceful, with an aura of power that nearly made her bow her head once more — but she was a Princess and a Stark.
Her wolf blood demanded she meet his eyes and back down from no challenge a lion might give. The man seemed to smirk then, and gave a barely-perceivable nod to the woman that stood off to his right, her hands wrapped around a small boy with the very same eyes as she herself possessed.
There was one other boy that stood behind the woman, and then by his side, a man that looked much like the rest of those present; Visenya wondered if they too were of relation. Why else might they appear so similar, down to eye-colour and face structure?
Was incest so normal to the Southron people?
“Lord Tywin, a pleasure to see you and your family in good health,” Rhaegar said as he rose from his seat, and looked the Lannisters over with warm eyes. “The Crown welcomes you, and thanks you for your service.”
Lord Tywin gave a dutiful nod of his head. “You honour us, your grace,” his voice was deep and rich as Visenya remembered it to be, and that same aura present in his walk, was in his voice.
Rhaegar’s smile grew. “Please, my Lord, be seated.” He himself did as he urged, and wrapped an arm around Elia once able to. “With your arrival, the food should be out in but a moment’s time — before it comes, why don’t you introduce your family to my youngest?”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Tywin’s eyes, piercing and strong, met hers. There, they remained… for a second’s time before he turned and gestured to the woman seated at his side. “My daughter, Cersei Lannister, and her husband, Tyrek Lannister.”
Cersei received a look then from Tywin, and continued where the older man had left off, her voice honey-sweet, and with that same inflection of power that her father possessed. “Our children, Jeyson and Legot,” the older was the former, and the younger, the latter. “Might I say, Princess, what little I heard of your beauty was still too far from the truth. Any mother would be glad to have a daughter of your likeness.”
Lyanna… Mother would never know.
Visenya swallowed, and managed a small smile the likes of which she’d first given to the Targaryens when they’d claimed her. All who knew of her knew she’d come from the North, a frigid, quiet persona would not be hard to fathom as a result thereof. “You have my thanks for such kind words, Lady Cersei. I can see that tell of a Lannister’s beauty weren’t fabricated.”
Pleasantries continued to be exchanged whilst the two families waited for the food to arrive.
Once it had, and whilst the servants began to set it all upon the table betwixt the Lannisters and Targaryens, the one, centre conversation shifted from niceties to topics of importance.
Naturally, the first that came about was of the tourney that was set to begin on the day after the morrow. It had been spoken of so oft since first Visenya had been with them, that she’d begun to grow bored of hearing information about it come up.
But that changed when Lord Tywin had looked upon Aegon with a raised glass, and toasted his bravery for joining the joust when so many men of renown — and vast experience — were going to be present.
Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan, amongst others, were names that came forth in her mind when she thought of dangerous opponents one could match-up against. Visenya had seen not one joust in her life, but she’d read of many, and had stories told to her of more by way of Old Nan.
Visenya blinked away thoughts of the Kingsguard, and renewed her focus of attention on her brother. Aegon. He took Lord Tywin’s words well, for Visenya had assumed them a jibe, especially with the earlier thought-of Ser Jaime at the door, near enough to hear.
“You have my thanks, Lord Tywin,” Aegon seemed as regal as the King with the gracious way in which he spoke. His visage was one that she swore she’d seen Rhaegar wear too, down to the raised nose and cool air; it reminded her of when she’d seen the King meet with the bulk of his council. “I’m sure you must be eager to see Ser Jaime in the joust as well — he’s won much glory in the years he’s served our family. A finer son, few could ever hope to have.”
Visenya thought it callous to make mention of Ser Jaime’s service to the crown. He was Lord Tywin’s firstborn boy, one that he had hoped would inherit if what she knew was true… instead, it was the Imp. A figure spoken of with great distaste in the North, from lowborn to the highest of lords.
“Might we mention the wonderful new Princess in the room, Father, rather than joust or melee?” Cersei’s voice was as honey ridden as Rhaenys’ had first been, yet it lacked the warmth or sincerity thereof. Northern as she was, Visenya knew when a person had an inner-chill. It was evident in their visage, just as it was in Cersei’s; calculating, cunning… like Lord Tywin, yet sans the grandfatherly looks that made him seem a touch less vicious.
Tywin shared a look with Rhaegar, one that she took to be fond, and with the appearance about him that all menfolk had whensoever they spoke of the women in their lives. “A bit of council for you, Your Grace — daughters remain daughters from their first breath, until your last,” the two shared a look that all menfolk did when they spoke of the women in their lives, then after a toast betwixt the two, Lord Tywin spoke again, and as he did his eyes joined those of his daughter to look upon her.
Most Lannisters present now gazed upon her; the two Lordlings had flickered betwixt her, Rhaenys and Daenerys the whole time they’d been seated. Lady Cersei had failed to teach them propriety, or she raised them spoiled, sans care for the comfort or lack thereof others felt in their presence.
“Allow me, Lady Cersei,” Elia seized the chance to speak after the second’s silence following Rhaegar and Lord Tywin’s words. Her tone was kind, and accent prevalent as ever, yet there also seemed some other inflection Visenya couldn’t place.
So Visenya looked to Cersei as Mother spoke to the noblewoman.
As her introduction to Visenya for the Lannisters present came, she watched as Cersei’s face grew red, until the woman looked away so as to sip from her cup. There seemed a tension betwixt her and the queen, and if that the case, Visenya knew where the fault had to lie.
And that wasn’t with Elia.
Food and drink had been beyond plentiful, as it was when it came time to each and every meal they’d had. One might think each and every time to eat was a feast, given the sheer quantity and quality of the food set atop the tables time and time again.
Yet, to Lannister and Targaryen alike, it seems commonplace. As if no meal need be rationed or of a type that wasn’t exotic and made for flavour rather than pure consumption.
Visenya had found that to be another addition to the list of queer things she’d noted thus far. Any more sights seen would need be written on a second piece of parchment.
One point in their favour, however, and one that made her recollect the North with a wistfulness she so hated to feel, was how the families acted as they feasted together. Politics had a place that was made certain, yet there seemed a familiarity, a realness in the way all interacted.
Mayhaps it was common ground in their assurances that it was they who were the best of the — Southern — realm. If not that, then maybe the years and years the families had known one another served to keep a lighter air for all to enjoy.
And perhaps still, it was all in her mind, and the Southron people could switch their person whensoever need arose to do so.
Father, nay, any Northmen, would claim it was that out of all her thoughts.
“Uh, Pr-Princess Vi-Visenya?” A soft, stuttering and altogether boyish voice came from behind her. In her observant, food-contented and thoughtful state post-meal as she’d been, Visenya had failed to notice the younger of the two Lannister boys rise from his seat, and go around the table in her direction as Rhaegar ordered minstrels to play a sweet-sounding song.
By the Gods did she wish to turn him down and seek out her baby brother Rickon in-place of the blonde boy of a similar age. He always loved dancing with her or Sansa, or his lady mother. She suspected the motion, giggles and song did much to make him enjoy it as much as he did.
Used to.
A tap below the table, and upon the softness of her fabric-covered thigh from Rhaenys made her put forth an answer to the boy’s query. “Yes?” She would keep her voice level and cool, and fix him with as much a royal look as she could muster.
It seemed to work based on the way the boy swallowed and took a half-step back, the offending foot causing a small noise as he scraped it across the rug-covered floor. When her eyes went down thereto, then back up to his own, she could see the worry on his face plain as she could with Rickon or Bran alike.
Such was the reason for her next action, thoughtless, foolish, as it was.
Visenya rose from her seat as the music picked up in pace, and from there, it was nary a step to the younger boy. Little Legot Lannister.
With the distance closed, the boy looked up at her with worry-filled blue eyes. Others looked on, Visenya could feel their eyes upon her face, awaiting the action she’d take as she stopped a step from him. “You wished to dance… or do I presume?”
Her voice was quiet enough so that only the pair of them, and those sat nearest — Rhaenys and Aegon — could hear.
Legot shook his head, his blonde hair that’d been so properly brushed now waving about in a manner that was all too cute and reminiscent of her Bran… then, after realising what he’d done, his eyes went wide. The blonde boy stammered, then he remembered his station and took a brief pause. “I h-had hoped to, Princess.”
Cersei and Lord Tywin looked on as she allowed the young lord to take up her hand and lead her to the open floor. Each wore a look that seemed pleased, and thoughtful, but beyond that, Cersei seemed… thankful? It was odd, the expression the woman who’d traded minor barbs with Elia now seemed genuinely pleased.
The rest of her family watched on just as the Lannisters did, but not for long.
Viserys took Rhaenys to dance, and Aegon, Daenerys.
For a first meal, the Lannisters pushed little, and allowed her much and more in the way of comfort. Lord Tywin had seemed content to measure her, and Cersei, pleased to be amongst the first to look upon and speak with her.
Mayhaps Rhaegar had a hand in that.
As Visenya danced with Legot, and then next — despite the hesitance she so oft had about her — Aegon, she allowed the night of festivities to take her. There were no worries about House Targaryen or House Stark, Marna or Visenya, dragon or wolf.
But there was music, melodious and beautiful, the calls of owls from the nearby patch of woods, laughter from those at the table and dancing alongside her.
There was peace.
Visenya blinked open her eyes and rolled from her side to lay upon her stomach as the calls of birds grew too loud to ignore. With little tugging motions at the soft, silken sheets, she pulled herself up the bed and frowned when the pillow was caught under her elbow.
She pushed at it, annoyed at the material and the treacherous nature it dared take with her so early in the morning. Unfortunately, as she slapped at the offending item, her hair was caught under her arm and so she ended up falling face-first into the cloud-like pillow. It was a rude awakening, and one that made her throw off the sheets with an angry urgency.
Thankfully, the morning was cool, and having left her balcony open late in the evening when she’d returned, the chilly air of the morning greeted her in full force. It was that same action that’d cursed her to rise early — everything had a cost, as it went.
Visenya sighed, blew her errant strands of hair free of her face, and pushed herself up and out of bed. That chilly air was a reprieve from the heat the drink she’d consumed had caused her, and beyond that, it served to make her rise quicker as a state of alertness was brought forth; she had never fancied morning.
Risen as she was, she waited to hear a call from her door. Daenerys or Rhaenys, mayhaps even Aegon, or the King and Elia, unlikely as that’d been in the moon or so she’d been present.
So oft was that the case, she half-expected Rhaegar had given an order to the rest of House Targaryen to see her risen early by each and every member… save for Viserys, whom Rhaenys and Aegon seemed not to trust despite the latter’s drinking with their uncle.
Visenya felt a chill run down her spine, one of the utmost discomfort; an odd thing given her love of the cold.
But she found it wasn’t the cold that’d caused it.
Her mind, as it oft did at the thought of Aegon or Viserys, thought of the foulest of things. It conjured up Aegon, asking for her hand even despite the fact of his betrothal to Rhaenys. Old Gods or New, it made no difference, a union of brother and sister was an abomination.
Horrid.
Offensive.
Yet Rhaenys was Aegon’s sister-betrothed as she’d known from when first she’d seen them. Father. Lord Stark. He had been the one to share that news with her only some few moons back, after she’d had a dream of soaring high above, beyond clouds and vision… only to then be peering down at a small mound with a singular tree thereatop, the fresh dirt covered in winter roses.
The latter sight had filled her with a lingering sadness.
Just as the dream she’d only just had this past night had. Much of it was hard to remember, yet after she’d stumbled to bed, sleep had come quickly due to the drink and the dancing. It had been most restful, save for the scant few seconds prior to her rising the first time; Rickon, alone and shaking in a bed far too large, and in a space much darker than any child deserved to be in alone.
She knew it was her mind playing tricks on her, deceiving her. Why she suffered as she did was a mystery to her — the gods were cruel to steal her from her family, but all had to face trials in life… even if some bore greater ones than others.
Rickon, however, was a child. Far too young and much too innocent to face the world as would be required of him.
She would need spend time with him day after day, lest the Southerners fill his head with poison. Their house would never be without friend in her, even taken away as she was and with the colours of red and black oft upon her, House Stark would be as her own.
Visenya had finally stopped peering at herself in the looking glass after she was dressed and done up in her finery. Always was the sight she made for strange to her, the whitish hair atop her head and the jewellery she wore all but foreign, just as the surrounding chambers and contents thereof were.
Rhaenys had spoken true when she said Visenya would like them, however, for there was nary a thing present Visenya could dislike or find fault with. Not even the little miniature bed near to her hearth, where Balerion would visit on occasion, bothered her.
Mayhaps it was the little ‘dread of rats’ as the tomcat was called that she found most comforting. He was a silent, warm companion that fancied cuddling just as much as her little pup did.
Yet, another thought of Rickon made her swallow, the tightness of her throat from the nerves she felt forced downwards as she stepped towards the exit to her chambers. Weakness, however strong it might well up in her, could not be shown. Nervousness, cravenness, had no hold of her.
So Marna sought out the door and with all the confidence Daenerys or Rhaenys exhibited, threw it open and strolled out. Another could see her door closed; no dirty smallclothes had been left out, nor anything else that required privacy.
“Ser Loras,” That was all she gave by way of greeting to her Kingsguard — it was he who seemed to have been chosen as her personal companion and constant cohort. Just as Jaime and Rhaenys were oft together, or Daenerys and Ser Barristan.
“Princess,” the man of similar age to her fell into step at her side. He had initially desired to walk at her heels, or a pace back even, but she desired a person by her side. Those of the Targaryen household guard could walk behind her rather than a knight of Ser Loras’ quality.
He was one of few seldom a negative word had been spoken about, and not once had such words come from a Targaryen that meant them.
Nary a dozen steps through the dimly lit halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, she paused, and turned towards the door she did so desire to enter alone. She gestured for the men who stood on either side to have it opened for her, and when the younger hesitated, she raised her nose and looked more pointedly at his person.
Her violet eyes commanded he obey, and obey he did.
“We’re to be left undisturbed.” Visenya’s voice was cold, and she cared not for any response that the men present might offer. Strides as long as she could manage carried her forward, and one motion of her arm saw the door closed, and a second, barred.
She leaned back against it once their privacy was assured, and then she turned to look at the rooms Rickon had been ‘given’ use of.
Royal as they were, there seemed a lack of warmth in the way the place had been decorated. There was no order to the portraits as there was in her room, nor was there a torch lit in all areas, so that the entirety of the vastness they’d given him was alight; just as she’d dreamt, the space was dark.
And so she took quick steps towards the bed which she’d joined him upon a dozen times over. Quickly, her feet carried her across the bearskin rug and stone floor alike, with not so much as a hint of her presence given the deftness of her steps.
Nearer to the bed, she saw a blanket and fur-covered lump in the centre of the bed, a pile of pillows from the furniture around the room piled high thereround. One could be simple and still know who it was enveloped in a ‘pack’ of pillows.
Visenya raised a hand, slight as the rest of her, and pressed it to her neck. As before, her throat felt tight. It was as if she might choke on nothing but the air she breathed and her mouth’s water.
With that feeling only worsening, she climbed atop the bed and crawled to Rickon, her hands and feet dragging along the combination of sheets and furs as she sped towards him. The moment she was within reach of his small, curled up form, she threw back the covers so that she could join him; sans a look or word, he burrowed into her, seeking out his sister’s arms.
Immediately, she wrapped them round him tight as a tick and pulled back the covers over them. His miniature castle made from feather-filled pillows was pulled closer a moment later, and then she leaned back, folded, yet comfortable in a way only possible when in the presence of family.
True family.
She’d known her brother since he was a babe, pink and sobbing, and now he was a boy, young, curious, innocent.
Innocent.
Her hands sought out his back of their own accord as she buried her face into the messy hair atop his head.
“Tired, baby brother?” Her hands rubbed soothing circles, occasionally stopping to feel for bumps or lumps; none seemed present.
Rickon shook his head against her chest.
“Do you… would you wish to see the sparring yard? We could watch knights fight for us,” She continued to rub his back, occasionally raising a hand to that thick, curly hair of his. Would that she could see all his tension and loneliness ridden, but she wasn’t even powerful enough to keep him in the North where they belonged.
That made him raise his head from where it’d been buried. His eyes sought out hers, then he raised small, balled-up fists to those same, wondrous, beautiful… sad eyes to rub thereat; the redness of them was revealed to her as soon as those same hands lowered back to his sides. He looked as if he’d been in a constant state of tears, with nary a happy thought to keep him going.
“Please?” It took but one word from her baby brother to turn her heart to mush.
She was a Princess now. A Targaryen.
All that she could get him, she would.
“When, baby brother? Now or later… have you even broken your fast yet, or bathed?”
When Rickon giggled and burrowed deeper into her, she suspected she had her work cut out for her this day.
Yet, it made her happy, strange and horrible as it was to say.
At least, with Rickon here, she had purpose. She could busy herself in seeing to his care beyond just visits. Mayhaps she could do well to raise him — his mother she was not, but that needn’t mean she couldn’t act the part of a mother.
As Elia did with her.
“Here, baby brother,” She presented him with a lemon cake; a favourite of his since first he’d stolen one from Sansa’s plate. “You were perfect for me when it came time to bathe, and you broke your belated fast sans fuss. Mother and Father would be proud.”
“Really?” Sarcastic as the word oft was, from Rickon, it had a child-like mixture of hope and happiness instilled therein.
Just as she — and most any other child she suspected — had, Rickon sought the approval of his parents.
Unfortunately, he’d have to make due with her.
“Really,” She leaned down, and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose. In doing so, the scent of flowers and oils greeted her, as did the softness of his skin when her lips made contact therewith.
He giggled and pushed away, saying ‘no’ and ‘ew’, and so naturally, as a big sister, she had to pepper his face with as many kisses as she could manage. On and on her tickling and pecks went until Rickon’s giggles were so loud and constant, tears leaked from his eyes; tears she desired be the only kind to fall from him.
Once he gathered himself, he grabbed her hand… and then gave it a tug and looked up at her. As if his meaning wasn’t clear enough, he extended the hand that remained free up, towards her torso — he wanted up, just like he’d demand of Lady Catelyn or Father.
“With words, baby brother?”
“Up, please?” Rickon’s free hand closed and opened thrice over, and if that wasn’t cute enough, he batted his eyes at her and stuck out his bottom lip in a pout far too adorable for any to possess.
She cooed, and swept him up in her arms. Her little pup wrapped his arms around her as soon as he was high above the ground, and then he burrowed into her, tucking his face under her chin as he pressed as close to her warmth as was possible.
That desire for closeness wasn’t one-sided.
As she started towards his chamber door, she wrapped him up in the nearest cloak she spotted and kept him close to her chest. Her arms wrapped tightly around his body, slight and small, and so very frail feeling; Rhaenys was right when she’d claimed him far too young to squire for Aegon.
He needed to be ten and two, or ten and three before she’d feel comfortable enough with such a thought.
Yes, when he was of an age where he could see into her eyes without looking up, then he could serve as a squire.
“Dragons?” Rickon had whispered the word as she pulled open the door.
It gave her pause. Thus, with a slow nod, assuming the boy meant as most did, she gave answer. “Mayhaps, but I’ll be with you—” she leaned in lest Ser Loras or the men-at-arms who trailed after him overheard her. “—little brother.”
Chapter 10: Wolf Blood
Notes:
Here we are with Part 10, and as a note, up to chapter 28 is written and being edited with 29 receiving progress.
I hope all's well with everybody, and have a lovely March!
Chapter Text
Rickon’s little hands clapping before her face as she held him aloft so that he might look over the railing, down, into the sparring yard below were a sight to behold. His cheer was infectious, as were his giggles, and so she couldn’t help but call out to the men below, her visage soft and sweet on account of her little pup, but her single word, commanding as she could make it.
“Again!”
Cool as it was said, she turned her attention back to her brother and switched tones as easily as Rhaenys switched dresses. It matched her face; sweet and soft, as her little Rickon deserved. “Would you like to see different Knights, little brother? Mayhaps more than one man fighting one man?”
“Princess,” Ser Loras started, a note of something she cared not to hear in his tone.
So she cut him off with a raised hand. “You are kind to offer words of caution, Ser Loras, but my brother wishes to see Knights in action. Do the men below tire?”
Ser Loras shook his head after a second’s hesitation. “No, Princess.”
Visenya smiled. “My thanks, Ser.” One step was taken away from the side of Ser Loras, and closer to the railing. Enough so for her one free hand to grasp the railing. “My brother wishes to see two men per side. I care not how you split — take a moment to converse and drink, begin upon my clap.”
When each and every man dipped his head, she felt a course of something unfamiliar pass through her. Metal armour clanked, the voices of the men below, deep and strong, sounded off, and all made sure to look elsewhere as her gaze flickered betwixt them; it was if they feared to set their eyes upon her for too long, much less meet those aforementioned violet orbs.
The Power of a Targaryen.
The thought made her retract her hand from the railing so that she could have it join her other in wrapping around Rickon. He pressed in closer when she drew him in, and with his cheek against her own, she cooed; her pup always sought out the warmth of her skin, North or South, it mattered not.
“Princess,” Ser Loras’ voice was more neutral this time.
Her eyes darted from the face of her happy baby brother, to that of the Kingsguard charged with her safety. Thereupon, his gaze shifted from her to the yard below, and so hers followed — the menfolk had gathered and strapped their helmets. They had blades and shields in-hand.
Visenya shot a sweet smile to Ser Loras. He had oft been kind to her, and the boyishness of his looks aided in the sense of security she felt around him; a man grown, he seemed not to be. Mayhaps if he ever tried something… untoward, she could fight him off.
“Clap, baby brother. Let the Knights below know you’re ready for them to begin.” Visenya raised him higher, for the men to see, and then she turned him towards them.
With a gleeful giggle, he clapped his hands as he’d seen her do thrice over in the time since they’d arrived.
And then it began; a clash of steel.
Visenya had been on the cusp of ordering the Knights to commence their final bout when all had paused in moving to their places, and looked to her right at the same time steps drew near enough for her to hear. Knights and their squires were loud as the equipment they wore, so loud, in fact, that they concealed a vast majority of steps the new arrivals had needed to take to reach her.
Such was the reason Aegon, Rhaenys and Daenerys, as well as their faithful Kingsguard and the men that followed thereafter, were nought but a dozen or so steps from her, and growing nearer with every second she peered their way.
Instinctively, her arms tightened around the oblivious, giggling form of Rickon. He was still enthralled by the half-dozen bouts they’d been witness to, and all in good faith, by men that seemed honourable enough. It had been her duty to keep her wits about her, not only see him amused and pleased; she’d failed.
Now she would have to keep him close to her chest, covered by the blanket she’d brought along, and hope that none of the three would take issue with his presence. “Stay close, little brother,” she pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and slight as she was, tried to bring him close as Lady Catelyn used to; unfortunately, she wasn’t as tall, or womanly.
Her shortcomings were many.
“And here our missing sister is,” Aegon was the first to speak, his voice loud and carrying across the entirety of the sparring yard; he cared not.
Rhaenys and Dany shared a look. Each then giggled, and spoke in a tongue that Visenya couldn’t begin to comprehend, then the former spoke, now near enough to speak with a normal tone of voice. “We missed you, little sister. Aegon rose late, else we’d have broken our fasts with you.”
“You were th— Rhaenys exaggerates,” Aegon seemed to change his mind on what he wished to say after nary three words. “Still, we wished to have you join us for a mid-day meal, and mayhaps spend time together beforehand in the Godswood… or wheresoever else you might desire to explore.”
Visenya dipped her head. “My thanks,” her eyes drifted to Rickon; no ‘brother’ would follow. Instead, she shifted her form, and as a result, Rickon grew to be partially concealed by more of her body. Even her long, flowing, Targaryen hair served to screen him from wandering eyes that matched her own.
Thus, pleased and ready to give a lengthier response, she opened her mouth.
But another spoke before her; Daenerys. Her eyes sought out neither Visenya nor her other niece or nephew.
“Might I meet your pup?” Daenerys was focused on the bundle of Stark boy Visenya held. In that violet gaze she’d feared for so long was a gentle innocence — the very same she’d used on Visenya herself time and time again. It was nearly disarming.
Nearly.
Marna tightened her hold of Rickon, turned again, and took a steadying breath as nerves welled-up. She felt as if she need defend him from a threat that didn’t seem truly present.
What was the matter with her?
Daenerys took a tentative step forward, as one might when approaching a wild animal. Next she held out a hand, slowly moving it towards the curly hair atop Rickon’s head — she spoke words so quiet whilst doing so, that one had to wonder if they’d truly been said.
‘I won’t hurt him’.
Did she trust such words? From Daenerys? What of Aegon and Rhaenys’ presence?
Would Rickon be seen as competition for her affection rather than a boy of three, lost, confused and in need of care?
“Gentle.” Her own voice sounded off, despite not but one word being said aloud. “Please.”
Aegon furrowed his brow at her words. He’d not heard Daenerys’ comment, nor did he seem to sense the state of confliction that resided within her. “We’d not hurt him, little sister. He’s to be my squire,” he stepped closer sans any of the patience or tenderness Dany had exhibited. “And he’s of the North. He’ll be stronger and sturdier than most others — the Northmen always are.”
“Such words only enflame her worry.” Rhaenys was the last to step forward, and with her eyes only momentarily catching Visenya’s before they went to the bundle she held. “Why should the little wolf pup need be strong or sturdy at such an age?”
It struck her as odd that Rhaenys hadn’t moved to grab her up or initiate some form of contact instead of doing as she’d done, and odder still when she’d gone so far as to poke at her brother’s words. They had brought her no small amount of worry. Her baby brother needn’t be brawny or powerful, not when he was all but a babe at three years of age, the lot of them spent in the summer.
Daenerys’ extended hand, which had paused when Aegon and Rhaenys stepped up beside her, finally came into contact with Rickon’s soft curls. He pushed further into her when he felt the strange hand — one that surely couldn’t be hers — come into contact with his head. He’d gone so far as to initially wince, as if afraid at the new touch, but when Daenerys cooed and whispered softly in that same unfamiliar language she’d spoken with Rhaenys in earlier, he did something that shocked her.
He sagged, the tension leaving his body as her strange words and soft hands worked upon his scalp, and down the back of his neck.
“What’re you saying?” Visenya couldn’t contain her curiosity. She knew the tongue to be Valyrian… mayhaps High Valyrian, or, well, another, and she knew her time to study said language would soon begin. Already, she had meetings with Aegon and Rhaenys so that the two might aid her in her studies, insufficient as much seemed to be.
“I’m complimenting your little wolf, just as I do you, sweet ‘Senya,” Daenerys' words were said as she ran a finger up and down the centre of his neck, tracing the little column that led from head to rear. When he wiggled under her touch, she cooed as she’d done earlier, and said more words in that soft-sounding, beautiful language. “Iksā hae dōna hae issa, zoklītsos.”
Aegon and Rhaenys shared a look as Visenya continued to clutch and sway with Rickon whilst Daenerys fussed over him — they shared words as well, ones spoken in Valyrian that sounded as flowing and enchanting as Daenerys’.
Yet, their gazes perplexed her as they exchanged those words, sweet-sounding as Daenerys’ and with matching smiles on their faces.
For they were focused on her , not Rickon.
Visenya let out a sigh as she sagged into a silken seat, stuffed and luxurious beyond any she’d ever had in her tower. Time and time again, she was surprised by the finery she was afforded. From that which Rhaenys, Daenerys and Elia pressed upon her whensoever they insisted they dress her or do her hair, to that which had been present from first she’d set foot in ‘her’ chambers.
Even the oils and flowers they gave her when it came time to bathe were of a quality the North could never hope to match without parting with far, far too much coin.
A chill ran through her then. One she’d not felt since her time on the road with the royal family. She turned her head, glancing towards the balcony only to see the curtains weren’t so much as shaking from any sort of watery breeze.
Another ran through her. This time stronger, and then came an urge; the Godswood.
There was an urge to go there deep within.
It has no Weirwood. No carved face for the Old Gods to guard and guide those who kept to them.
She blinked.
But this time, there was no darkness. She saw foliage in a place unfamiliar to her, and covered in the thinnest of snows.
Another chill, and then shaking, as if the cold had taken her.
She blinked again.
Her field of vision had changed, yet it remained similar to where it’d previously been, with one significant change; a tree. It was dead centre, and near to the stump of where another great tree had once proudly stood based on the size of it. She recognised it readily, even sans a face and tears.
It was a Weirwood. Little more than a sapling in truth, but a Weirwood.
In the South.
Visenya opened her eyes and started forward in her seat. She was back in the present now, the hearth burning and the birds singing — even the curtains moved now, flowing as hair might when the wind took it.
“Gods,” she raised her hands and rubbed at her eyes. “I’m going mad here.”
Twas true too. First she’d had a dream of Rickon, now she dreamt of a woods she’d never been to. First without a Weirwood, then with it.
She sought out the balcony again, and thankfully, it looked much like it previously had. Mayhaps the momentary madness was her Targaryen lineage leaking through, exposed as she’d been to it as of late.
Visenya.
Why would he have me named me in her honour? Why would Mother have let him?
Daenerys and Viserys. Rhaella and Aemon. Rhaegar.
All were traditional names of House Targaryen, the same as hers, the same as her siblings.
Siblings.
Aegon and Rhaenys — the two had been betrothed since the former had turned ten and six, yet no marriage had been seen. Nor was one on the horizon, from what I hear.
She swallowed, and thought of her name once more.
Visenya Targaryen; wife of Aegon the Conqueror… but not the sole wife that he took.
Bare feet touched the carpeted floor as she finally rose.
Vaella . Shaera .
Would that she could be named anything but Visenya. It was a name that one could never truly be worthy to bear.
With a sourness in her stomach at the thought of her namesake and her siblings both, she called to the man she assumed stood silent vigil by her door. “Ser Loras, are you present, Ser?”
Visenya winced. There had been no need to add a second ‘ser’ to her sentence. Gods, she truly was stupid.
A barbarian. A Northern, frigid wolf-girl.
She could ride and let loose an arrow better than most, yet she struggled to put names to the many sigils of the Southron houses, or sew as any other proper Royal or Noble might. Her accent aided her not, and her manner of speaking… she was more a bastard here than she’d been in the North.
“Ser Loras is abed, Princess,” the deep, baritone voice of Ser Velaryon, typically the King’s cohort, answered her.
How queer for him to be at my door.
“Is something the matter, Princess?” He seemed to take her call for Ser Loras as her desiring something.
Much and more, Ser. Were she a fool, she’d have said such words aloud.
As for his question, he wasn’t completely off his mark.
She desired food be brought to her so that she herself could then bring it to Rickon — if not, she could bring him to hers, and show off the many trinkets and baubles she ‘owned’. Gods, even a tapestry might amuse him, or bring a smile to his face. “I would have a great luncheon brought here, Ser.”
“I ca—”
The Knight was interrupted then, and by a voice very familiar to her. “You’ll have no need for that, Sister. Father has said we’re to have our mid-day meal together.”
Aegon.
The sum of her greatest worry since first they’d taken her.
“You needn’t worry about it being particularly dull, little sister. I’ll be present too,” Rhaenys’ voice joined Aegon’s.
And so it seemed her plan to spend much and more of her time with Rickon on this day, had come to an abrupt end. The King had — more or less — ordered that she join her siblings for a meal. Decline as she might wish to for the sake of Rickon, such words couldn’t be defied.
“I’ll be along shortly.” Visenya hoped her lack of interest wasn’t apparent to the pair. She’d just… plans had been made in her mind. Rickon required a maternal figure, and she needed a person to dote upon, to shower with affection and hold through all of her worries.
Just as a ship might, she needed an anchor.
“Might I be of assistance in preparing for our meal?” Rhaenys’ voice had a hint of hesitation, the first word taking longer to be said than it oft did with her.
She fears rejection… mayhaps I should for the sake of it. Rhaenys has been far too familiar and seemed to desire contact at all hours of the day.
Visenya imagined the wounded look she would wear, and then, afterwards, the repercussions of her callousness. Not one scenario left her victorious.
Nay, I shan’t deny her, for I needn’t fear her. Aegon’s the one that gives cause for concern by name and marital status alone. Viserys too, if Rhaenys’ words are to be believed.
“Please.”
Visenya’s eyes sought out Rhaenys’ in the looking glass. She had permitted her entry so as to brush her hair and see it done in a manner befitting the Southern fashions after her time of laying around or playing with Rickon. One look from Aegon after she’d let their sister in, hopeful and pleading as it’d been, had seen her grant the same privilege to him.
“Curious about something, sister?” Rhaenys’ words were said in a tone as soothing as the feel of the brush.
Were it not for Rhaenys’ other hand resting on the nape of her neck and tracing the occasional symbol, she’d have shook her head to indicate her answer.
But she couldn’t. Not lest she wished to have her hair pulled by way of the brush that hadn’t halted as her sister awaited an answer.
“I don’t know where to look,” An honest answer she'd give… albeit, not one that told the whole truth behind her gaze. “It’s still strange, having another do as you’re doing now.”
“You can look at me, if you’d like,” Aegon was seated atop her bed, watching the pair of them as Visenya’s hair was taken care of; it was the last thing that needed doing before they’d have their mandatory sibling time.
“Or me,” Rhaenys’ hand upon her nape began to move once more. It sent tingles down the entirety of her back, and made her wish the other girl would expedite the process. “I’m the one labouring whilst our brother lays on your bed and watches us.”
“As future King of the Seven Kingdoms, I need verify how Visenya would have her hair brushed. It’s very important.” Aegon had mastered the regal, drawn-out drawl they oft made fun of in the North, smallfolk and nobleman alike.
“Mayhaps next time you can do it then. I’ve nearly finished as it is, else I’d offer you the brush,” Rhaenys tapped her shoulder and had her stand, and once she did so, the older girl circled her. As Elia might, she looked her up and down, her gaze focused on the work she’d just done. “As long and beautiful as Daenerys’ — it’ll never need styling.”
“I agree. Her natural state is best,” Aegon pushed himself off from her bed and strolled over to the two Princesses now that the matter of brush, hair and fashion were all dealt with. “Might I have the honour of escorting my two beautiful sisters?”
Visenya found such words the perfect opportunity to put to test her knowledge of the game Rhaenys had made mention of. “Wouldn’t it be unwise to spend so much time escorting me around?” Her attention flickered betwixt her siblings as each looked at her with curiosity, mayhaps even a lack of understanding. She supposed she need spell it out to them. “You’re betrothed. It’d leave many with a bad taste in their mouths, especially given our names, if we were seen so close so oft.”
“Ao sagon īlv— Gods, sometimes my mind refuses to make the switch,” Aegon laughed, playing off his slip of the tongue in that language that’d been more and more prominent since she’d begun to acclimate to the city. “I mean to say you needn’t worry. Father will handle any issues that arise or any loose tongues that might wag about our business.”
“Aegon speaks truly,” Rhaenys and he shared a look as they seemed to do quite often, and then the former’s eyes sought out Visenya’s as her hands adjusted the top of her gown. “None in our halls will speak poorly of us, nor of your virtue.”
“You’re sure?” Visenya had been found — by her knowledge — on account of a glimpse of her true hair, and mention of her eyes.
That’d been more than a Kingdom away, and yet, others had still heard of her. Rhaegar and Rhaenys had even seemed convinced in every memory or tale she heard of their growing up, that she was real, and that she’d be found.
So how could either sibling promise a castle’s worth of people would be silent, and let no rumours run amuck?
“Any who dares will meet Father’s justice,” Aegon looped an arm through one of hers, idle as she’d been, and then he took hold of another offered by Rhaenys. With that same wide, boastful smile on his face, he started them out of her chambers and on the path to his own.
Some few dozen steps away.
“How do you always end up with her?” Aegon’s voice was rife with mock anger as he looked upon his two sisters.
Somehow, much like Aegon was complaining about, Visenya had ended up in Rhaenys’ lap.
Mayhaps Rhaenys had forgotten about Visenya’s annoyance only one day past… that, or she cared not, and thought the matter was done and dusted. Her words gave credence to the latter. “I take her.”
“I believe Mother and Father would be rather cross with me if I did as you do.” Aegon snorted then, and took a sip of wine as he leaned back against a pillar.
“I allow you to take me,” Visenya needn’t be silent, not while they discussed her. Her eyes met Rhaenys’ after such words were spoken. “Your cause is aided by your softness, I should tell you. Menfolk are much too… hard.”
Rhaenys didn’t snicker as Visenya would have thought given the crass japes she’d make on occasion.
Nor did Aegon, light-hearted and charming he might oft look, but now, there seemed a shadow cast over both of their faces.
“What?”
Rhaenys was able to put thought to words first. “Aegon has spent too much time with summer knights and their squires, sweet sister,” her grasp grew tighter, covetous, and she leaned forward. Her face was so near to her own, it was as if they were abed once more, sharing a pillow; there was even a hand combing through her hair in an errant fashion. “And I’m glad you find me to be a comfortable pillow. My calling, ‘tis not, but for you…”
“For you, no price is too steep,” Aegon closed the distance between himself and his sisters, and pulled forth a chair.
‘Pulled’.
As a man might, he lifted it fully from the ground so that dreadful scraping sound happened not. He set it down nary ten paces later, and so close that when he took up his seat, his legs pressed into Rhaenys’ — neither seemed to mind.
“Our little baby sister,” Rhaenys cooed just as Daenerys had when she doted upon Rickon.
And then she and Aegon shared laughter at her expense; they had noticed the blush upon her face, and the way she knew not what to do with herself as she worked her hands in her own lap.
She couldn’t very well throw her arms around Rhaenys, or extend forward, to end up atop Aegon.
“More beautiful than any has a right to be,” Aegon joined in Rhaenys’ teasing, the two poking at her flanks, or running a finger thereon.
“You’re a squirmer, aren’t you?” Rhaenys’ eyes bore a different look. One she oft only had when deep in her cups and in the midst of their cuddling.
“You t-toy… with m-me,” Visenya could barely manage the words under the attention lavished upon her by brother and sister alike.
How could one possibly hope to speak whilst they were doing as they were?
“How can’t we?” Rhaenys ran a finger down her back, tracing the centre of it all the way down to the top of her. “We’ve not much time together, just the three of us. Not as of late. Daenerys, Mother and Father, the Courtiers, our lessons — little and less is leftover.”
Visenya had already conveyed why that was good, but Rhaenys and Aegon both had refused to acknowledge her words. Beyond assuring her that no claims about her innocence would be made, they had let the matter drop with nary anything more to be said.
“What of Uncle Viserys?” Mayhaps a change of topic would steer her siblings away from how they’d slowly enveloped her, and back to a state of groundedness.
Aegon ran his tongue along the inner-portion of his upper-lip upon mention of the man. He looked displeased.
“I made no mention of him for he’ll soon be gone,” There was a victorious note in Rhaenys’ tone. One that made ‘Senya wonder if she’d had a hand in his upcoming departure.
“He’s only just arrived… Daenerys will stay, will she not?” Viserys had seemed kind, albeit strange, and amusing. Especially once he was deep in his cups. That saw his lips grow looser, and his pacing stop; Daenerys, ultimately, she was closer to.
Sister. She’s as good as.
Gods, would it be cruel were it all a ruse.
“Daenerys intends to stay until you’re wed, so she’s claimed. I imagine she wants for the same thing that Aegon and I do.” Rhaenys looked to their brother when her words had finished. Expectant and urging, he did as she desired in less than a second’s time, that being to pick up where she’d left off.
“To make up for lost time.” Aegon raised the glass of wine he’d brought over to his lips, then to hers. When she took a small, hesitant sip, and allowed the sweet, reddish liquid to warm her stomach, she took note of the smile each wore.
Rhaenys and Aegon, it mattered not.
Each wished to feed and water her, to take part in all moments of life, small or minute as they might be. Ofttimes she knew not whether she was a prisoner, a pet, or the Princess they claimed her as.
“One can’t make up ten and five years.” Visenya spoke words she’d assumed all knew to be true, and again, in the hopes of garnering some sort of distance. It needn’t be literal.
Rhaenys and Aegon, however, didn’t seem to agree with her statement; the former tutted as Elia might when one of them — Aegon or Rhaenys — misbehaved, whilst the latter, snorted.
When they spoke after a few seconds’ time, the crackling fire and songs from birds being the only noise to fill the silence that’d lingered, they did so together. “We’ll try.”
She hadn’t noticed their shared look, or the way their eyes conveyed meanings deeper than most could put word to.
But there was much she failed to take note of; much and more, and by the Gods did she hope to rectify that.
Rhaenys looked sullen when the trio realised how much time had come to pass. A meal with the Tyrells was to be had in the evening, when the light from the sun above would be setting to provide all who feasted a wonderful spectacle as they did so.
‘Wonderful’ as it could be, like Visenya, Rhaenys and Aegon both desired naught but time with family; she hadn’t the heart to tell them hers included Rickon, by and large.
“You never did make mention of where Uncle Viserys is headed.” Visenya looked betwixt her siblings, who’d slotted her firmly in-between them atop a ‘large’ couch.
In truth, the trio were squashed together, limbs intermingled with bare flesh upon bare flesh in a fashion that wasn’t proper for those of their age or titles.
“He heads to ruins so as to be the Prince thereover,” Rhaenys’ answer was as elusive as Visenya had been for much of her life.
“Rhaenys speaks truly. Uncle Viserys makes for his lands so as to fortify and build where the ground permits,” Aegon gestured to a map of the Seven Kingdoms that’d been painted along the wall in an adjoining room to his chambers. Seldom was it uncovered, and rarer still was it for her to be there to gaze at it, much less read; the latter proved difficult when the tongue and writing thereof proved unknown to her. “See Summerhall, little sister?”
Summerhall.
Many had made mention of it, and she’d personally read of the tragedy after a nightmare had drawn her to it. One in which fire and blood had been so prevalent, but no dragon save for a hatchling was present; fresh and wailing.
“I do,” Her answer was given with a certain forcefulness after she’d realised she’d paused for too long. “Is th—”
“ No,” Rhaenys shook her head, as if her tone of voice hadn’t sufficed. “He’ll not be given Summerhall, nor Dragonstone. Uncle Viserys will go to Moat Cailin, and do as Father commanded.”
Moat Cailin… it was said the place was impregnable, and from what I know, it was the final place thousands a dead Targaryen loyalist saw. When the King had marched North with his host, and took it, supposedly with multi-coloured flames and blood magic, Father had sued for peace and temporarily ‘ceded’ it to him even as it yet stood — he’d never forgiven himself for that, especially since he’d not been at the head of the host for the final portion of the war.
Few had, and many whispered it was I that was at the centre of his error; Lord Stark had gone for me.
He’d taken me.
“He wishes Viserys to stop drinking and whoring. No finer place exists that might prove useful to achieve such aims.” Aegon had a lack of interest in his words. If the expression he wore didn’t make that obvious, it was made abundantly so when he switched topics. “Summerhall, as I made mention of, little sister — ‘tis to be our home when Father finishes it.”
That made her furrow her brow in the purest form of confusion. “Dragonstone is the home of the Crown Prince,” she swallowed as a worrisome thought arose. “Father and Mother said I was to remain here too, when d-”
“Relax, ‘Senya,” Rhaenys’ words were as soothing as a sip of honey when one’s throat was sore. “Aegon misspoke , he mean’s not that we’ll be living there come soon, nor for any time at length. ‘Tis to be as the name implies, a place of rest and lounging when in the midst of Summer — Father’s always said it was dear to him, hence the repairs for the last five years.”
Aegon huffed. “Father only ever goes alone. I wished to offer aid or an opine of my own, but he insisted time and time again,” he plucked a pink flower petal from its stem, and tossed it to the floor below with a look of disdain. One that vanished quickly as it’d risen when his eyes fell back upon his sisters. “Mayhaps that will soon change.”
“Sagon gīda, Valonqar,” Rhaenys’ words were meant for Aegon, but her eyes and attention remained focused on Visenya. “I saw the face you pulled when Moat Cailin was made mention of… you know of this place well, little sister?”
Visenya wasn’t sure what answer should be given. She knew more about the ruins than many a Southron house, sigil or settlement.
“Of course she does,” Aegon sported a grin, yet it seemed insincere, mayhaps even scornful. “Lord Stark would surely have made mention of the many changes Father saw through after the war was over. I’d bet fifty-thousand golden dragons Stark thought it’d be only temporary, like the Stoney Sept.” Finished, Aegon laughed into his cup with a smugness she seldom saw of him; it was unbecoming.
“Perhaps Lord Stark should have thought about that before he stole Visenya from us. He’s lucky…” Rhaenys’ next words were rapidly said in Valyrian, but Visenya needn’t hear them to read what her siblings thought.
As for Aegon’s words, he was right. Fa— Lord Stark had told her of the vassals the King had stolen from the great houses that had been on the losing side; houses Mooton, Whent, Darry, Hawick, Fell, Grandison and Buckler, and all the lesser lords who attended them. That wasn’t all either. Houses Waxley and Redfort paid taxes not to their liege lords, but to the Crown, and houses Royce and Grafton saw to the restoration and upkeep of a portion of the Crown’s navy.
That was on top of the tax all those who rebelled had to pay to the Crown… and some Tully land that was garrisoned by Targaryen troops, which the former had to put forth the coin for the latter’s feed and places to bed down.
“You bring forth those memories when you say aloud his name,” Rhaenys’ tone was biting, and her grip of Visenya tightened, her fingers flexing against the softness of her flesh. “Speak of them no more — Moat Cailin, the Stoney Sept, they’re as much ours as Summerhaul or Dragonstone, and thanks to the Gods, Viserys will be away to the formermost one.”
Aegon snorted, then raised his cup of wine. “To the Gods, Sisters.”
A brief silence then came into being after his mocking toast, one that Rhaenys couldn’t seem to let stand.
“Why don’t you tell her of the lessons she’ll soon start, Valonqar?” Rhaenys’ touch had lessened in firmness, and soon after it’d done so, those hands of hers sought out the long, flowing strands of hair that fell nearly to the top of her rear.
“While you continue to keep close and do as you desire with our sister?” Aegon folded his arms when Rhaenys sent him a look of challenge… one rife with smugness. “Mayhaps I could be convinced.”
“Convinced, is it?” Rhaenys brought a hand to Visenya’s chin so as to turn her face. Gently, and with a tough light as a feather, she did just that. When their matching eyes met, a small, playful smirk came to the former’s face. “What would you have of us, brother?”
As one, Rhaenys and Visenya switched from looking at one another, to both gazing upon him.
In doing so, and whilst they awaited his response, she took note of his arms… and couldn’t help but to compare them to Robb’s — he was the only boy of an age similar to Aegon; that’s all.
They were wider than her own. Thicker-looking, with a shadow cast upon them that seemed — at first — a trick of the flickering torch-light. Upon closer inspection, she learned that to be far from the truth. It was muscle, and a thin bolt of blue ran along it that contained his life’s blood. Sans thick, dark hairs, he looked even more boyish… Robb was stronger, darker of hair and with thick, bulging blue lines that pulsed angrily when he was exerted.
“A kiss on either cheek, mayhaps?” Aegon tapped his left one, sharp and pale, and soft-looking as Rhaenys’ were, then his right — then his eyes darted over to Visenya, and she swore she saw him wince. “Unless you’d find it appalling, sweet sister.”
“Aegon wishes to experience a fleeting moment’s time as the Conqueror, it would seem,” Rhaenys idly tapped her fingers across one of Visenya’s thighs. Seemingly contemplative, and with an underlying tone Visenya failed to place. “Should we humour him, or do yo—”
One singular knock, and then Ser Grandfather’s voice announced Visenya’s saviour, cutting Rhaenys’ words off before all could be said. “Princess Daenerys has arrived to return the Princess Visenya to her chambers for preparations before the Tyrell dinner.”
Mayhaps the Old Gods do have an ear for the prayers whispered in King’s Landing.
Abruptly, Visenya rose from her perch atop Rhaenys’ laps and brushed off her lap. She worried her hands and set her eyes on Aegon’s door, careful to avoid him and Rhaenys both… yet not a second later, her gaze went back to her siblings.
It was as if she were controlled by thoughts that weren’t her own as a warmth not unlike wine filled her, and her gaze switched betwixt the lips of both.
Rhaenys’ seem soft as the silk Sansa sewed with, and Aegon’s seem firmer, rougher, complete with the smallest of cuts likely from a spar o—
“Visenya will be but a moment, Ser Barristan.” Rhaenys called back when neither she nor Aegon did, the big sister in her taking over. Following those words, she rose just as ‘Senya had, and set a hand upon the small of her back; when she spoke, her voice was back to it’s soft, Southron sweetness. “When next I have you to myself, I’ll tell you of the lessons I spoke of—” she leaned in so that Aegon couldn’t hear. “—and of boys.”
That immediately brought a redness to her face even sans the mentioning of anything… improper. It was simply the tone Rhaenys had taken, and the way her lips had moved against her ear’s lobe; there was that queer feeling again.
But then she squashed it lest it grow stronger, and made for the door with quick steps as Valyrian washed over her ears.
Gods, did she wish she could understand what they said whensoever they made the switch.
“I do so hope I didn’t steal you away from Aegon and Rhaenys, sweet ‘Senya. Rhaegar had need of the pair before our meal with the Tyrells this eve, and so I thought whilst he took them, I could take you,” Daenerys’ smile after such words were said conveyed the sense of pleasant, kindness she’d come to recognise as the Princess’ normal state. “Mayhaps to your little wolf? I… I mean not to presume, but I would hold him, if you’d let me.”
Visenya didn’t still or halt as she walked alongside her ‘twin’. She knew Rickon would need be shared with many, and interact with more if he were to do well in the South.
Daenerys’ interest, unlike most others, would do him good and with her there to oversee it, there was little risk lest all was a game; such a thought was impossible to banish, but more and more unrealistic as each day passed her by.
‘Senya’s silence as the pair continued to walk through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast saw Daenerys’ face fall, and more words said in her pretty-sounding voice flow freely. “I needn’t intru—”
“The fault is mine own, not yours — you neither presume nor intrude,” Visenya spoke truly. Unlike any other save Elia, Daenerys’ company was not overbearing, or rife with schemes… or uncomfortable. She had been true and sweet, and with her Rickon, tender in her touches. “I- I find myself responsible for him. I would keep him from harm, schemes and danger until he was of age, if I could. Beyond, even, were I able and he, amenable.”
“He looks to you as his mother now. One can tell by how he fastens himself to you as if he were plate, and you, the Knights he so loves.”
Daenerys’ words brought forth a queer feeling. She hadn’t meant to steal him from Lady Catelyn, nor did she wish to replace the Tully woman… but it had been her desire to treat him as a mother might.
In truth, she knew little of what to do. Sequestered away as she’d been, her chance for interaction with the Starks oft came only when it was mealtime, and her own lady mother…
Visenya would think of Lyanna Stark another time, mayhaps when wine was readily available and no other was present save for the Old Gods to hear her. She squeezed Daenerys’ hand, seeking strength as she spoke. “I think myself unworthy. I can wash and feed him as a maid might, entertain him as a Princess may, but by and large I am kept away from him,” the two reached Daenerys’ chambers and walked therein, Ser Barristan and Ser Loras taking up their post at her door whilst their Princesses saw the door shut behind them. “I would have him stay with me, if I could.”
“I can speak with Rhaegar.”
I doubt he’ll prove willing to move him to my chambers, or grant me more hours of the day spent by his side.
Still, Daenerys’ words were kind and offered a semblance of hope.
One that she would readily grasp onto.
“I would be very grateful,” She then looked around the other girl’s chambers. There were a great many dresses scattered around it. Jewellery and other finery were present in abundance too, as was wine and tapestries aplenty; the Targaryens seemed to have a proclivity for hanging banners or art wherever they could. “Do… do you need assistance with whatever it is that saw us here?”
Daenerys had given a small, cute and dimpled-smile when Visenya had given thanks. That look only grew in size and happiness, brightening her already beautiful visage, when she’d posed her question.
“You’d offer aid without knowing what it is I would ask of you?”
Upon hearing the other girl’s question, tinged with amusement as it was, Visenya furrowed her brows, and ceased looking around so that she could focus on her. “I’d not believe you would ask of me anything that’d bring about dishonour, so yes, I would offer my aid where I can. I feel it owed.”
“Family owes nothing but allegiance and love to one another.” Daenerys took up each of her hands, and held them aloft betwixt their persons. Close as they were, and dressed in a similar fashion with their long, flowing hair falling freely, the two had never seemed more sisterly. Daenerys seemed to feel much the same, her eyes full of light and warmth, then playfulness. “And mayhaps the occasional compliment… which, speaking of, my wondrously beautiful sister, could I get your assistance in changing dresses?”
“You wish not to match?”
“I wish for your little wolf to readily tell us apart.”
Visenya wished to challenge such words, but the looking glass that reflected the pair would make her point moot. As many had said, they were as one person by way of looks, from hair, to eyes, to face, to figure; mayhaps not the lattermost quite yet, but with all they’d fed her, she doubted that change would take long to manifest.
Gods, she’d been eating more than she should be.
How might I address him with Daenerys by my side? I would call him brother. He is my brother, if not by blood, by bond… yet such words would prove bothersome to most any other member of House Targaryen.
Will they, her?
“Daenerys?” Visenya would not put words to her thoughts as she walked arm-in-arm with the girl whom she questioned. Not with the Kingsguard that trailed after them, the metal of their armour a constant reminder of their presence, nor with the servants that moved post-haste through those very same halls; all did well to look at the ground and scurry past.
“Visenya?” Daenerys had a cheekiness in her response as she parroted her little niece.
With nary a dozen steps til they reached Rickon’s chambers, she would need speak fast so as to gain whatever insight she could as to her compeer’s thoughts. “You truly mind it not? Joining me, I mean.”
“I love babes.” Daenerys’ tone indicated no falsehood spoken. If any emotions were especially abundant as Visenya made to read her face, they seemed a mixture in equal parts of eagerness and truthfulness.
“Even him?”
Daenerys understood the question, the true question, within the two spoken words.
“Wolf, Lion, Dragon, Kraken, nothing at all — it matters not. A babe is a babe. Innocent, adorable, deserving of love and protection. The same as another,” Daenerys looked away, to Ser Grandfather with the sweetest of smiles worn, whilst Visenya processed her words and the meaning thereof. It was clear, there wasn’t a need for anymore to be said aloud. “Ser Barristan? Might you be so kind?”
“Of course, Princess,” He moved past them with powerful, purpose filled steps, to Rickon’s door. Neither man that guarded it — Targaryen Household Guardsmen as one might expect — so much as had their eyes move to the man of the Kingsguard as one strong hand saw it pushed open.
No more words came from the man either, nor any other who shadowed them. He simply took up his post beside the door. She noted that he need not so much as give a look at one of the guards who’d been there before him. They’d simply shifted away, offering up the nearest two spots so that he could pick what he might prefer; that which remained would go to Ser Loras.
But she didn’t get to see which that was.
Daenerys had given her thanks to the good Ser Barristan, and pulled her forth, into Rickon’s rooms.
Once the door closed shut behind them with a firmness the good Ser Barristan saw to, Daenerys spoke once more. She sought not Rickon, not immediately, no, her eyes the same as Visenya’s own, captured the latter’s with a degree of piercing she’d seen not.“You asked if I minded joining you.”
Visenya wished to look away, but Daenerys’ eyes were captivating. She swallowed to aid in ridding that sensation… yet do so, she could not, and so she gave response to her words. “I did.”
“You answered you minded not.”
Again, she said that which she just had. “I did.”
“What of my company here, with Rickon?” Daenerys’ use of his name over ‘pup’ aided in conveying the seriousness of her words. “I would have the truth of it. No pretty words, no demureness nor meekness — just truth. Have I overstepped? Was it wrong of me to press you into taking me along?”
Honesty. Twas a common thing that came with ease in the North, where most every man was honourable and true, and just, yet here it’s a danger.
Daenerys stepped closer, her right side pushing into Visenya’s left. “Your an— gods. ”
“Marna! Dragon!” Rickon had darted out from beneath the bed — his absence from when first they’d entered now making sense — and wrapped his tiny arms around the Princesses skirts; there was nary a thing he could do to reach higher.
“Little brother,” Visenya let out a breath, the tension leaving her body in much the same way it would during a hot bath as her arms swept him up. “I missed you.”
He giggled when she gave him not so much as a second’s chance to respond, her lips pressing incessantly all across his face and across the top of his head.
“How sweet a pup he is,” Daenerys’ eyes flickered betwixt the pair, yet where they halted was on Visenya. Her unanswered question lingered, and before an answer came, even despite Rickon’s eagerness in which he’d called out ‘Dragon’, she seemed ripe with trepidation.
So Marna answered just as she might when Sansa had such looks.
With one hand kept ‘round Rickon as he burrowed into her chest and sought out her warmth, the other took hold of Daenerys, and brought her into the embrace.
She hoped that was answer enough to how welcome she was.
Daenerys stuck out her bottom lip, batted her eyes and pulled the most petulant look that she could. “She gets ‘Sister’, and I naught but ‘Dragon’?” she made a show of rubbing at the same eyes she’d batted. “Oh, how my heart aches — the pup I adore cares not for a great, scaled, beast.”
Rickon’s eyes went wide. Next, they switched from looking at the ‘tearful’ Dragon, to Marna, and then back again. His little mind seemed troubled, mayhaps overwhelmed.
But just as she’d done with the little Lannister boy, his actions came as a surprise.
He reached over from where Marna held him, and with one small, chubby hand, wiped at Daenerys’ eyes with a frown marring his features. She hated seeing him frown, yet the act of kindness, of pure, innocent kindness, made her smile.
Her Rickon was a soul too pure for anywhere save for the North.
“No. Crying’s bad.” Rickon didn’t seem to recognise her jest for what it was; how could he? “Outside?”
Daenerys had swooned just as Marna had upon his words and actions.
And so, she forgot her playful teasing of the boy as she wrapped her arms around the pack of two that stood before her; her warmth and softness joined Marna’s own, and their little wolf giggled as each pressed a series of kisses from all angles. Most any man or boy in the world would call his treatment a gift from all the Gods in the known world.
As for Rickon, he tried to dodge the dozens of kisses poured unto him from the Targaryen girls. He pulled faces, attempted to hide his face in their chests as he switched around time and time again, and all the while giggling like the happiest of babes whilst saying ‘stop’ or ‘ew’ without true meaning behind said words.
Once he was suitably spoiled with affection and the girls had stopped their kisses, content to coo and fawn over him, it was time to make use of what hours remained.
“The yard again, little brother?” Marna ran a hand through those reddish curls, and smiled when his little blue eyes snapped to her violets.
Daenerys, however, saw fit to offer him a second choice. One Marna herself had chosen to avoid. “We could take him to the Godswood and play — nary a Lord or Lady is ever present.”
That came as no great shock. “There’s no love for the Old Gods here.” Old Nan had said after the Andals had cut down very nearly each and every Weirwood, they could neither hear nor see those who kept to them.
The place was heathen, yet that was not enough for them. They had to make a mockery of it all by allowing a ‘Godswood’ sans a Weirwood.
“But there’s love for the pair of you,” Daenerys pressed one last kiss to the top of Rickon’s head, and twirled with all the grace a royal might have, to Visenya’s side. One soft pale hand found another, and then they were off.
Rickon, for his part, was pleased to be stolen away by the pair for his second adventure; were he nervous, were he tired, or were he shy, the answer was all the same.
He’d tuck his face betwixt her breasts, clutch her dress, and close his eyes; with her, he had his sense of safety.
And with him, she had her strength.
The Godswood, it was.
Visenya hated the walk, and the falsehood of the name; there was no true Godswood sans the tree at the centre, carved and crying. It was just an acre of woodland, filled with elms and other woods, with a ‘great’ oak at the centre of it. The view, that of the Blackwater, was little and less compared to that of her chambers’ balcony.
Even Rickon’s could claim it had a more splendid view, but she supposed the relative peace and quiet was welcome. Many a courtier had bowed and whispered, making mutterings of ‘Princess Visenya’ as she passed them by. She supposed they were eager to see her likeness so that they might brag to the other servants or lords and ladies, depending on their stations.
Not one had been bold enough to stop and formally greet her. Mayhaps the King’s words of warning, whispered of as they were, gave caution enough for one to seize when they saw her. Whether that was the case, or were it something else entirely, that gladdened her — she wished not to stop and speak with any that weren’t required of her to do so with. Not least of all when she had Rickon in her grasp for — most — of the trip.
Those last few dozen steps, for the Red Keep was grand as she’d previously seen, Visenya had passed the energetic and awestruck boy to Daenerys. He had seemed a touch hesitant, at first, and then, very intrigued. The ‘dragon’ looked startlingly similar to his sister now, from face to eyes to hair and finally, affection.
Like Visenya, Daenerys showered praise and kisses upon him.
Once they were properly inside the Godswood, deep, and where one might view the Blackwater in as full of view as was given, Visenya gave a look to Ser Loras. He and Ser Barristan were all that need continue for the last few dozen steps ahead.
He conveyed that to the household guard that accompanied them, and saw the dozen men disperse into the general vicinity. Each took up an area that viewed much and more of the woodland, with not one section guarded by less than four eyes.
Ser Loras and Ser Barristan, good knights that they were, halted when the trio had reached the tree — that kept twenty paces between them. Enough to give the Royals their privacy while they doted upon the wolf pup.
Well, when they could.
At the centre as they were, and with a blanket provided by one of the half-dozen servants that’d followed after the guardsmen, Rickon rose the moment they’d laid against the base of the tree. With all the speed she remembered those little legs capable of, he raced in circles around the tree, time and time again.
Whensoever he’d streak past her or Daenerys, each would make to steal a kiss with an agile peck upon his cheek. He was slow enough, just as any boy that was all but a babe would be, and as he continued on, the two Princesses made a game of it.
What a game it was… until he grew too tired to continue.
With a plop, he fell into the softness of Visenya’s lap, and with a gentle push, he burrowed into the flanks of both Princesses; close as the two had been seated, he’d found himself a crevice, and immediately made to exploit it. That nook he’d claimed saw him warmed by the heat of the pair, and contented by the comfort of them.
“I had thought I’d gotten larger with all the food and wine I’m given — he never used to find me so comfortable,” One of her hands found its way to the reddish curls atop his head. Marna had long sinceloved the feel of them around her fingers. She’d enjoyed Arya’s hair too, but the girl had grown fierce, enough so that she desired not so much as a soul to brush her hair or dress her up.
Yet Rickon, she could bathe, feed, dress, take on escapades wherever her fancy struck her; if only for him, she would make the most of her title.
Until she was forced to marry, sent away to some lord and sequestered in some castle. Gods, she couldn’t wait for some Southron ponce to try and take her. She’d see him gelded and his line destroyed lest it was her desire to bear him children.
I wish any Lord luck.
“You were… thin, I hear tell when first you were seen. Even now, you’re more akin to Viserys than Rhaegar or myself.” Daenerys did a little gesture down herself. With wide hips, and a certain plumpness, she seemed ready for childbearing; Rhaenys had a similar shape, and that same readiness. “Rhaegar was thin too — pretty, many had called him in boyhood. He’s turned more mannish from the earliest days which I placed my eyes upon him. Aegon will likely follow in his steps, just as you’ve begun to do.”
“Mayhaps.” Marna took a breath, deep and content, and with the scent of nature filling her nostrils. Nature, seawater, and the lingering, permanent, stench of King’s Landing itself. No matter what one did, it was always there. “Should we start back soon? We’ll need tuck Rickon into bed before we might ready ourselves for our evening’s battle.”
Daenerys’ eyes had sought out the boy when first her words had made mention of him. In that crevice as he was, the warmth and the comfort the two provided seemed to have lulled him to see most expeditiously.
Then, after that look she’d sent Rickon, confusion had come to mar her beautiful features as her eyes sought out Visenya. “Battle?”
“Our meal. With the—” Visenya lowered her voice further, Rhaenys’ words of warning still fresh in her mind. “— Weeds. ”
“Battle is… an amusing yet apt word for it.” Slowly, Daenerys nodded. Little dimples that aided to her youthfulness formed not a second later, as her lips spread and she raised a hand to contain a little burst of giggles. “Yes, very apt, and very true. We’ll need see him placed in his bed with orders to have him fed, watered and bathe—”
“I’ll return to his chambers post-meal. Another needn’t wash or dress him, and I doubt any servant in all of the Red Keep could manage putting him to bed. Tully as he might look, his wolf’s blood runs thick.”
Daenerys gave a quiet laugh at such words as she and Visenya rose as one. Each supported the napping boy betwixt them lest he fall to the dew-covered grass and thick roots they’d rested atop.
“Elia’s tale gives credence to your words.”
With Rickon firmly in Daenerys’ arms now that the two were fully risen, and wrapped up tight in the blanket as she herself did when she carried him, Visenya shot a curious glance at her ‘sister.’ Immediately after it, she began to worry her hands behind her back; she recognised not how it might make her chest look to those they passed by, but that’d come back to prove bothersome.
“You’ve not heard it?” Daenerys leaned in close, so that she could place one pale hand on the paler skin of Visenya’s forearm. “The first nursemaid that made to pick him up when time came to leave, he bit. I hear he drew blood.”
Why wasn’t I told? Did they mean to keep it from me, or was it lost in their elation?
“Little wolf was a wise choice of name.”
It took little effort to raise her nearer hand so as to touch Rickon’s head. She’d halted as they crossed the threshold that’d see them out from the Godswood, worried of waking him, but when the many men in their thick armour began to clank around, she did as she desired; if they’d not woken him with their loud steps, a soft hand running through his hair surely wouldn’t give cause to wake.
“I prefer pup,” Daenerys placed a kiss atop his head, and grinned when he scrunched up his face in the midst of his sleep. “He’s much too gentle-natured… with us.”
The pair shared a little giggle as the Godswood came to be at not but their backs, the greenery replaced by the stone buildings and oft-trodden-upon dirt — the silence was gone too, and just like the loss of nature, it was replaced by something Visenya so despised; courtiers.
There were dozens of them milling about the outer courtyard, near to the Grand Hall, Throne Room and Kitchens. It was that triangle of places that saw the vast majority of those present, and welcome as they were, their stares and the words they’d mutter to one another as she strode past, were most unwelcome.
She hoped each and every person she passed with Daenerys by her side could tell as much by the way she held her head high. Those that looked upon her would see she feared them not; never them.
Only the Targaryens gave cause for concern, and in a fashion that left her worrying not for her own physical health… well, that wasn’t entirely true. There was one concern that’d see a very specific portion of herself endangered by Targaryen blood; her blood.
She hated so much as the th—
There was a scuffle ahead that shook her from thought. Visenya heard the laughter and jeering of drunken men, and saw the dirt kick up ahead into a small cloud. It was the most Northern affair she’d yet been witness to. Even more so than the antics of her new Robb and Arya.
Amusement on her face, she turned to Daenerys. Then, a flurry of activity.
Ser Barristan and Ser Loras’ hands went to their pommels, and the men behind them took quick steps that saw them encircled; she wondered why they reacted so protectively, until she saw one of the men up ahead had pulled a dagger on one of his compeer’s. She thought it might escalate, that blood might be shed so near to her Rickon, but then the drunken fools shared loud, care-free laughter.
She thought them so incredibly bold until Daenerys spoke. “Prince Quentyn and his cohorts. The one near to him, tall and light-brown of hair, is especially… randy. Ser Cletus Yronwood, his name is.”
Visenya wrinkled her nose. She did so hate those that were promiscuous. Bastardry was a sin. She thought it was one she’d been born of, and mayhaps, in a way, it was, but she was Visenya Targaryen all the same.
“Are they oft drunk so early into the evening?” The men she’d already come to look down upon grew nearer, and her, closer to Daenerys’ side.
As for their escorts, after what lay before them resolved naturally, they’d fallen back into their previous positions with nary a word said. Think what she might of the men, they seemed as well-trained and disciplined as those in the North had, albeit sans a personality or likeability.
Ser Loras and Ser Grandfather are the only exceptions. Thank the Gods they’re the ones I most oft deal with.
“The Dornishmen enjoy their wine, and Prince Quentyn’s title as well as the sway of House Martell with the Crown provides them with no small sense of security.” Daenerys brushed back errant curls from Rickon’s face. He’d scrunched up his nose prior to her doing so, one of those aforementioned curls seemingly tickling him on account of her steps and where his head lay atop her chest.
“How queer.” She wrinkled her nose. “Lady Catelyn and Uncle Ned seldom drank so early, and when they did, never did they act in such a way. Not least of all where they might be seen.”
Dany laughed in that manner that sounded so musical. “Hardly a rarity in King’s Landing. Even Rhaenys or Elia drink from mid-day on, though neither as much as those boys.”
“Only enough to be smiling throughout the entirety of the day,” Visenya was well-familiar with it by now. “Do you—” the drunken men were nearer still, and loud enough that she had to pause for a moment due to the interruption their annoying, boisterous laughter made for. “—mind coming to my chambers after the Tyrell dinner? I… would ask of you something.”
Empathetic and kind of heart as she was, Daenerys picked up on the worrisome undercurrent in Visenya’s voice. It’d leaked in despite her desire to keep it hidden; she was so very tired of appearing weak in-front of her second sister.
Still, she did have good reason to be concerned.
“I’d come even were it in the dead of night. Anything you would ask of me. I swear it,” Daenerys leaned into her then, resting her head atop Visenya’s shoulders just as Rickon’s had fallen into the valley of her breasts, propped up and mostly concealed by way of that blanket wrapped around him. “Is it… sensitive?”
“Yes.” That simple answer would suffice. “It relat—”
“Princess Daenerys! Princess Visenya!” One of the drunken men — the Yronwood she’d been warned about if she remembered correctly — had come to a staggering stop before them. He was a good half-dozen paces away when he paused for his bow, and one closer when he made to rise, and nearly fell over. “Word travelled about your beauty, Princess Visenya. Might I say, they don’t do you any justice at all, nor you, Princess Daenerys”
“Cletus, come along,” Prince Quentyn grabbed at the other man’s arm, and pulled. Even still, he took his own look at the pair of Targaryen Princesses; one that quickly fell from face to chest, then lower still before it snapped up, that drunken flush showcased all the more so when he smiled. “Princesses — my friend, he is forward. I will have words with him later.”
Daenerys opened her mouth intending to respond, but the ‘forward friend’ of Prince Quentyn, a boy she’d not so much as formally met thus far, spoke first. “I would have either of you as my betrothed, Princesses. We of Dorne are known for our passion.”
“We hear oft and loudly about that, Ser, thank you.” Daenerys pulled on Visenya’s arm, and made to walk around the man as Quentyn pulled on his arm.
Visenya didn’t so much as regard him. As soon as he spoke so brazenly, so foolishly, she’d sought out Rickon’s head, and Daenerys’ face. Each would keep her calm, and stop her from saying anything that might bring trouble to House Targaryen; if they were happy, mayhaps all would be well for the Starks, and no further concessions might be demanded.
Moat Cailin rebuilt and kept as the home of a Targaryen… Rickon in King’s Landing… the reaffirmation of fealty upon Aegon and Rhaenys’ wedding by way of Robb, it was already quite steep a price to pa—
Quick as could be, she stopped and pulled Daenerys as well as Rickon to her chest as the same drunken fool blocked their path. He was red of face, embarrassed, mayhaps, or angry that neither had responded as he thought they should; he reached out a hand, towards Visenya’s wrist that was closer to his person.
“Princ—”
He was pushed back at the same time the tell-tale sound of a sword coming free of its sheath sounded. “Touch the Princess, and you lose your hand.”
Ser Loras’ boyish voice and the steel he’d bared were of the same hardness. They’d also done much to draw the attention of those nearby; whosoever hadn’t been watching them before, be the person servant or noble, now was.
“Princes Daenerys, please, excuse him ,” Quentyn gave a yank of his friends arm, and as a result, saw Ser Yronwood pulled away. The drunk, randy boy stumbled again, ramming into the chest of his companions as a battering ram might.
He was far enough for Ser Loras to return sword to scabbard, but close enough for Cletus’ remark, drunk-whispered as it was meant to be, heard by all those in the immediate vicinity.
“Frigid wolf bitch.” He spun upon the dirt after he’d regained his footing, his friends laughing and jeering at him, and then that was that.
Or so she had wished to be the case, even despite the blatant, stupid disrespect he’d shown her, there was an inkling within her that desired not to rise to the occasion.
But her own wolf’s blood came to the surface at the Dornish man’s antagonisation, disregarding any notion of temperance.
“Repeat your words, Ser,” Visenya’s tone was low as his whisper had been, but with an intensity every word spoken thus far had lacked. When he failed to do as she’d ordered, she raised her nose and stood tall as she could; it saw her up to but his chest, but men stepped forth on either side of her — Ser Loras and her household guardsmen, so she commanded the fool. “I said repeat your words, craven.”
“Princess, my fri—” Prince Quentyn tried to intercede, Daenerys spoke over him.
“Visenya gave a command to your compeer, Quentyn. I would see it followed.” Daenerys’ regal tone of authority was far better than her own. It sounded as Aegon’s voice of mocking had when he’d put an accent on to sound as most thought they might, only dangerous and real.
“Princess… I— you have to forgive—” the man, Ser Cletus, hiccupped. It seemed as if the grievous offence he’d given had finally cut through the haze the alcohol had set upon him. “— me. Please! Quentyn, tell h—”
Visenya raised a hand, desiring him to stop his incessant rambling and slurred speech. He reeked of alcohol and sweat, and the musk of men. The whole of their group did, even ‘Prince’ Quentyn. It made her wrinkle her nose even as onlookers began to gather ‘round their groups; she cared not if they thought her beauty marred by wrath or indifference.
“You’ll go to the courtyard on the morrow at first light. Prepared for a spar. I should hope you don’t lose, Ser. ” Visenya already knew that he would. Most any man would be taken completely off-guard by her, and those of the South, few would dare strike at a Targaryen Princess. “If you fail to show—” she cast a quick look Rickon’s way to ensure he was still fast asleep from all the running around he’d done. When she saw that he was, she completed her sentence in both meanings. “—I’ll have your tongue.”
Prince Quentyn seemed to take umbrage at that, yet he wisely chose to keep tongue in cheek.
No doubt Elia or Rhaegar would seek her out in the evening, after the dinner with the Tyrells in the hopes of getting her to change her mind. They’d not succeed in doing so.
“Thank you, Princess,” Quentyn finally dipped his head, seeing that she had nothing more to say. His eyes flickered betwixt her, Daenerys, Rickon, and the dozen plus men at their backs; she hated how his eyes took in their beauty even despite the challenge and dressing down given, but she hated more how he peered at Rickon.
If he so much as thought about spending time with her pup to use him as a pawn, she’d have him gelded, his tongue cut-out and what remained of him, sent to the wall. She needed no men of his quality around her boy.
“Off with you,” Ser Loras gestured to the Throne Room, where Father and Mother were likely holding court.
Visenya cared not to glance at the gaggle of worried-looking men as they moved away, nor those beyond them, the many ladies, lords and their heirs that’d gathered for the spectacle — truly, twas only the servants that’d continued about their business. Meek, reliable, and quick to leave the Nobles or Royals to their own affairs… they seemed the most honourable of them all; that was deserving of reward.
“Ser Loras?” She spoke loudly, enough so for those onlookers to hear her. When he looked at her, she fixed him with a smile at the same time she plucked Rickon from Daenerys’ grasp; her arms were growing tired. “Have orders sent to the Kitchens. I desire all servants eat and drink their fill before most return to their families — tell them they can bring food back with them too, if they so desire.”
Like Lord Stark, she would see those in the household, be they guard, kitchen wench, kennelmaster, stableboy or beyond, properly cared for. It was they who did so on a near daily basis, and what thankless work theirs was; sequestered away in a tower for much and more of the day as she’d been, she’d learned the habits of those that kept Winterfell running.
There was a murmuring that shook her free of her fond reminiscence.
It came from Noble and servant alike, but whilst the former whispered in hushed, hurried tones, the latter grew louder until words were readily distinguishable.
“Thank you, Princess!”
“Seven blessings to Princess Visenya!”
“Thank the Gods for the good Princess!”
Those calls from what seemed to be a legion of servants around her brought forth a queer feeling. One she’d felt when she’d bitten back at the rabble who’d dared to block her path and further, speak such words; was this power?
She’d felt it with the Knights as well. Men hurried to do as she requested, men feared her, and yet, these smallfolk loved her. Few in number as they were in the grand scheme of things, it brought her a feeling of happiness and reassurance.
And so with the good, young Ser Loras relaying her words to a nearby servant despite how loudly she’d spoken, and that feeling in her belly only growing, Visenya started the Royal party off — Ser Barristan was at their heels, and until Ser Loras rejoined them, it was but him as their guard… him, and the dozen or so men in the red and black of House Targaryen.
Visenya had yet to fancy their presence. It made her feel the part of a prisoner despite the vow from each and every Targaryen she’d asked, that their numbers were only so great for the sake of protection.
We’d not need protecting if I was given daggers or a sword to carry. I can cut down a man with more than prettily-said words.
Ah well, come the morrow, she supposed she would have her first bout with a Southron ponce if he kept to her order.
A Knight from Dorne; randy, ‘passionate’, and most certainly, simple. How fun it’d be.
If only Robb and Arya were able to bear witness.
I’ll write them. Neither gods nor men will stop me from doing so.
Chapter 11: Dinner with the Flowers
Notes:
Here we are with Part 11, and as a note, up to chapter 30 is written and being edited with 31 receiving progress; I do plan on updating roughly every two weeks henceforth as well, now that I've built up and gone through much of these chapters for edits. I'd changed my mind a fair few times.
Wishing you all the best, thank you for the lovely comments, and have a great rest of your March!
Chapter Text
Daenerys ran a hand down the back of her neck. “Softer than our silken sheets.” She repeated her action again… and then thrice over, and then so it continued. “I fear until you have me removed from your chambers, I’ll be petting you as Rhaenys pets Balerion.”
“I’ll allow you your touches. Rickon seems to find them magical, if the speed at which he falls asleep once you begin to rub him is anything to go by,” Visenya minded them not, in truth. Daenerys was gentle and considerate, and certainly pushed no boundaries as others might.
Beyond that, the touch was soothing as she simmered in her thought of what’d occurred earlier. Were Father present, either of them, she imagined she’d receive quite the dressing down — she had called the man craven, and ordered him to the courtyard on the morrow, lest he lose his tongue
A step too far, mayhaps… but a sacrifice had need be made. For too long, she’d contained all that which she worried the Targaryens would take offence to; she needed to remove all stress, and sans horseback riding or archery, there was little to do just that.
“Do you think he’ll show?” Visenya knew Daenerys would know far more of the drunken man’s reputation than she might. He was a friend of Quentyn Martell, and with the family so closely tied to the Crown, Daenerys would have heard of him at the very least.
As for what she’d seen, she imagined the boy’s companions to be a multitude of Theon; how horrible it’d be to spend the day around them.
“He’s a knight. Young and hardly battle-tested. I imagine he’s had more time spent deep in his cups than fighting any real foes — yet still, a knight will seldom back down from a challenge even despite the many fallacies he might have,” Daenerys stopped her errant brushing, and slid into the space beside Visenya. Her arms snuck around her waist and pulled her close. “You know you’ll not fight him. Don’t you?”
A sigh slipped from Visenya following those words from Daenerys. “Who else would teach him honour, if not I, the person he insulted?”
“Ser Loras. Was it not he who took sword from sheath when Ser Cletus tried to grab your wrist?” Daenerys swooned after saying what she did. “How gallant a knight, Ser Loras is. Sweet and boyish, and just as green as Ser Cletus, Elia or Mother would claim.”
“Ser Loras needn’t stand for me.” Why would he? In the North, she’d seen Robb put on his arse a fair few times. What difference was a small, insignificant Dornish knight when she was a Targaryen Princess ? “Aegon and Rhaenys already desire a spar with me. This would serve as good practice.”
“Aegon and Rhaenys would be allowed by Rhaegar. As would whichever Kingsguard that teaches you — others would require permission be granted.” Daenerys said those words with a wave of her hand and a look that said that should be obvious. “Ser Cletus, others that you come to find disgruntlement with for good reason, they would receive their ‘lessons’ by way of another… but I don’t believe you’ll need choose who that’ll be this time around.”
That didn’t sit right with Visenya. Lord Stark had taught to all, even her, that they who give out the punishment, deal it. How could she expect another to fight for her, even Ser Loras, who’d been present?
“They’ll make Ser Loras my Champion?” Desiring as she might to rise from where she was seated as a flash of annoyance stabbed through her, she stayed seated. Daenerys’ presence aided in suppressing the annoyance she felt at her justice being taken from her just as much as the sparring yard was.
Gods, how she wished to be on its dirt rather than simply viewing it from high above, in a gallery for women and those unable to do battle of any kind. Instead, she’d have to bear wit—
“I have no doubt Ser Loras would volunteer, but his bid would be overridden by that of another. One whom I think you already know,” Daenerys seemed amused as Visenya’s nose wrinkled; the insinuation of the former put together by the latter.
“Aegon? So quickly?”
Daenerys reached one slight hand pale as Visenya’s own, and flicked — very lightly — the tip of her nose as one might a poorly-behaving hound. Her little aunt seemed to see her dislike of the feeling. “Aegon and Rhaenys hate it too.” Those words were said with an adorable little troublemaking smirk. “And for good reason. I only do it when I need express disappointment — come, sister, you should know any happening with a Martell will reach your siblings’ ears before the hour of the wolf arrives that same night.”
“He would punish a bannerman loyal to his kin… for my sake?” Visenya doubted that. It must’ve shown on her expression too, given the grimace it’d caused. “Did you think me cruel, when I demanded he show up to the sparring yard on the morrow’s morn?”
“The tongue comment might have been a step too far, but he was wrong to make to touch you, and simple in mind to offer insults. Drunk or not, that cohort of Quentyn’s will likely be returning to Dorne upon the ending of this happenstance,” Daenerys’ words hung in the air for nary a few seconds’ time before she let loose a little giggle.
One that grew and grew, until it was full blown laughter.
And so that begged a question from Visenya. “What?” It was asked with a wide smile on her face, Daenerys’ laughter infectious and sweet-sounding as Rickon’s or Arya’s.
“I was thinking of how pleased I’ll be to no longer see that lazy eye of his leering at court. So many women thought him gallant and dashing, but all I could see whensoever he’d look at me was one eye wandering.” Daenerys managed her explanation through giggles that gave minor pause here and there.
“I’d thought his gaze stranger than most.” Visenya mused aloud, her head slowly nodding as realisation dawned upon her as to the why-for. “You called him randy too. It seems a randy, drunken, queer-sort of knight being sent home is a blessing.”
“A blessing indeed. Mayhaps this will be cause for Quentyn and the other boys he keeps around to behave better as well. So oft they’re drunk and without order or manners. Elia resolves the issues they cause as they arise, but Rhaenys and Aegon do serve to enable them — I imagine that’ll soon come to an end,” Daenerys prodded her then, totally switching course back to that which they’d made mention of earlier. “When time comes for you to spar with your siblings, have word sent to me if I’m not already by your side. I would be there to watch my fearsome twin.”
Visenya gave a dutiful bow of her head. “I’ll not forget you — who else but you could serve as witness to my first victory over each?”
“A fair point.”
They shared a smile with one another, conspiratorial, and sweet as the one’s each would send Rickon’s way.
“Would you mind if I ready myself alongside you this eve?” Daenerys gave a little nod to the looking glass near to their finery and perfumes. “I had thought Rhaenys and Aegon might be finished in-time to offer some degree of assistance to you, but it seems Rhaegar’s kept them.”
“Who would aid you, if not I or Rhaenys?” Visenya hoped it wasn’t a team of servants or lesser nobility. Normal as most claimed it to be, she had never been fond of allowing others to dress her. Not when it’d see their hands glide across her body, or worse, their eyes.
Daenerys stilled, and allowed a small, fond smile to come to her face. “Mother normally does. I spend much and more of my time on Dragonstone with her and Nuncle Aemon. My be—” One petite little hand shot up and covered her mouth, her eyes flickering from door to wall, to Visenya. “—I shan’t speak very loudly. Private as our chambers are, one can never know if a rat scurries within the walls, and what I say next isn’t announced, only rumours speak of it.”
That made Visenya blink, and when she spoke, her tone was but a whisper. One so quiet, the howling wind of the North, high in her tower, would have never seen them heard. “What is it? Are you well?”
There was a current of worry that ran through her.
Daenerys’ little smile saw those worries put to rest not a second after they’d arrived. “You needn’t worry. I just mean to offer words of warning, and to stress that this news can’t be shared,” she leaned in closer, and began to twirl long strands of Visenya’s hair around one finger; twas a soothing touch that accompanied her latter words. “I’m to wed Lucerys Velaryon’s son, Monford. Tis the reason I spend so much time on Dragonstone with Mother and our Uncle.”
“Oh.”
What else was Visenya to say to that?
Whatever the answer might be to her self-posed question, it needn’t come, for a knock sounded upon the door.
“Sweet girls~” Elia sang the words, and let the beautiful tone she did so with hang in the air.
One silver-haired Princess looked at the other, and then, Daenerys snickered.
“I should mention, when Mother isn’t here to help me, Elia always makes to fill the void,” Daenerys rose to seek out the door, taking Visenya with her. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Visenya shook her head, those many errant strands of hair that Dany had played with tickling her neck in doing so. “Not at all. I’m… very fond of her.”
She’s as much a mother to me as I am to Rickon.
Visenya shouldn’t have been surprised by where she found herself seated; Aegon was on her left, in the space nearest to Father, whilst Rhaenys was to her right. She knew by now the King and Queen desired she stay as near to her siblings as possible, at all hours of the day, from first light to the hour of the wolf.
As of late, that realisation brought with it no small amount of trouble, for she no longer felt half as at-ease around Rhaenys as she previously had. Not with more and more happenings as of late pointing towards an end goal she dare not think about.
So she looked further down the half-empty table.
Viserys wasn’t in attendance, but Daenerys was, and she’d taken up her usual spot to the right of Rhaenys. As always, her twin was a vision of beauty, worthy of song and poem. Others might say they were alike, but next to Daenerys, she knew she’d be found lacking. Any would be.
“Sweet ‘Senya?”
Elia’s voice put a stop to her wandering eyes, and saw her attention focused at the head of the table, where King and Queen sat hand-in-hand.
“Yes, Mother?” Visenya cast a quick glance at her dress, then her hands. Each looked proper and lady-like, and so her eyes sought out the Queen again.
“Would it please you to have Rickon sup with us on the morrow? I’d have included him this evening, but I heard from your twin that you and she plan to spoil the little pup once this dinner concludes,” Elia’s eyes flickered to Daenerys before they returned to Visenya, and thereupon, a beaming smile was given. There seemed a series of thoughts behind those kind, intelligent eyes.
Whatever they were, they’d go unknown as she turned them — momentarily — to share a look and whispered words with Father, who seemed… especially, strangely, pleased.
Visenya shook her head and gave answer to Elia’s question after swallowing down a queer tightening of her throat. As she opened her mouth to speak, the wetness of wine on her lips making a faint noise, the woman’s eyes returned to her. “That would please me very much.” she tried to keep the eagerness from showing too strong. “Thank you, Mother. Truly… if… if you so desire, you could join Daenerys and I this night.”
Elia shared another look with Rhaegar, then the pair turned to fix her with a smile. As they’d oft looked since her arrival, the pair seemed content. At peace, mayhaps, or resolute. She knew not.
“I’ll leave this night to you and our sweet Dany — and how else might I spend more time around a babe?” Elia sent a mock glare Aegon and Rhaenys’ way; light-hearted and jesting as it was, Visenya couldn’t help the bit of bile that rose in her throat upon hearing Elia’s next words. “My children are yet to be wed, and so I feared I’d be left to grow old with no child to dote upon—” her next words sounded pointed “—lest something changes come soon.”
Rhaegar leaned forward, and plain as day, shook his head once at Elia. Nary a word was said to her in regards to whatever it was she’d prodded at, but not so much as one was required for his point to get across.
Instead, with a regal, fatherly smile that was warm as any Elia had sent her, Rhaegar addressed her. “Our servants sang your praise today, daughter.”
Elia snorted. “And my little nephew Quentyn already thinks of her to be as her namesake. To think the boy had wanted Oberyn to ask for her hand — well, Doran, but little Oby would be the messenger.”
Aegon and Rhaenys spoke up as one, the conversation they’d been having with one another totally forgotten as their attention snapped to the little sister sitting betwixt them.
“No.”
“Such was the answer your father gave.” Elia said the words with a smile sent Visenya’s way; mayhaps she desired to put to ease any worries she felt on the matter of marriage.
Thankful as she might be for not having to take Quentyn to be her husband, the words did little to wash away the worry that’d only risen from when first she’d known them. If not Quentyn, or another she’d yet to hear mention of, who was she to wed? Did Elia and Rhaegar wish to wait until her sixteenth nameday to bring forth said subject? Or would they wait until they thought her acclimated?
If only I hadn’t flowered. Were I younger, I’d have more time to figure out my future.
“Curious, sweet girl?” Elia’s words cut through her many self-posed questions, and made her raise her eyes back to the woman; to her mother. There was a teasing little smile on her face, but one that was full-up with levity.
Visenya cast her eyes back to her plate, and it was looking thereat that she nodded. Demure and sweet it might seem, but in truth, she simply desired not to see what visage Elia would wear when her answer would be given — what if she thought a match might please her, but in truth, it made her sick?
What if the worst comes to pass?
“Your father and I won’t force you to wed a stranger. Not when you’re six and ten, not when you’re eight and ten, nor any year past. You’ll certainly not be sent off to a keep or castle unfamiliar to you,” Elia let out a little sigh. One that seemed to have the weight of the world bearing down on her… ‘til she leaned back and took an audible sip of wine; her next words followed said drink. “In truth, you will be kept close to home. Your father and I swear it.”
“Close to home,” Rhaegar, oft distant, affirmed the words of Elia. He leaned forth, wrapped an arm around her shoulder — much to her visual happiness — and fixed his eyes on Visenya. His gaze caught hers as easily as a ship in the midst of a great storm. Those eyes of his were one in the same to her own, and yet, in his was a strangeness. “You, Aegon, Rhaenys. I would keep my children close.”
“We’re the th—” Aegon had said nary two words before Father cut him off with words that saw her confusion increased… especially on account of how proud her brother had seemed when speaking.
“Later, Aegon. Your little sister has still yet to attend her first Valyrian lesson. We needn’t bother her with other, more detailed and focused matters so early,” Father’s tone was gentle, almost pacifying, as he looked at her brother. Then there was a look of mischief not unlike the one she’d occasionally see Elia pull, or oft, in the case of Rhaenys. “I hear you’ve begun to adjust, daughter — holding your own mini-tourney in the sparring yard and challenging a knight to one therein on the morrow’s morn.”
Elia spoke up as Rhaegar puffed out his chest; he seemed bursting with pride, and that look on his face, that pleasant smile, had grown. “You should have seen him when he heard the news from little Quentyn.”
“He came to us too, mama,” Rhaenys said, speaking up. “In his own words, he pleaded — ‘please, cousins, talk sense into your sister. Cletus didn’t mean insult with his words, he was drunk. We’d been in a brot—”
“That’s where the tale ended.” Aegon cut Rhaenys off, which earned him a pout from his sister-betrothed… and a giggle from Daenerys.
Visenya wasn’t a fool. She knew what Rhaenys had meant to say, and if she hadn’t gotten the first portion of the word out, the deduction wouldn’t have been challenging to make. Dornish were notorious for their ‘passion’ as the bold ser had called it; lust was the better word for it.
“Father?” Daenerys’ words from earlier would be put to the test. Visenya would make certain of that.
“What is it, my sweet?” Rhaegar’s eyes went to her as he leaned back in his seat at the behest of Elia, who had a bundle of grapes held in one hand.
“Will I be allowed my spar?” Visenya made sure to bat her eyes, and look up from beneath the long lashes thereover.
It didn’t work.
“No,” Rhaegar held up a hand, one that meant both to curtail further words from his youngest, and to halt his love from dropping another grape into his mouth. “In your place will be another. For many a reason, I could not see it sanctioned.”
Visenya didn’t fight to keep the disappointment from showing. “I see.” With downturned lips, she pushed around the meat atop her plate, a distinct lack of interest and hunger now taking hold. Lord Stark would have allowed her to restore her own honour if she were the one who’d demanded it. “Who?” Curiosity got the better of her, even if she expected she knew the answer; Aegon, as Daenerys had proclaimed.
“I nearly had to duel Ser Loras and Ser Jaime for the honour,” Aegon, as she’d thought, said from her side, and with a snicker. “You’ve impressed the former more so than either I or Rhaenys have, it’d seem.”
“And Ser Jaime would not pass up the chance to beat a Dornishman.” Rhaenys found that amusing despite her blood, based on the little giggle she gave. What followed the giggle was her leaning into Visenya’s side, and turning her head towards Aegon with a gentle hand pushing at her chin; her words that came thereafter were said in a tone sweet as any dessert she’d yet had in the capital. “But our dear brother desired the chance to take your place in the ‘friendly’ spar as it’ll be called. He’s wished to see Ser Cletus put in the mud on many an occasion, and the offence he offered to you worked well enough as an excuse.”
“I should hope to have your fav—”
Aegon’s words were soon interrupted by the arrival of the Tyrells.
That worked for Visenya. There was little desire to hear him finish his sentence, and even that left her annoyed, albeit with herself more so than with him; Aegon had been good and kind, if queer in how he’d dealt with her. She wished not to feel uncomfortable when he was near to her person, nor Rhaenys… but by the Gods, the two didn’t make it easy as of late.
“Father was ever so happy to hear another member of House Targaryen had been found. I swear it — he cheered and ordered a toast at our table when news of the healthy and beautiful ‘Princess Visenya Targaryen’ reached it.” Lady Margaery’s eyes, which oft flickered between the conversing ladies, stayed focused on Visenya for that point in the tale she recollected. They darted away nary a second later, when again words flowed prettily from her mouth. “Willas and Garlan argued over who would make your acquaintance first that very eve, and Father, he was silently convinced it’d be he that’d see the secret Princess first.”
Rhaenys’ hand came to rest upon the softness of Visenya’s nearer thigh as she gave response to Margaery’s words. “Willas won that argument, it would seem, no?” her tone made obvious the fact she was teasing, yet the smile she’d said her words with seemed unconvincing; her next words explained just why that was, and they came as she gave a squeeze of Visenya’s thigh with that aforementioned hand. “I remember how he’d gotten lost in the holdfast only some few nights past — did he make mention of our Visenya then?”
“Only in passing. He was much too embarrassed to recollect the tale.” She cast a look Willas’ way, then lowered her voice as she continued; the visage she wore was one of light-hearted conspiring. “Father was cross with him, and went to the King to apologise as soon as he’d heard. I hope he didn’t cause you too much of an issue, Princess. He’s the sweetest of my brothers, if a bit simple as all boys tend to be.”
“Not our Aegon.” Rhaenys’ hand squeezed her thigh as she said such words. There seemed a smug edge to her tone.
Visenya was lost in the final remark more so than any other. Ser Loras proves sweetest time and time again, there shan’t be another of his likeness.
Margaery dipped her head as a pretty blush appeared on her cheeks. Not a second later, and with her eyes on her hands — folded neatly in her lap as they were — she shook her head. “Not Prince Aegon. How fortunate you are, Princess, to have so wondrous a brother and husband-to-be.”
If the Tyrell rose’s words were meant to be barbed, Rhaenys avoided having blood drawn. “I thank the gods my baby brother was given to me each night during prayer. I wo— ah, speaking of our brothers, it seems they mean to join us upon the balcony,” Rhaenys switched from what next she’d desired to say, to greeting the new arrivals; Willas, Garlan and Aegon with a quintessential Princess smile.
As for Daenerys, she was still with Lord Mace, his lady wife, Mother and Father.
“Sisters, Lady Margaery,” Aegon quickened his pace so as to slide into the free space by Visenya lest another dare try and do as he’d done; even to the aforementioned Visenya, it didn’t go unnoticed that he opted not for Rhaenys’ unoccupied side. “A lovely evening, with lovelier company.”
Willas’ gaze was focused completely and utterly on her, as if she’d used a lust potion Theon oft prattled on about when he spoke to Robb about his less than honourable pursuits; Gods, how she’d despised him and his many attempts to take her to bed. She was so sorely tempted to tell Aegon and Rhaenys of the Greyjoy third son’s efforts, if only to see her dislike of him echoed by the pair.
At least his visit had been short; he’d not seemed fond of the North, and being a third son as he was, he was meant for little more than exploration.
“And fearsome as well from what I hear,” Ser Garlan’s voice, deeper than she’d thought it’d been, was as friendly as Ser Loras’, and as jesting as Rhaenys’. Mayhaps not all the Tyrells were as weed-like as first she’d thought and heard. “You have a reputation not unlike your namesake in less than a full moon’s passing, Princess Visenya — and none are soon to forget your show with the spear, Princess Rhaenys.”
Twice already I’ve heard tell of that, and all on account of what? Demanding a spar? Watching and commanding about knights for the viewing pleasure of her little Rickon?
“The Gods blessed me with two gifted sisters, ‘tis true.” Aegon looked to the pair in turn as he spoke of them, but then, as a gentleman, his eyes sought out Lady Margaery. “Your own is a beauty too, my lords. From smallfolk to noblemen, all from the Reach sing praise of the good Lady Margaery—” Aegon paused to raise his cup, and the sentiment was echoed by the Tyrell men without pause. “—to our sisters.”
“To our sisters.” Willas and Garlan said as one, echoing Aegon’s words just as they mimicked him in raising their glasses to their mouths.
Rhaenys reached a hand across Visenya, and plucked the one of Aegon’s that’d been sitting idly by his side, smushed between his body and Visenya’s own. “It’s exactly as you said, Lady Margaery — how fortunate I am.”
Visenya couldn’t contain the little smirk. Fine as the boys all were with one another, there seemed a tension or resentment betwixt her sister and the Tyrell girl. It wasn’t hard to imagine why. She had a barb about her. One that seemed hidden from all menfolk by a tinge of sweetness; mayhaps it was real and she herself was wrong, but she doubted it.
Why else might Rhaenys trade minorly-antagonistic words or provoke the other girl as she had in such subtle ways?
Margaery giggled as many a courtier had when Visenya passed. It was a Southron noise that Sansa would have loved to master for her future Southron husband.
“Princess Visenya,” The voice was Willas’, and his call for attention came as he slid into the seat directly opposite her own with as much grace as a cripple could muster. With a droplet of red-coloured wine dripping down his sharp chin, one that was quickly dabbed up with a rose-covered handkerchief, he addressed her properly for the first time since he’d laid eyes upon her person; he had on him one of the widest smiles she’d ever seen. One would almost think him enthralled based on the look he wore. “I would offer apologies for happening upon you so early in your arrival, but, might I be so bold as to say you’re worthy of the divine status attributed to Valyrians? Many in the world would worship you at but a glance.”
“ Willas, ” Margaery raised a hand to her mouth.
“Many in the Red Keep already seem to,” Ser Garlan said, nodding his head after his sister’s surprised utterance of their brother’s name. “They’d eaten their fill of the food provided most oft for Lords and Ladies at your behest, Princess, and with permission to bring home what they desire to their families many did. I doubt they’ll soon forget such kindness.”
“Our sister is most charitable and good, and as you’d said, fearsome,” Aegon turned to face her when he’d said such words, and the face he wore was kind, sweet, even. “We’re pleased to have her back with us. Our Visenya.”
“Very pleased,” Rhaenys ran a finger through her hair, and matched the look that Aegon had sent her. Neither was bothered by their open affection towards her before the Tyrells; such was the problem she’d made mention of twice over. Rhaenys’ fingers stopped, abrupt in their halting, and she let out a breathy laugh. “Forgive us. Aegon and I lose ourselves when she’s nearby — Lord Willas’ words of her ring true. Speaking of words, your father, Lord Mace, said a great many kind ones over supper. We’re very grateful to House Tyrell for its unwavering loyalty.”
Aegon picked up where Rhaenys had left off, the two working very well with one another even as they gave Visenya an errant stroke or pet. “Thankful enough that we’re willing to part with a secret to be announced in a sennight’s time, so long as word won’t leak as the walls of Harrenhall or Castamere do.”
“None here will spread around what you share with us. You have my word, my Prince.” Willas, the eldest of the Tyrell Roses in full bloom, said with a firm nod of his head. One that brought a reminiscent smile to her face; Robb would do the same on occasion.
With a pleased and polite dip in return, Aegon leaned in, and spoke in a hush only loud enough for the six present to hear… mayhaps nine, if one counted — and they were able to hear — the three silver-armoured, white-cloaked shadows only some few paces away.
“I have it on good authority Lady Margaery will wed our Uncle Viserys, Lord of Moat Cailin and Keeper to the North. Your father and our own have begun preparations for grain, seeds, earth and men to be moved thereto in preparation for the move.” Aegon raised his glass as he leaned back, pulling Visenya, and by extension, Rhaenys along with him. Reclined and with a genuinely pleased look, he gave toast to the Tyrell girl. “To the future Princess Margaery, may our uncle prove worthy of you.”
Visenya was pleased to do much the same, reaching forward for her own glass of wine — ignored as it’d been — and handing Rhaenys hers. The little action, one she’d do for any member of either family, rewarded her with a beaming smile and kiss on the cheek that lingered longer than most.
Thankfully, all were in their cups and drinking, and thereafter, the boys made to speak of the tourney. Interested as she might be, with Lady Margaery present, Visenya wished not to show such intrigue. What last she needed was the Northern Princess that’d challenged a knight and watched many a spar for amusement show eagerness to see bloodshed and combat.
Although, to be thought of as my namesake has a certain appeal. Was she not feared?
“Prince Aegon, might I steal away the Princess Visenya for a moment?” Willas’ voice was soft as any man’s ever seemed to be. Purposefully so, given she’d heard him speak before, and it’d been far deeper then.
Aegon had a frown flash across his face upon Willas’ words. One that’d come and gone so quickly, she had to wonder if she’d truly seen it at all. “Not at all, my lord. I only ask that you don’t do so for long. My sister has plans for this eve with our aunt.”
Willas gave a nod of his head, and uttered "Of course, my prince.” Then he took a few steps towards her in that odd gait; he’d had an accident, she thought she’d heard. One that oft saw him walk with a cane — he stopped a foot from her, and held out a hand in offer of assistance. “Princess.”
There was no desire to take up the strange man’s hand and rise from the spot betwixt her siblings. Queer as their feelings towards her might be — their mannerisms and actions as well — she knew them. With Rhaenys, there was a closeness. A genuine affection and warmth.
Aegon had a similar enough feel to him.
But this man, Willas, had no feelings of safety attached to him. He was unknown to her, or all but; what most she knew of him was that it was he that’d gotten lost and ‘happened’ upon her. Still, she knew what he and his family desired. Aegon’s quick flash of displeasure made certain to her that he knew too; Rhaenys had to if they did, given that she was eldest amongst them.
How bold, House Tyrell was. They’d gotten Viserys, a Prince, and now they wanted her for their own? Her, a Targaryen Princess .
Visenya, after a few seconds’ time, took the hand of Willas with that in her mind. As soon as she was upon her feet, rather than loop her arm through his as most might, she stepped a pace to his flank, and looked upon him with one brow raised. She’d not scorned him by pushing away his offered hand, but there’d be no walking arm-in-arm, not with the thinness of dress and the warmth of wine in their bellies.
Willas’ visage morphed to one of perplexion. It was as if her declining his arm wasn’t in the realm of possibilities, and yet, it’d just happened; mayhaps he thought this a slight for his… his voyeurism. It wasn’t. Truly.
He began to walk again in that odd gait, his steps taking him further along the balcony, and so she matched them. Cold as she might be considered by behaviour and dress, she would still be polite and not speed past him.
A dozen steps away, and keenly aware that she remained under the watchful gazes of her siblings, she addressed this Willas Tyrell that’d tried to make her swoon. “Lord Willas,” her voice she tried to liken to Daenerys, given how close theirs already were — it was a good attempt she thought, but cold, and distinctly off on account of that Northern lilt. “What might you desire of me, my lord?”
As he’d been earlier, the man that stood near to her seemed perplexed. It was obvious by way of his expression, ‘til that shifted some second or so later… and into something she’d not thought.
Amusement.
“Forgive me, Princess, but you’re not at all what one might expect a Princess of House Targaryen to be,” Willas gave her a smile after such words were said, and then he spoke again. “Mayhaps that means I’m the fool and not those others I oft criticised when I overheard conversation about your revelation — my Grandmother would love you.”
Visenya had heard more of that woman — Olenna Tyrell, or the Queen of Thorns as many called her — half a hundred times, at least. It’d been stressed to her that, should she appear, Visenya steer clear and make for Rhaenys or Elia’s side.
“Hearing that gladdens me. All know of her quality, my lord,” Visenya took a half-step away from him, and wrapped one slender, pale hand around the ledge. The look in his eyes had been respectful, but even still, the true nature of his infatuation with her made any interest in him fleeting as the light in the sky. “And your request?”
Those final few words were said as her eyes sank to the water nearest to her, before the view was cut off by the walls surrounding the Red Keep. How simple the lives those that swam or fished in it must live; how different a one she herself had lived only some two or so sennights ago.
Willas stepped nearer to her. She could tell as much by the noise he made in doing so. “I would ask for an evening’s supper with you sans the company of our fathers. Your family is dear to ours, and soon, we’re to be further bound together. I would be pleased if you could count on me,” he finally found his way to her side, and when he did so, he gestured back to where the others were; his hand ghosted over her shoulder, nearly, but not touching her. “Your siblings could join us. As could Princess Daenerys.”
Not only did he play a dangerous game by way of his actions after his earlier words, he seemed to act familiar with the rest of those their age.
Why were the Roses allowed such closeness if Rhaenys and the others spoke ill of them?
“I’ll speak with the King,” Visenya had still to turn and face him as they spoke, her eyes preferring to fall on a pair of little boats as they drew closer and closer to shore. She wondered what haul they’d brought back with them — mayhaps bright-coloured fish, or the queerer creatures, like those that had long limbs like a bundle of snakes. Anything at all pulled from the sea would interest her… but there was a need for her to mind the Tyrell at her side, and so she did. With a turn of her head so as to look at the tall man that stood a shoulder’s length from her, she arched a brow, and spoke. “Is there anything else, my lord?”
“Only a second expression of thanks, Princess. I’d truly not meant to offer offence by happening upon you and Princess Rhaenys. You and your sister each were kind not to make issue of my doing so.”
Again he repeats his apology. Does he think me foolish, or in need of placating?
“House Tyrell is a dear friend to the Crown. New to this court as I am, I know the bonds between our families run especially deep from the time of the Rebellion, to present,” Visenya did her best to give him a smile; it had to be forced. There was no desire to speak politics or play the verbal game the Southron people loved so much. “Speak not another apology, my lord — your Princess commands it as your token of friendship.”
That made the man give a genuinely pleased look. He lacked the dimples others might have, but there was an air of honour and genuineness to him upon closer inspection; the other desire of his was present as ever too, but that, she could ignore… for the time she’d need spend near him.
With the last vestiges of light leaving them, and the evening coming to its close, Margaery had just given invitation to tea and snacks whensoever Visenya and Rhaenys desired. Whilst she said such pretty words in the hopes of getting the Princesses to agree, their brothers placed early bets on the tourney’s opening, loud and more at ease than the start of the evening had seen them.
It was then, in the midst of those two conversations, when another finally joined them with a skip, red-faced and smiling.
Daenerys. A rather deep in her cups Daenerys, given the sway and giggles that she’d arrived with — it came as no surprise that, even with much fine filling her belly, she was able to walk as gracefully and regally as ever she did.
“Nephew, Niece, I’ve come for my twin,” Daenerys said those words whilst she took up one of Visenya’s hands, and gave a tug. They were only minorly slurred, and her ‘tug’ was soft as one of Rickon’s pulls; just as demanding too.
Aegon’s eyes flickered from their aunt, to Rhaenys. As had happened before, she saw her siblings communicate sans words. It was as if a small conversation was had in the span of a few seconds, and in that conversation, a mutual understanding was reached.
“My lords, my lady,” Aegon stayed seated as he spoke, choosing to lazily roll his head so as to seek out the three Tyrells. “I shan’t deny my aunt her request of Visenya — you’ll have to make do with Rhaenys and I for what remains of the eve—” his eyes switched from bouncing off Tyrell to Tyrell, and locked onto Daenerys. “— do you make to leave this instant, Aunt?”
“We do!” Daenerys pulled Visenya as close as could be, her right pressing into the latter’s left. That action made the faint wetness upon Visenya’s skin press firmly into the fabric of her wear; those extra layers or heavy dresses she favoured truly weren’t meant for the Southron heat. “Lord Willas, Ser Garlan, Lady Margaery, a fine eve to you all. I look forward to when next we dine. Goodnight!”
Abrupt and without waiting to hear what the Tyrells wished to say back in addition to the formalities, Daenerys had them skipping along. The balcony took seconds to flee from, and the majority of the rooms, equally as long. It was only when they neared those still sitting inside at the table — the true adults — where they slowed, and eventually, at the behest of Elia by way of a look, stopped altogether.
“My girls,” Elia held aloft her left arm; the right was still wrapped around Rhaegar. “A kiss each, if you mean to leave. ‘Tis the price I hear tell of as of late.”
Mace set a hand on his stomach and laughed at the exchange, his lady-wife by his side, a Hightower by birth, smiled at it. It seemed they shared the same fondness most parents seemed to feel towards their children, and so minded not the open affection of the Targaryens.
As Daenerys and Visenya moved closer to Elia, Father finished saying whatever he’d been in the midst of conversing with Mace about, and set his attention upon the approaching Princesses. In an instant, a warmth filled his previously friendly gaze, and once they were near enough for Elia to sweep into her arm, he rose from his seat, and leaned forth to envelop all three women.
Mace and his wife very politely shifted a little ways down the table and began to converse about something related to their prized Margaery. It was kind of them to give the Royals a moment without so much as a word spent to request just that.
As for Mother and Father, they had no small amount of words to put forth once each had been paid their kiss tax, as it’d henceforth be called.
“Two of our sweet sweet girls, Rhaegar,” Elia cooed as she pressed a kiss to Daenerys’ nose, then Visenya’s. When time came for the latter’s peck, Visenya could smell the copious amounts of wine Elia had consumed; close as she now was too, she could see on her darker cheeks a redness. “I wish they’d stay this age forever.”
Rhaegar shook his head. “Our sweetest girls they are, but I’d wish them younger if we’d keep them around in perpetuity — already, I receive far too many a request for their hands,” he pressed a large, warm, fatherly kiss to her forehead, then repeated the action to Daenerys. “Dany, ‘Senya, you’ll be in Rickon’s chambers tonight, is that right?”
“For a time, brother,” Dany mashed one of her cheeks against one of Visenya’s, her next words off-sounding on account of that. Were it any other, mayhaps she’d have been annoyed, but Daenerys was too pure a soul, too joyous, to be bothersome. “I’ll take my twin to my chambers when our pup’s asleep and have her keep me company through the night. We’ll remain there until morn comes and time comes to see Aegon put Ser Cletus in the dirt.”
Visenya wondered why Daenerys felt the need to share their plans in such detail. Surely if he desired to know where they were, the Spider would tell him. If not that shady man, mayhaps one of the hundreds that operated in and around the Red Keep; one was seldom alone and given true privacy.
“Father?” Visenya thought of a question, sudden and totally unrelated to their plans for the evening.
Those eyes of his, striking and radiating power, captured her own. The smile he gave her did little to set her at ease; he was so Kingly. More awe-inspiring and imposing than F— Lord Stark had been… which was odd, given her uncle was a larger man by no small measure.
“…ute, look how distracted she gets,” Elia pinched her cheek, and seemed to lose a battle that was self-fought as she pulled her — and Daenerys — into her lap.
Rhaegar hushed his wife with a faux stern look and urged Visenya to speak.
“Have you heard if anyone else of note might… might be in attendance?” Visenya knew Lord Stark would be kept away in the North, unable to visit the South again so long as he lived. But the others, like Robb or Sansa, might prove able to visit. Gods, how good it’d be to speak with any of them.
He gave one single dip of his head. “One of your cousins,” he switched topics as soon as that answer was given. “You wouldn’t mind the presence of another cousin, speaking of, would you?”
Visenya hesitantly shook her head, that long, Targaryen hair they insist she let go loose slowly swaying back and forth. “No, Father.” With her question answered, she would be meek and kind; her excitement of Robb’s impending visit would need wait until later. “Who is it?”
That came a few seconds later, when thought came forth that ‘cousin’ might be Quentyn. Gods, how she hoped that wouldn’t be the case. He seemed like a Southron Theon by manner of talk and demeanour… and exploits.
“Tyene, Nymeria, Obara and Sarella, on occasion,” Elia was the one to give answer to her question, and with a teasing grin on her face, she answered that which she’d not asked aloud. “Quentyn will be participating in both joust and melee. He’ll not have time to sit with us, nor will Aegon all that oft, save for when it’s time to view archery.”
At the mention of her favourite hobby and greatest skill — mayhaps tied with horseback-riding in regards to both former and latter — she could but imagine the faces on the many young lords if she showed up and won. It was a dream, in truth, and for a myriad of reasons; that didn’t stop her from allowing the vision to wash over her.
Even as they parted from Rhaegar and Elia, and conversation with the Tyrells at the table resume, she was taken by the thought of entering, and winning , the archery portion of the tourney.
If only.
Dany furrowed her brow and folded her arms as she stared at the curled up, sleeping form that was Rickon. He was atop a fabric-covered couch with a bundle of furs and pillows surrounding him in the corner he’d chosen. One could scarcely see so much as a hint of his skin, such was how hidden he was.
“I wanted to bathe him.”
“Another time,” Visenya moved as a stalking wolf might, and made nary a sound until she stood right over her little brother. Thereat, she swept him up and into her arms, taking with him a pillow and two furs. “We’ll put him to bed and go to your chambers.”
With a pretty little pout on her wine-red face, Daenerys hopped atop the bed as a cat might, and peeled back the furs for Visenya as she lowered her pup into bed. The pair each made sure to plant a kiss atop his head before they scurried away; Visenya also made sure to order fresh food and drink be brought to his bedside table should he wake up in the midst of the night with a pain in his stomach.
From there, in little time, the pair found themselves some few chambers away atop Daenerys’ bed. Ser Loras and Ser Barristan both stood guard outside with only a dozen men-at-arms to keep them company in that ofttimes silent vigil they kept.
“Are you eager to see Aegon fight for your honour?” Daenerys poked at her cheek, the drunken girl giggling when Visenya swatted at her hand each and every time. “He’s a far more charming brother than mine own — gallant too.”
Visenya had to fight from wrinkling her nose. “It was very honourable of him, you speak true… still, I think I could have taken this ‘Ser Cletus’ and taught him as I wished. Now, I shan’t have the chance.”
“Don’t whinge,” Daenerys had a pout come to that flushed face of hers, and then determination settled as a crown might. With a mighty puff of air and nary a sign of warning save for that, she wiggled in-place before pouncing atop Visenya.
Winded and shocked, Visenya didn’t fight back initially.
Not until she felt Daenerys’ hands seeking out her flanks, and those little deft fingers wiggling thereagainst. Gods, as soon as her intentions were made clear and those feelings began to well up, she writhed and wriggled.
But failed to dislodge her twin.
First, it was laughter that came. Laughter the likes of which she’d not had since she’d been with the Starks. It was so furious that her face went red as Dany’s did, and still, she persisted.
“Da—da… gods!” Visenya threw her twin partially off and clutched at the sheets. She pulled at them with all her might… and moved all of a pace, if even that. Tears came, then incoherent moans, then finally, sweet mercy.
And breath.
Daenerys was able to gain that back as well, her incoherent — insidiously cute — giggles had rendered her nearly as breathless as Visenya herself had been.
With the wind sweeping in the scent of water and a cold breeze, Visenya found herself snuggling into the warmth that Daenerys provided as the two began to settle in after their play. It was near to the hour of the eel, or mayhaps ghosts, if she had to guess. Late enough that sleep would be wise, given how early she need rise.
“Visenya?”
“Hmmm?”
She felt a tug on the bare skin of her upper-arm, and with a little sigh of effort, rolled so as to face her twin. Upon doing so, she found they were much closer than first she’d thought; they shared one pillow and one breath.
Unlike with Rhaenys or Aegon, however, there was no queer sense that rose in her belly. Nor did there seem anything untoward in her eyes as they peered into her own.
“You’ll stay, won’t you?”
That made a jolt of cold stab her in the back as strong as any ball of snow might. Had she guessed that Visenya had thought of making an escape? It wasn’t remotely possible, not with Rickon or the thousands of men that would search for a young Targaryen Princess alone in the wilderness.
In truth, by this point, she wasn’t even sure the desire to leave was as strong as it’d previously been… but that was another matter in and of itself, with a complex web she failed to handle each and every day.
“Where else might I go?” Visenya’s answer was drier than she may have liked.
Thankfully, Daenerys failed to notice — or desired not to bring attention to that fact — and gave her a small little tired smile.
It morphed into a pouty, exaggerated frown not a second later, and with tired eyes, she spoke. “You wished to speak to me about Aegon and Rha—” she squeaked out a yawn. “—enys. I can stay awake… lil longer.”
Visenya herself could nary see another hour come to be, exhaustion had taken her; even now, she wasn’t used to walking as much as she found herself doing in the Red Keep. “On the morrow’s morn when we bathe.”
“I swear it.” Daenerys threw an arm around her, and encouraged, Visenya burrowed further into the warmth the other girl provided.
That whistling wind, the call of a bird unfamiliar to her, the scents of flowers, waters and her cuddle-partner.
It was a wondrous harmony for causing one’s mind to be lulled to sleep in no time at all.
Chapter 12: Ser Wandering Eye
Notes:
Alright. I might've gotten impatient for the two week marker, so here's Chapter 12. I'll still be fitting in an update from the 29th-1st of April as previously promised.
Your comments and the kudos are very appreciated; thank you all!
Chapter Text
When Visenya finally shook off the deep embrace sleep had over her, the earliest light of the day greeted her in tandem with birdsong and the typical breeze that carried with it the scent one could only describe as unique to King’s Landing. That wind, one which oft reached her on account of how she slept and one that gave just as good a cause to rise as those singing birds, did little to chill her on account of the inferno that was Daenerys; she was hotter than Rhaenys or Aegon, though just as soft as the former.
Visenya had the yearning to rise from her bed and relieve herself, but weak as it was, the comfort took precedence and try as she might to stop herself, she couldn’t help but burrow into her twin. She blamed Robb and Arya for her pack-tactic loving mind. Were it not for them, she’d not be half as reliant — or desirous — on the embraces of others.
Elia, Rhaenys, Daenerys… all are much too doughy and warm to deny myself the pleasure and sense of security their holds bring.
That very thought went through her as she wiggled closer to Daenerys, and tucked her face under the other girl’s chin. What followed was another that marvelled at the softness of her skin; it was as if her twin was made for cuddling.
She wiggled closer, seeking out that warmth as a moth might a flame.
But it seemed that yearning was her ruin, for Daenerys’ head moved, and then she heard a dreary laugh as arms enveloped her.
“Feeling affectionate, ‘Senya?” Daenerys’ voice had that morningy tinge to it.
As the hands to those arms that’d grabbed hold of her began to trace nonsensical shapes upon her back, she gave answer to Daenerys’ words. “You’re comfy,” she mimicked her twin’s actions and with her own arms — and sans the fear of waking her given the obvious — she pulled herself as close as close could be, and let loose a little sigh.
One full-up with contentment. Mayhaps that was the most like her father she’d been since her arrival.
Daenerys, however, wouldn’t let her soak in that contentment anymore than she would her embrace. There was much to do this day, and first and foremost, before even the ‘friendly’ spar that Aegon would have with Ser Cletus, was their bath.
And so it was.
With soap suds in her hair and partially obscuring her vision, Visenya sank further back, into the steaming hot water. Daenerys’ fingers worked into the nest atop her head, the Targaryens preferring she not cut it lower, as she desired; she assumed they wanted her to grow it out long as she could as an ever-present reminder of her heritage.
If twas that as their plan, it worked we—
Visenya’s eyes went wide and she let out a low-sounding moan when Daenerys' hands went lower.
She hadn’t thought the touch of another upon her slight shoulders could feel as good as that had.
“If you fall asleep in the bath of all places, I’ll be very cross with you — need I remind you that you’ll be returning the favour?” Daenerys’ words were said with a faux haughtiness as she continued to work Visenya’s shoulders. At one point, the former even stopped so as to trace the little lines of blue thereon.
Senya minded not.
With a yawn, she pushed upon the bottom of the tub and saw herself rise higher. “I won’t forget.” Visenya let her head fall back after those words were spoken aloud, for Daenerys’ fingers began to work at the base of her scalp. Still, wondrous as that felt, she managed a response. “Can we… could we discuss what we…” Gods, she was horrible at getting to her point.
It was an embarrassing topic to bring up, but mixed with Daenerys’ magical hands and how that made her mind lose focus, nary a sentence that needed to be said, could.
“What you wished to the previous night?” Daenerys didn’t halt when she picked up where Visenya had left off. “As I’ve said, you can speak with me about anything. I’m not beholden to Rhaegar as much as Aegon or Rhaenys are — King my brother may be, he’ll always be sweet to his dear little sister… and if he’s not, I’ll go to Mother.”
Visenya couldn’t help the little burst of laughter that came forth. Gods, how many times she’d heard ‘I’ll tell Mother’ or ‘I’m getting Father’ from her siblings. It was so normal a thing to say, and brought the Targaryens closer to that which few thought they were.
Normal.
Daenerys shared in her laughter as she rinsed the mixture from Visenya’s hair, and it was then, when the latter action was finished, that their levity was over. There was only so much beating around the bush one could do.
“What did you wish to hear of them?” Daenerys’ fingers dropped to the water’s surface, whereupon doing so, she scooped up a handful of hot water, and dropped it atop Visenya’s head.
As it cascaded down and brought relief to the muscles of her back, Visenya put forth her question. One that was made easier to ask when she couldn’t see the visage of her twin looking back at her.
“Do they plot to include me in their pe— joining?” She’d caught herself before the word ‘perversions’ could leak out. Detest it as she might, the thought of her doing anything of an intimate nature with them, there was still no need to speak poorly. Not with how close all of House Targaryen seemed to be.
“Would you have what I know to be fact, or what I suspect might happen?” Daenerys’ tone was still soft-sounding, and instilled within it seemed an easing, calming quality. One hand went so far as to rest on one of Visenya’s shoulders whilst the other scrubbed at what skin was raised above the water.
Visenya didn’t like the words said by her twin anymore than she liked how they were said, or the gesture that followed. It seemed strongly indicative of one making to placate or calm another before offence or poor news was shared.
“Facts first, and what you imagine, after,” Visenya felt a chill run from the top of her back, down to her rear. It came even despite the heat of the water and the presence of the equally-hot Daenerys at her back.
“Rhaegar wishes to announce your betrothal upon your ten and sixth nameday at latest. Mine own is to happen at the end of the tourney, from what last I heard from him — Viserys and Margaery too.”
Visenya didn’t quite manage to swallow down the nervousness that rose and made tight her throat. “They’d said I wouldn’t leave and be sent away to another strange place. Did they mean to lie?”
Daenerys’ hands finally halted. “Rhaegar and Elia won’t break the promise they swore to you. No strange man will spirit you away to another keep.” She leaned forth, and wrapped Visenya up in a hug. That embrace brought with it the true nature of Daenerys’ heat, as well as the many sweet scents added to their water and soaps. “The next words which I speak are those I made mention of earlier. I know not if… if Rhaegar intends to wed you to Aegon. Part of me believes that he does with all the lessons the two of them and Rhaenys had — lessons which I wasn’t privy to — and the occasional slip of the tongue throughout the years.”
Despite the many thoughts she’d had thereof, Visenya’s blood ran cold. It was her fear, the greatest she’d had since she’d come to the South, realised. Only one fate was worse; one sans the Starks.
I could flee.
She could take Rickon and flee to Winterfell with the wandering crow. He’d see her safely returned. He was a man of the North, was he not?
Visenya sank into the water; that wasn’t a realistic thought. Not in the slightest. Flee as she might desire, there would be no escape from the Targaryens. Rhaenys had said as much once before — ‘now that we know you’re real, we’ll never let you go again’.
The Spider, the Tyrells, the Targaryens, the Lannisters… others with less honourable desires, one of those many hundreds and thousands that’d seek her out, would find her.
Better the Targaryens who’d treated her as family — even if that meant something different to them than it did to most others — than any other.
“…-nya?” There was a little blur as a hand waved back and forth in her field of vision. “Visenya? You’re making me nervous.” Daenerys’ voice sounded just that; nervous.
Lost as she’d been in her fleeting thoughts of escape after Daenerys’ confirmation, Visenya had paid little mind to the other girl or her surroundings. Little enough that she’d failed to feel Daenerys’ hands shaking her shoulders, or mind her twin’s calling of her name with lips so near to her left ear that they were nearly pressed there against.
“My apologies. I’m well.” Visenya forced down the bile and score of thoughts, and gave answer to Daenerys; she even sent a look over her shoulder. One that played at imitating a smile, but even she knew it was a poor effort.
“I doubt that very much.” Daenerys rose from the bath, the droplets of water splashing around the large tub and a wave going over the edge. Out in the air, she let out a little hiss as the far cooler air struck her heated body, and then she held out a hand Visenya’s way. “I can answer all that you’d have of me while I comb your hair… after you’re dry — love you as I might, I’d not like to remain naked for this conversation.”
Despite it all, Visenya couldn’t help but let out a snorting-laughter as she took to drying herself while her twin did much the same opposite of her. With a little shift thrown on thereafter, she found herself sitting with her legs folded under her betwixt Daenerys’ legs at the edge of one of the many plush, pillow-like chairs.
“Why?” It was the simplest question Visenya could pose.
“I know little or less. Mother and Nuncle Aemon know all, I suspect… Aegon and Rhaenys, more, but how much more, I can’t say,” Daenerys paused to run the brush through Visenya’s hair, her movements gentle and soothing, and very reminiscent of Elia’s as she thought aloud whilst trying to answer Visenya’s question. “Mayhaps my brother thinks it necessary for the house. He oft makes mention of three being needed, and his projects, those with the Dragonpit and sewers, he began those out of a desire to earn the good graces of the people just as much as he did out of the goodness of his heart.”
“He already had the admiration of most, what more could he desire from them?” Northmen spoke of it contentiously whensoever the King was made mention of. The Dragon King. A hero and a minstrel, dashing to all ladies, and admired by all menfolk.
South of the Neck.
“Love. Loyalty,” Daenerys had a fondness in her voice when she spoke aloud the two qualities. “If he wishes to do as I think he does — as you seem to believe he will — then he will need as many of the smallfolk on his side as he can get. Lords and their wives too.”
“I see.”
He wishes to make the masses love this family, then he wishes to have that very same family intermarry. Brother with sister, both elder and younger. The Old Gods and New Gods alike wouldn’t stand for this, and he knew as much if he sought favour with those who kept to them.
Visenya let out a shaky breath when she felt Daenerys pull the brush from her hair. “I don’t suppose you could convince him to do otherwise?”
“I’ll have words with him, but Rhaegar is King. If he wishes to have you marry Aegon alongside Rhaenys, I—” Daenerys paused, and pulled Visenya up with a gentle tug; she slid past her as she rose, sitting betwixt her legs just as Visenya had done — she cocked her head back far as it could go to make eye contact as Visenya took up the brush Dany had just discarded. “There would be little I could convince him otherwise.”
“I know. One can still hope,” Visenya set herself to the task at hand, and thought not of what the future likely had in store for her.
This short conversation that felt as if it were hours had given her the answer she desired.
It wasn’t what she’d hoped for, but… but she could prepare. Somehow.
I can confront Father. Mother. Mother will help me. She has to.
Yet a poisonous part of her mind said otherwise; she hoped it was wrong — mayhaps she’d hear back from her siblings by way of the raven she’d sent, and that wandering crew option would be made all the more realistic.
She doubted Mother and plot alike.
“It’s tight.”
Visenya's nose wrinkled at how she appeared in the looking glass. It was an outfit and style that didn’t fit her — nary a thing Daenerys adjusted or made different would make the light, Dornish-style armour fit her better than it already did, not in either meaning of the word.
“It was Rhaenys’ from some few years past. Prince Doran had it commissioned, and Oberyn oversaw it,” Daenerys fussed over the straps tugged at the fabric; she was as a mother hen to a chick. “Few have as fine a sparring suit of armour.”
Her eyes sought out the looking glass again.
Much of her armour was copper, with mail forgone altogether. Leather and thick fabrics were the predominant materials, and the colours thereof were red in majority, with black to accentuate certain parts. One couldn’t miss how a grand, visible strap in the front was made in the emblem of the Martell sigil, nor the winged helmet in reference to the more predominant lineage displayed.
“Too fine.” Visenya would have preferred the simple hardened leathers of the North. Any set would have taken half as long to dress in, and would prove more comfortable. She imagined the durability would favour the North as well. “Is there nothing else?”
Daenerys shook her head. “Aegon’s wouldn’t fit you any better. At least Rhaenys’ accounted for a woman’s proportions.” With one last adjustment made to a strap at Visenya’s left flank, Daenerys’ deft hands fell to her sides as she took a step back to observe her work. After a few seconds, she gave a pout, going so far as to fold her arms. “With such a scowl on your face, you make me realise despite our shared looks, I’ll never look half as fierce.”
“Would that we could trade,” Mayhaps Visenya shouldn’t have let the bitterness within her speak such words aloud, but who would do anything to her now?
Wisely, her twin left that poison-filled comment alone after a fleeting moment’s sad smile, and instead, made to grab her hand. Soft as each was, and freshly washed, it took a second effort to establish a firm hold.
When Visenya allowed her to get said firm hold, she wasn’t surprised to find herself being led to the Chamber door, the two padding across the stone and rug-covered floor to the sound of singing birds.
Daenerys sent her an encouraging smile and made to speak of the day’s warmth and the many people they’d meet of worry come later. She was pleasant and sweet, and that voice of hers that seemed crafted by the Gods themselves made for a most wondrous backdrop sa Visenya’s mind wandered.
Undoubtedly, those few that knew of the spar were already present and awaiting their arrival… but they were Princesses. Beyond that, it was her and Daenerys that were the party offended. Even if this dealing was kept silent for the sake of those involved, and despite the fact that Aegon had stolen her chance to trounce a Southron Knight, it would make for a good start to her morning.
She minded her twin again and reaffirmed the hand she had hold of; Visenya tightened her grasp when they grew near enough to hear the loud voice of her brother.
He hasn’t left, which likely meant Rhaenys hadn’t.
Of its own volition, her heart increased in pace at the sight of him, and her free hand balled into a fist. One so tight that her nails left marks upon the palm of each hand.
So long as Aegon and Rhaenys stay a pace away henceforth, I can act as I have in recent times; I was a fool to think their affection came without cause or cost.
Or Rhaegar’s and Elia’s.
As Aegon and Rhaenys grew nearer, Visenya’s eyes sought out Daenerys’ face. In the midst of an endearing, dimpled smile, she couldn’t help but wonder;
Is hers truly free of charge?
She didn’t think she desired to hear that answer; fear could play terrible tricks on the mind.
Daenerys walked hand-in-hand with Visenya to the archway that’d see them to the sparring yard ahead. Their typical guards were present, with Ser Barristan and the ever-stalwart Ser Loras not more than two paces behind the Princesses, each silent save for when they were spoken to.
When Rhaenys came into view, standing tall where Visenya had held Rickon when she’d hosted her private ‘tourney’, she very nearly stumbled. Daenerys noticed too, based on the snap of her head in Visenya’s direction, but the latter minded not the former.
Her eyes were much too caught by her big sister’s apparel.
“I did make mention of the fact that it was formerly hers, didn’t I?” Daenerys seemed to guess her thoughts and the cause of her stumbling.
“I’d not taken that to mean she’d wear an armour of the very same likeness, only upscaled.” Visenya had already found it queer enough, wearing the Martell sigil rather than that of the Starks — she lacked any item save for the sword she’d kept with her to remind her of her homeland. “Come the morrow I should see a new suit made. The Street of Steel… that’s it, right, Ser Loras?”
“It is, Princess. Many a fine armourer labours there. If it should please you, I could put together an escort to fit the morrow’s plan.” Ser Loras gave a good answer, and showed better initiative; truly, she’d come to appreciate the young knight’s presence at her side.
“I wo—”
“Rhaegar would need approve that journey, Ser Loras.” Daenerys’ eyes swept up and down her figure. That action carried with it nothing untoward; fear her twin she did not, but always did she seek to read the expressions of the Targaryens.
Such was the way she’d presumed — allegedly correctly as well — that Aegon and Rhaenys meant to…
“Would he deny it?” Visenya opened her mouth again, but the presence of so many others gave reason to pause. She had no coin of her own. What little she’d kept hidden in her tower had been left therein. It wouldn’t do if those nearest heard her worries of how she’d pay.
Daenerys could nary open her mouth before the words of another Targaryen Princess sounded off.
“Would who deny what, little sister?” Rhaenys’ voice was rife with happiness, and without so much as the chance to give a response, Visenya found herself enveloped; her big sister’s arms wrapped around her smaller frame and swept her up, the copper of their armour scraping together. “How adorable and fearsome you look~”
Those words were of the windiest quality. Rhaenys’ singsong fashion with which she’d said the final word as her hands wandered to pluck and pull at her figure betrayed her.
“We were making mention of Rhaegar, niece — and how kind of you to give such an embrace to your aunt as well.” Daenerys’ nose had steadily gone up with the passing of each of her latter words.
Rhaenys understood pout and whinge alike, and with a sigh of the utmost exaggerated quality, she withdrew one arm from ‘round Visenya as it was, and snagged their little aunt. With a tug, the only unarmoured Princess amongst the trio was pulled forth, into the embrace.
“My lovely little aunt, and my adorable baby sister,” Rhaenys pressed a kiss to each in turn which she mentioned them. From there, she inserted herself betwixt them and took up a hand from each, leading the twins to where they’d previously stood when last they watched him. “Aegon had desired to walk with you when first we met in the hall, but neither he nor I were quite ready — you two certainly were. My beauties.”
Daenerys let slip a sigh, and caught Visenya’s eyes with her own. “Compliment us oft as you do, and mayhaps Aegon or Rhaegar might see fit to have us sequestered away in the Maidenvault.”
“More time for me, ‘tis all I heard from what you’ve said.”
The three stopped at edge, and it was there Rhaenys let slip her grasp of the other women. Her eyes flickered from the two a few times over, then she gave a little nod towards the sparring yard below.
“Ae—”
“He’s down there.” Rhaenys gestured to the area which he’d emerged from back when he’d fought Ser Garlan. “Mother’s help, he sought over mine.”
“Why?” Daenerys’ eyebrows nearly joined together, such was the level of confusion upon her face; it was no wonder why when one took into account the pair were ofttimes together, arms looped or hands joined.
Or closer, if rumours are to be believed about their… relationship. Daenerys has made mention of their affectionate nature before, and how it’s caused the occasional scandal.
Mayhaps that was why they’re to wed; he’s already taken her maidenhead and now, he’s bound to her.
“… too fast. I’d desired to help her.” Rhaenys’ answer to Daenerys’ question had been missed completely, as had much of what’d followed. What didn’t go unnoticed, however, was the way in which — following those words — each looked to her.
Daenerys, with a cheeky little smile, raised a hand to Visenya’s face. ‘‘Twas I that was with her whilst you and Aegon enjoyed Rhaegar's company.” When she cupped her rosy cheek with that dainty hand, that smile grew larger at the same time a seemingly genuine, love-filled warmth emitted from her eyes. “Next time will be your chance, lest I’m there and you’re nowhere to be found. Mayhaps should that occur too oft, I’ll steal her.”
As if she’d been waiting for a slip-up from her diminutive, yet teasing and — mostly faux — bratty aunt, Rhaenys struck. “Steal her as a Wildling might?”
With said words put into Daenerys’ mouth, Rhaenys raised the hand which had remained free, to her mouth; mock surprise was one look she couldn’t pull off in the slightest.
Whilst Daenerys gaped with rapidly reddening cheeks and Rhaenys bathed in her victory, it was Visenya that gave response to her big sister's words.
“Daenerys has naught for me to geld if she were to try.”
Amused as Daenerys‘ loo shifted towards — pleased too, given the look Rhaenys wore in response to her words — their attention was finally called to the yard below.
The hush that’d been imperceivable to the trio of Princesses gave way to a series of greetings and calls.
‘Good morn, Prince Aegon,’ seemed to be amongst the most popular, that or ‘my prince’.
So naturally the eyes of the three Targaryen women traced the looks the menfolk were sending, and found Aegon; he hadn’t entered where he was meant to. No, for whatever reason, he appeared below where they were stood, and dressed in that same winged-helmet with the most ornate of armour.
He gave response to the many men that called out to him, ofttimes in a tone of voice that gave off a level of ease and friendliness. Yet remain with them, the ‘good’ Prince did not. There was purpose in the way that he moved, and it was made obvious — his destination — very quickly; He sought out the stairs near to them.
After but three steps up, he was hidden from view. Ser Darry accompanied him as one might expect… as did a score of their household guard. All wore armour of a similar make to his, only far less beautifully-made. What struck her as queer was the few men of the Goldcloaks that also kept near to her brother.
Seldom did she see them, given how oft she kept to Maegor’s Holdfast; twas her new tower, only with company and many times larger.
Cosy as it might be, ‘tis not nearly as safe. Visenya could trust not a soul that didn’t belong to her fa— the Targaryens; a poisonous part of her mind added fuel to her internal fire, ever enlarging as it was nary a second after her initial thought. Not lest I’m in the arms of Rhaenys or Daenerys. Or Elia… or Aegon.
With an internal sneer, she visibly shook her head to rid such thoughts from the confines of her mind. Aegon had seemed a good enough brother, but that was all he’d be. Father would see that when the chance presented itself for her to speak to him.
“Already shaking your head at our brother, baby sister?” Rhaenys seemed less amused than oft she’d been early in their time together. There was a smirk sure enough, but this one seemed to fail in reaching her eyes.
Bashful, and not desiring to cause fuss with her sister anymore than the previous comment in regards to her and Aegon’s betrothal had, she shook her head. It saw that long, silverish hair of hers whip back and forth as if the wind had taken it, and as she gave response — one that Daenerys and Rhaenys both listened to — Aegon reappeared not more than a dozen steps away.
“At mine own self.” Twas the truth that she opted for. Not the whole of it, admittedly, but neither sibling would ever be granted that. Not with all the poison of both ilks that formed pools in her head, deep and treacherous.
That made Rhaenys cocked her head, and Daenerys, well, her response had nary the chance to be seen.
Aegon saw to that when he called out to the trio. “Sisters. Aunt. Beautiful as ever.”
In armour? Visenya doubted the sincerity and validity of his words.
“Little brother, come to seek our favour ahead of your win against Quentyn’s companion ?” Rhaenys took a step forward, and that meant so too did Visenya and Daenerys by way of their connection. With little effort, she used her free hand to ’pull’ him in, and sans a word, placed a kiss on either cheek. “Yours. As always… when you’re not being a troublesome boy.”
Aegon grinned despite Rhaenys’ words, clearly pleased with the kisses which she’d give him whilst so many looked on. “My thanks, Sister.” With a hand sliding down to Rhaenys’ waist, he turned his attention to Visenya; Rhaenys’ gaze followed.
Words didn’t immediately come forth. Nay, the pair looked her over, but she wasn’t alone. Daenerys gave a squeeze of her hand.
So Visenya raised her nose and blinked as she looked betwixt the pair. “What would you have of me?”
Rhaenys responded for her brother-betrothed. With a tap upon his cheek and a grin upon her face, she spoke. “A kiss on his cheek, as you’ve done before, little sister — ‘tis a sign of good luck when he fights on our behalf.”
“Brother?” Visenya wanted to hear it from his own lips; she also desired to see how he might react.
Aegon’s face bore a smile upon her urging. “One?” He shot her a pout just as practised and petulant as Rhaenys or Daenerys could; a royal quirk, it seemed.
Visenya briefly eyed the many onlookers, ‘discrete’ as most likely thought they were being. Word was likely already out of the time the three spent together, and mayhaps of the kiss upon his cheek she’d placed previously, in the gardens. Another here would only add fuel to any rumours… if they existed.
Gods. Am I paranoid? Mad? Inept? She swallowed down her thoughts of Southron politics, and narrowed her eyes at him. Visenya wouldn’t deny him his request with so many there to see, nor when doing so might make a problem where one needn’t be; that didn’t mean she’d not exact her own price for her continued affection.
“One.” She said as much with a stoic, cool gaze focused on her siblings. Knowing what she did, these instances would be few and far between, lest he only grow to desire her more — her eyes narrowed when she took a half-step closer to him, and then she stuck a finger into his chest just as she’d do to Robb; his chest felt just as hard, much to her surprise. “If you lose to this ‘Ser Cletus’, you shan’t get another.”
Rhaenys giggled as girlishly as Daenerys ever had which made it very hard to hold her cool look, and Gods, did Daenerys join; the two sounded as wondrous as any birdsong ever had.
It forced her lips, which had been in a thin line, to tilt upwards. That chorus of noise was enchanting as most thought Princesses would be.
“Perish the thought of my losing this bout, sweet sister. I dare say I could take you and Rhaenys on at once.” He had a cheeky little grin on his face, and shared a look with his sister-betrothed; it seemed one full of meaning, as the case was when the two were in her presence. “Tell me. How would you see me beat him? A blow to the head to see him knocked down and disoriented? Should I disarm him and use his own blade against him?”
Visenya wrinkled her nose. “You thi—”
Rhaenys let out a coo and dropped her arm from Aegon so as to encircle Visenya. “Ziry iksos tolī gevie.”
“Rhaenys.” Daenerys’ voice had a tinge of disapproval, and one of her soft, pale hands took hold of Visenya’s.
“I speak the truth, Auntie,” Rhaenys batted her eyes innocently at their aunt, but before whichever words were next could come — or a translation offered for Visenya’s sake — Aegon spoke.
“I’ll beat him post-haste, and come up for a second token of affection on the cheek which you leave without it,” Aegon dipped his head, receiving that kiss upon his cheek. That same charming look she’d seen on his face now worn again, bright as could be; he took a step nearer too, seeing his armoured chest press up against hers, and Rhaenys further envelop her. “Is that agreeable, ‘Senya?” His warm, mint-smelling breath splashed against her face.
“A second?” Visenya wished she could fold her arms in addition to that narrow-eyed gaze she was sending him, but each was filled with a Princess. “Receive too many and you’ll grow accustomed.” She hoped he and Rhaenys both could read the look in her eyes; we’ve spoken of this before, dolts. Do you want the realm to see us as more…
Realisation struck her. How foolish am I? If Daenerys thinks as I do, then of course that’s what they desire — who would claim me if the Crown Prince made his aims known, and with the permission of his first betrothed no less?
“Ser Cletus makes his appearance,” Daenerys’ words drew Visenya from thought and her siblings from their doting, single-minded gazes. “It seems he’s not learned his lesson, Nephew. Even now, the Ser seeks us out with his eye.”
Visenya let out the tiniest of giggles when Aegon and Rhaenys both snapped their attention in the aforementioned knight’s direction; they had a poison in their eyes that was amusing, if frightening, and beyond that, Daenerys’ choice way of speaking was noticed only by her. She’d made a good play on words.
Reluctantly, and after some few seconds of taking in the thinly-veiled disdain her siblings wore, she sought out Ser Cletus; he was with Quentyn and other Dornishmen of their party. That little giggle she’d initially let out was quiet enough that more oft than not, the burst of noise followed-up by a squeak of realisation would have gone unnoticed.
Yet Daenerys had caught it where her distracted siblings had not.
“I’m quite funny, aren’t I, Sister?” Daenerys’ voice was soft as her giggles, and only heard on account of her lips being pressed right close to her ear. The sounds of the menfolk and the quick conversing of her siblings in Valyrian made it all but impossible to hear her otherwise; she spoke again. “I think neither Rhaenys nor Aegon understood what I meant—” she snorted. “Mayhaps they didn’t hear me at all.”
Visenya flicked her gaze betwixt her siblings, and Daenerys. Encircling her as the former two might be, their attention still remained fixed entirely on Quentyn and his band of boys. Even when a strong wind splashed down and blew back Rhaenys’ hair and likely made hard keeping one’s eyes open, the pair stayed speaking in that quick hushed Valyrian.
“Mayhaps.” Visenya imagined engrossed in conversation as they were, Daenerys’ thoughts were right. “Will Aegon win as easily as he said he might?”
Daenerys hummed, and raised her free hand to her bottom lip; there, with her thumb on one side and her middle finger on the other, she half-squashed it as her brow furrowed in thought. Whilst her adorable twin formulated her response, the words of her siblings carried. She knew not if the wind favoured her or if the pair had gotten louder, but it mattered not.
“Skori gaomagon ao pendagon mirre kessa rȳbagon īlva hāedar iksis īlvon?” Aegon had a tone in his voice she seldom heard him take. Beyond the charm and elegance of the language, she could hear an impatient-sounding anger; it made her move closer.
There was something about the language. Something about the way the sunlight reflected on her armoured brother and sister that drew her to them — it made her despise herself as much as the situation she imagined she’d soon find herself in.
“īlon daor rush, Valonqar. Emā nyke while īlon umbagon syt kepa's iderennon.” Rhaenys’ tone stood in stark contrast to Aegon’s. It was just as wondrous to hear, but it lacked the negative undertones of their brother’s. Instead, it was calming, and that was made all the more obvious when Rhaenys leaned in closer to him and rested her head atop his shoulder.
Happy as Aegon seemed by Rhaenys’ affection, he seemed to have one last bout of annoyance. “Jaelan īlva hāedar lēda īlva. Īlin meant naejot glaesagon hae hāre.”
“Kesi sagon hāre.” Rhaenys lifted his helm, and pressed a kiss to the edge of his jaw; her eyes caught Visenya’s nary a second later. “Valonqar, make not a movement, but I think we’ve a spy in our midst.”
Without so much as the chance to speak, Rhaenys pulled Visenya more firmly betwixt her and Aegon’s armoured bodies, and saw her stuck there between.
“Listening to us, little sister?” Aegon’s voice was noticeably lighter. He sounded pleased as he oft looked in their company… then he looked away, unable to maintain eye contact with her… for a few seconds’ time when he did so again.
Gods, he confuses me. Rhaenys confuses me.
“Even if I did, I know not so much as a word. You could spill any secret you so desire, one that might ruin your lives if another found out, and still, I’d have understood not a word.” Visenya pointedly looked away upon his eyes returning to her own and the seriousness therein; Rhaenys’ gaze never wavered, unlike her siblings.
Aegon’s free hand caught Visenya wholly off-guard when it rose from where it’d limply been, and took hold of her chin. Thereon, and whilst her eyes widened in a mixture of alarm, shock and the queerest of tingles, he raised it and turned it so that her eyes could meet his own. Close as they were, a little redness came to his cheeks.
One she imagined wasn’t half as fierce as her own.
“That’ll change soon, little sister. It wouldn’t do if a Targaryen couldn’t speak her true tongue,” Aegon then leaned in, and a genuine burst of emotions struck her harder than any blow she’d ever taken in all her years of sparring; he meant to kiss he— his face darted to the right, and pressed the most chaste of kisses on her cheek. His lips weren’t half as soft as Rhaenys’, but they were distinctly… mannish. “Now, watch me beat this mummer of a knight for you.”
There was a gruffness, a passion by way of how his words carried, that made her look more deeply into his eyes. She sought to identify what lurked beneath the violet that was so very similar to her own — hundreds of secrets had to be present, but only one answer was she seeking.
Rhaenys, however, didn’t allow her to do as she desired. Not when she laughed and pressed yet another kiss to Aegon’s jawline and spoke, her gaze flickering betwixt Dany and ‘Senya. “Go and see if you can’t right his errant eye, baby brother. It offers insult, that he’d bring it to look in our direction.”
As Visenya and Daenerys shared a glance, Rhaenys giggled and sent off Aegon; he had an eagerness in his step.
Visenya… Well, she was full-up with curiosity of different kinds.
What rang loudest, and in spite of Rhaenys’ perception or Aegon’s actions, was a query as to the latter’s skill; had the spar with Ser Garlan been a fluke? Had the Tyrell man dishonoured himself and Aegon both by allowing himself to lose?
Or was Aegon truly as gifted a swordsman as he seemed to be?
The truth would soon be made clear.
Visenya’s hands grasped the carved stone ledge as she leaned forth. Rhaenys had an arm wrapped around her, resting atop the soft, pale flesh of her upper arm whilst Daenerys had hold of her hand, more content to leave a bit of distance; personal space was a rarity, a privilege, with how affectionate the Targaryens seemed to be.
Aegon had finished his descent of the ornate — to her eyes even now — staircase, and as if one had let loose a bolt from a crossbow, the change in his demeanour came about. It was as soon as his first boot struck the dirt of the yard that the soft, boyishly charming smile was wiped from his face and replaced by a Princely look.
One that demanded respect and awe in equal parts. The menfolk that would watch from the edges of the sparring yard looked on with expressions that ranged from awe, to adoration, and even fear, the lattermost of which was something that was a constant in the eyes of the common man. It seemed all loved their Prince, and with how he interacted with the men, it came as no surprise; the Gold Cloaks still were.
"My Prince," Ser Darry, Aegon's typical compeer, called the Prince's attention after a few dozen men had shared greetings with him, "Your sword."
"Of course," Aegon nodded his head in acknowledgement, and moved towards the table where a longsword was set upon, "My thanks, Ser."
Whatever next he would say wasn't able to be heard as Quentyn Martell came forth. He and Ser Cletus, the knight who'd offered offence in his drunken, foolish state, were the last to greet their Prince. It seemed Aegon had opted not to give so much as a glance to the other two men until all others were greeted. Mayhaps he did wish to show Visenya he cared for her in that mannish way. One that oft revolved around successful hunts in the woods, or victories in 'your honour' as might be claimed.
Quentyn, a boy many had said was comely — she didn't see it — and a Prince by his own right, but one who didn't seem to hold a candle to Aegon, said words in greeting she couldn't perceive. They were too far, and the noise of the men as they spoke in clusters, some with their eyes on Aegon, and some with flickering gazes to the Princesses, too loud. Visenya watched intently as he and Cletus bowed their heads and Aegon returned the gesture, though not with his hand over his heart or a genuineness to his actions.
Gods, did he seem more annoyed than she'd have thought when he spoke over dinner. Perhaps the pride in his tone and the tale Rhaenys had told of what he'd done to fight for her was not exaggerated. It was only then, when Aegon's mouth opened and words poured forth, that she found her heart beating more heavily, and not in that same mixture of excitement and nervousness that came about when in the midst of her siblings.
There was fear.
Fear for Aegon that she'd not expected to feel, yet the sight of sharp steel reflecting in the light of the sun that had yet to be swallowed by the clouds above caused it.
She could feel Daenerys' hand squeezing her own tighter as her twin sent the slightest of smiles her way. Visenya's lips parted after that fleeting glance Dany's way, and returned to the men below; when the two went to stand a few paces apart, the time for words now over, her heart skipped a beat.
The time for their 'spar' had come.
Visenya found it hard for breath to come to her as Aegon and Cletus danced in the yard. Steel crashed together with such force that the ringing was heard plain as any birdsong might be, and it was no easy task to keep her eyes from flicking back and forth between the two men. There was the most genuine of fears that Aegon would slip, or the sharp-edged steel of Ser Cletus would strike him.
One that'd not be there if it were her fighting Ser Cletus.
But the Prince, her brother, seemed of a skill level far beyond the Dornish knight. Aegon had taken to this bout for her honour despite her wishes — or those of Ser Jaime and Ser Loras — and gods, just looking at him made it clear how lopsided this was.
Truly, he had not so much as a bead of sweat trickling down the sides of his head as he ducked under a swing that was too high and brought his blade against the side of his foe's sword. Such strength, she thought upon hearing the noise the blow caused.
And then in the midst of that very thought, the sound of Ser Cletus crying out not more than a moment before stumbling back had her breath catching altogether, the harder breaths now impossible.
He was clutching his wrist, the one that held the sword, with his face a grimace and a low hiss escaping him. The blade clattered to the dirt in time with a light, but steady trickle of red, and the murmurs of the men watching began. She could hear them, though only faintly, but her gaze remained fixed on Aegon.
He'd not yet moved, and the tip of his blade rested lightly against the dirt. His head was tilted a fraction as if to ask a silent question, but not a word escaped his lips; then his gaze rose from Ser Cletus, to her — it didn’t escape her that he sought out neither Rhaenys nor Daenerys first, but her.
Visenya didn't know whether she ought to look away.
Had he not defended her honour? Seen Ser Cletus punished for the insult he'd offered by way of attitude and actions?
He'd made it a 'spar' instead of the challenge of arms Cletus had wanted by way of behaviour, but in truth, the man hadn't deserved that boon, and yet, Aegon had honoured it. Her heart was racing as her eyes remained locked with his for a moment, but a moment was enough.
Her head nodded and she saw a slight, barely-there smile on his lips before she looked elsewhere. She could feel her sister's eyes, Rhaenys' gaze, burning a hole in her. Mayhaps she could guess what was happening, or maybe she'd missed it, or mayhaps she was simply waiti— a wetness struck her.
Rhaenys' lips pressed against her cheek, and a smile that was near a grin on her part had the warmth from her breath tickling her ear, "I knew it."
"Knew what?" Visenya asked, a frown on her brow and a confused expression worn openly.
What did Rhaenys mean with such words?
She had nary the chance to say anything more, nor did Rhaenys have time to give answer, before Aegon reappeared at the top of the stairs; it was made clear that he’d raced up them, and with the widest of smiles, he closed the distance, and saw himself planted firmly betwixt his sisters.
“Quick as I expected, baby brother.” Rhaenys’ voice was full of jest, and the look of joy Aegon had worn was momentarily tempered by her words.
Until his eyes caught Visenya’s gaze, flickering and fleeting as a squirrel’s might be after it caught the eyes of its hunter. When that was intercepted, his dashing smile returned in full force. “Ser Cletus could hope for naught better, should you ask me.” He shed his helm then, and set it atop the stone half-wall; that smile was made all the more endearing by the helmet-hair he sported and the faint wetness of his hair. So endearing, that she’d very briefly zoned out, and heard only the latter half of his words. “…second, if it pleases you, sweet sister — I should think after how rough a tumble he took and the accidental drawing of blood that you might think me worthy.”
“Very worthy. A finer brother, we couldn’t ask for,” Rhaenys’ grasp of Aegon and Visenya alike saw the pair pulled away from where the eyes of those below might watch the Royals. Daenerys’ hold of Visenya saw her join the siblings, and with a silent, observative nature unusual of her; it warmed Visenya’s heart, knowing her twin would keep watch over her.
Visenya found her voice as the four sequestered themselves away in the shade of a hall; only the Kingsguard made to stay close, and even they stopped near to the doors as a sentry might — Ser Barristan and Ser Darry to that which connected them to the sparring yard, and Ser Loras with Ser Jaime by the entryway that’d see them further in the maze-like structure.
Wine, fruits and cheeses were spread atop a stone-made table, as was a rag with a pale of water beside it.
“Sit.”
Visenya blinked upon the single spoken word from Rhaenys. She’d been in the midst of her thoughts; a common occurrence as of late, and so she simply did as her sister said without so much as a second’s thought.
But so too did Aegon.
When each sent a look her way as soon as her rear came into contact with the plush, fabric-covered seat, she realised she’d been a touch too absent-minded.
That order from Rhaenys hadn’t been meant for her.
“Eager to listen, aren’t you?” Rhaenys cooed, momentarily leaving Aegon for her younger sister.
Visenya made to bat one of Rhaenys’ hands away when it went to stroke her side — the other, the one that sought out her hair, would be allowed. Conflicted as she might be, in the time she’d been with the Targs, there was a desire to experience all the love that she’d missed… only not in the sense it seemed Rhaenys or Aegon wished.
She could make it clear, her feelings and what she would approve when it came to the liberties they thought themselves able to take. Rhaenys had already figured that out. “I thought I’d heard a command, Princess.” Visenya made a show of worrying her bottom lip, and let her eyes drift down, to the bear-pelt covered rug Rhaenys stood upon; her eyes briefly captured Daenerys’ given where the latter was standing, and when they did, she made certain to wink.
A noise, wounded as she’d expected, came from Rhaenys; her hand in Visenya’s strands stilled. “If I or Aegon ov—”
“I jest, I jest,” Visenya hadn’t thought Rhaenys would be so fearful, or feel the pain as she seemingly had. It was a joke, one that made play of her former life they’d ripped her away from after Rhaenys’ teasing of how she’d initially acted. “I — neither of you has seen me hurt. Aegon went so far as to defend my honour… I wished to poke fun with words as you and the others might.” She very nearly offered up an apology, until she remembered Rhaenys and Daenerys each requiring her to avoid doing just that.
So instead, she pursed her lips and kept her gaze downcast; no longer out of faux demureness, but out of genuine embarrassment and, dare she say it, shame. Queer as all of her new family might be, and sinful as the feelings of her siblings seemed to be, none had seen so much as a bruise or scrape ruin her blemish free skin, pale and soft and — to her annoyance — exceedingly pink.
Rhaenys slid into what space remained atop the seat Visenya had chosen, and sans words for the moment, pulled her into her lap. “Bad little sister.” With one hand wrapped ‘round her waist, securing Visenya to her stronger form, the other was free to tickle her flank; writhe and roll as she might, Rhaenys was too strong to be thrown off, and so bursts of giggles were forced from her.
It was far better that, than an awkward silence or more awkward still, words on account of her own.
Aegon coughed, a pointed, attention-seeking sound. One that made Rhaenys lazily roll her head his way as that tickling hand finally ceased its assault. “Our brother feels left out. Auntie? Would you tell Aegon how good a job he did in dealing with Ser Wandering Eye whilst I untangle myself from Sweet ‘Senya?”
Ser Wandering Eye? ‘Tis that to be Ser Cletus’ new name?
Daenerys, who’d been rather caught-up in the spectacle Visenya had made with her older sister, cocked her head to one side as her hands settled at her hips. “Will that be before or after you unhand my twin?”
Rhaenys pouted, and nary a blink of the eye later, let her hands fall to her side. “I enjoyed her giggles — didn’t you?”
“I did.” Aegon offered up helpfully, as he grabbed the cloth and wet it.
Visenya looked away when he began to wipe it along the back of his neck, and the front of his face; as she did that, Daenerys sought out the space near to Aegon, and spoke as she slid into it with all the grace of a Targaryen Princess. “Well done, Nephew. Your swordsmanship was quite the sight. As was his defeat and that girlish noise he made in the midst of it. We all heard the cheers and the applause — did you think them too generous or too kind to his prowess in combat?" Daenerys’ eyes flickered between Rhaenys and Visenya, though it was clear she expected the former of the two to give answer.
It seemed Daenerys wished to aid her in not being at the centre of her siblings’ attention.
Which was why it was completely and utterly foolish of her to speak up as she did; it happened sans thought, as if she were a spectator in her own body. "You fought well, Aegon. Thank you." She dipped her head, and then, abrupt as could be, rose from her seat; the copper-plated armour she wore, the same style as those her sister donned, made the act difficult and louder than she’d have liked, but she managed. "We should head for the yard. Aren’t we to have our bout now that he and his have fled it?"
Daenerys' violet eyes followed her movements, she could see that easily enough, but Visenya didn't dare look at Rhaenys after that change in behaviour she’d randomly experienced — it’d likely be too joyous, too full of hope. She’d had her fun and her moment in the sun when she’d tickled Visenya ceaselessly, and to the point of tears too.
"We'll go when we desire. All present who wish to view our fun would expect as much." Rhaenys brushed off the urgency Visenya had attempted to place in her words. "You needn't rush anything that you do here, little sister. All know we'll begin when we desire, and I think for the moment, our Aegon is entirely too focused on having the sweat wiped from his hair lest it cause his face to turn red and covered in miniature boils."
"Would you both help me?" Aegon, at her prompting, held aloft the cloth he'd been using and grabbed up another with his free hand. With a faint sheen upon him and their father's old armour on, he truly did look a prince of a divine nature.
Like Daenerys. Like Rhaegar and Rhaenys.
Like me.
She shook her head and set thought back to her brother; A Prince who'd defended her honour, and one that she'd seen a new side to. A side that, for the briefest of moments, made her feel a heat not unlike the one Rhaenys inspired within her on occasion.
Thinking of Rhaenys as she was, she noticed not her sister's motions until she'd gone to Aegon's side and began helping him with his hair and face. Visenya frowned, but didn't make a move. Mayhaps he meant Daenerys. The pair were close, were they not?
She felt the tingling of nerves within her stomach at the thought, but then her sister was looking her way, and there was the faintest of smiles on her lips, one that was almost a smirk, as her fingers worked the cloth through the locks of silver-gold hair atop Aegon's head. "He won't bite, 'Senya. He's a very tame dragon, our brother. Gallant and fearsome as you've seen, but tame for us she-dragons to handle. Come."
Visenya huffed. An internal conflict was waged for a few seconds’ time, then she spoke. "I'll not have it be said that I won't aid those who've fought for me, and won." With confident, purpose-filled steps, she went to Aegon's other side, and took the cloth he offered her, "You've made me proud, Aegon. Truly. I wished twas I that saw Ser Cletus on his knees and crying out like a babe, but..."
"I won't risk you. Not ever." Aegon's words came without so much as a beat of hesitation. His eyes were aflame, and the passion and the care within them was a thing to be feared; there'd been a hope that what Daenerys had heard was meant for her rather than Visenya, that she was to be Aegon's second wife, but more and more that seemed not the case. Her worries and errant thoughts of her princely brother were washed away when he grinned as a boy might, losing the masculine charm the battle had brought about as more words flowed forth. "Might I make mention of that second kiss to be placed upon my other cheek, or would that be pushing my luck?"
Rhaenys was grinning, her hand still working through his hair with that wet, whitish cloth. It seemed she found Aegon's burst of boldness amusing, or mayhaps it was Visenya's way of reacting to it that amused her so.
Whatever the cause, it wouldn't continue whilst Daenerys was there, for she shook her head. "It would." Daenerys answered before Visenya had the chance.
That sternness from their usually sweet, innocent-seeming and small aunt was surprising, and had Rhaenys' hand halt and Aegon's mouth close. Visenya made to pay it no mind, yet that was a challenge in and of itself, for she took note of the look her siblings exchanged upon hearing Daenerys' words.
It was like they’d not expected that from her, nay, that such words weren’t possible to come from their sweet little aunt.
Then the pair shared a look, and Rhaenys made to play off Daenerys' remark. "A jest from our Aegon, Auntie. He's greedy, and desires our attention for himself."
Aegon took on a look of mock indignation. "You think me a greedy man?"
Rhaenys' lips twitched before she pressed a kiss against his cheek. "You, my precious little baby brother?" She batted her lips and wiped the cloth across his forehead, slow and loving in the motion. "Only on occasion." With laughter, Rhaenys stepped back and tossed the cloth onto the table, where a number of other items rested. There were scented oils, poultices, and salves to ease aches, but those would see usage later, when all present had their fill of sparring; Visenya would try to spend time with bow and arrow too, if she could.
Horseback riding was still unlikely to be allowed. If not for the myriad of people present for the upcoming tourney in celebration of her, then on account of the 'chance' she might make to flee from her family.
"You can stop wiping him down, Visenya. Enjoy the attention as Aegon might, Father and Nuncle Oberyn expressed how important it was to me that we have words before you're able to use the sparring yard." Rhaenys had spoken again, and this time, her voice conveyed the rare and elusive seriousness she was capable of.
She sounded almost like Daenerys.
Aegon had noticed as much too, for his lips were pursed and a pout came forth. "So soon?" He sagged in his seat, his eyes lidded as one hand sought out Rhaenys. "Visenya's hands felt lovely enough I half-thought I'd let sleep claim me 'til the conversation was over. Our little sister could teach you much, Rhaenys.”
"Oh?" Rhaenys gave him the sweetest of looks and matched her tone thereto as she let Aegon pull her close. "Perhaps you can pester her whensoever you're 'sore' or 'uncomfortable'? That'd certainly give me much in the way of unused time going forward."
That remark made Aegon pull her close, and from there, a bout of play-wrestling came forth as brother and sister let their dragonsblood takeover. Many would consider it inappropriate in a number of fashions, many of which Visenya agreed with... yet they seemed so pleased, so genuine when it was not but family with them. How could she ruin that happiness, queer as it might be to her?
So she carefully pulled away, setting down the sweaty, water-covered cloth she'd used to wipe away the beads that had been upon Aegon's hair. As she did so, she noticed Daenerys' sterner look, the one she'd worn since the two had been so 'intimate' with her, melt away into that usual sweet, girlish innocence. Her twin had mastered it so well that Sansa would've been hard-pressed to do better; she was pleased to see she hadn’t made Daenerys dislike her siblings or think of them in another light either.
That was the last thing she desired, not that it were possible in the first place — Dany had over a decade’s time with Aegon and Rhaenys, and nary a moon with her. If a choice need be made…
Visenya shook her head and didn't let her eyes linger on her siblings' play-fight too long, lest Rhaenys catch her watching. And so, without a word, she made her way from the seat that was more bed-like than otherwise, back whence they'd come when first they’d arrived to the little tucked-away corner.
She took nary a dozen steps 'til she was stopped by Daenerys' hand touching her shoulder. "Where are you going?"
"I'd like to make use of the distraction each makes for the other and visit the yard." Visenya took the hand from her shoulder up in one of her own; they were a near-perfect match for one another. Down to the last detail, though their fingers were slightly different in length, with Visenya's own being longer. "Would you care to join me? You needn't practise… of course, but I'd enjoy the company whilst I look over what weapons they've permitted me to wield."
"Permitted you to wield?" Daenerys scrunched up her nose in such a cute way, and it was a look Visenya could never see her matching regardless of how similar they were. "We're Targaryens. Should not every weapon in the Seven Kingdoms be ours for wielding if called upon?"
"I doubt the King would desire me to practise with live steel." Mayhaps there was a lingering bitterness since she'd not had her bout with Ser Cletus sanctioned.
Daenerys' hand tightened around her own. "You'll wield a live sword soon enough, I'm sure, 'Senya." There was a brief pause as they allowed Ser Barristan and Ser Loras to grow near enough for the Kingsguard to escort them, and then Daenerys spoke up once more; Visenya imagined she'd used the time their steps took to think... she had, and it seemed her conclusion was to switch to something else entirely. A topic that'd see her mood made bright as the Southron sun above. "Did you hear that your cousin means to visit?"
"Robb?" Marna's eyes widened a fraction as a smile spread across her lips. "When? Why?"
"For your tourney. He'll sail aboard a Manderly ship, or mayhaps he is already. I know not... but he'll bring with him the knights thereof. I believe Rhaegar mentioned a ‘Jorah’ that Lord Stark is sending in his place, and a few lordlings." Daenerys made as if there was more, yet then her look turned sour. It seemed whatever else the King had said when he heard tell of her cousin and his contingent of Northmen coming south for her tourney, Daenerys didn't wish to repeat. "Don't tell him I told you. He'll mean to speak with you soon. I'd not spoil his surprise."
Father .
Visenya's smile widened. "Of course." Her heart beat a tad faster at the notion. She'd not seen Robb in so long, and he was... Gods.
He’ll be the closest to home I’ve come. If only Arya could join him. Fa— Lord Stark wouldn’t allow that.
If only.
"Thank you." Visenya knew it was belated a smidge, but all the same she stopped their steps and wrapped Daenerys up in a hug. It was tight and warm, and Daenerys' softness made her heart flutter as she greedily basked in the embrace of her twin. The scent of lilac that hung around her always made her smile, as did the faint sweetness of the scented oils she used and the fruit she oft broke her fast with.
"I did nothing," Daenerys gave a giggle, a sound Visenya was sure she'd never tire of, and returned the hug. It was gentle, but strong, and so reassuring.
When the steps to the yard below grew nearer, and the voices of the menfolk therein grew louder, Visenya took in a breath; there would be staring, gaping mouths, lustful intent, and altogether too much unwanted attention. The thought alone made her skin prickle.
"Let's go see what they have for you." Daenerys pulled on her hand and skipped ahead, a jovialness about her that lightened the load of her previous thoughts.
Visenya had to hasten her own pace lest she fall behind and let slip Daenerys' hand. Thus, there they went, the quintessential Targaryen Princesses gracefully skipping down the stairs with giggles that did just as Visenya thought.
They had every single eye upon them, and the stares and whispers and the gaping mouths were in plenty.
How splendid.
Chapter 13: The Spars
Notes:
Here's part 13.
I think 14 will be dropping around the 13th-16th of this month, I hope you enjoy, and I look forward to responding to all of your lovely comments.
Thank you!!!
Chapter Text
Visenya's eyes scanned over the series of weapons critically. It was a finer castle-forged steel than Winterfell, and most of the weaponry was clearly of a higher quality… no, no just more ornate. Yes that was the difference. That was expected. She was a Princess of House Targaryen. It would be a slight upon the realm for her to be offered weapons of lesser quality or beauty.
"Do you dislike all that you see?" Daenerys' inquisitive eyes were locked upon her. "If you prefer, I could have Ser Barristan send for other options?"
Visenya shook her head, and her silver-gold hair flowed back and forth in waves. She'd not cut it since their arrival, and whilst that was perhaps a foolish notion given how unwieldy it'd become, the way Rhaenys had looked upon her, and the way Aegon had reacted to it, made her feel more… Targaryen. "It's of a good-enough make." Gaudy, but the craftsmanship was there; she wouldn't say that out loud. "I hope Father will allow Ser Loras to take me to the Street of Steel this sennight or moon. I would have my own weapons… or, as much mine own as they can be."
Daenerys tisked. "Rhaegar would see whatsoever you desire, purchased. He and Elia really intend on spoiling you for all the years they missed."
"As do you, sweet aunt." Visenya poked fun at her twin, and earned a smile that had her own lips curling up.
"How can't I?" Daenerys' free hand took up some of Visenya's errant strands and twisted them together, then pulled her closer by the length; the little gentle tug made her snicker and smack at the other girl. She'd acted just as Arya would. With a little giggle as she dodged, Daenerys spoke again, and in that honey-sweet, soft tone of hers. "We're the same. I would spoil you as much as I would myself. My lovely little niece."
"I suppose." Visenya allowed Daenerys to draw her near and pull her into a little half-hug. With all the menfolk already looking at them, there was nary a reason to deny the affection she'd come to love; it wasn't as if they could stare at her anymore intently, anyway. To think they thought themselves stealthy. "Ser Loras?" She sent a look over her shoulder, to the boyish young man in white who'd taken up position nearby.
"Yes, my Princess?" He smiled just as warmly at her as ever.
"What do you make of the few daggers present? Which two might serve best for me, do you think?" She kept her eyes trained on the young knight, not allowing herself a glimpse of the men watching their exchange.
Ser Loras sent a look Ser Barristan's way, and then the young knight stepped closer, until he was by Visenya's side and looking over the various choices laid out. She'd never seen so pensive a look upon the youthful face of the Knight of Flowers; how she'd laughed when first she'd heard the title, and then how adorable she'd thought it. A sweet name for a sweet and true knight.
"What of these two, Princess?" He picked up two that seemed of the exact same make, and ran a thumb down the 'blade' of one. Her heart had dropped, expecting him to have hurt himself, yet she saw no blood; she forgot they were blunted, engrossed as she'd been at the sight of steel. "Light and with little extra added. I should think these two would suit you well."
She took the daggers in her hands when offered by Ser Loras, feeling their weight and getting a feel for them. Then she tossed the one she'd been handed in the air with a flick, catching it by the hilt, and repeated the action several times over, getting a sense for the way it flipped and spun; there was a certain enjoyment too, given how long it’d been since last she’d been able to toy with a blade. "Mayhaps…
Visenya pondered the silence of Daenerys and Ser Loras, and looked up to find each had their eyes trained on her, surprise so very evident.
"Is something amiss?" Visenya felt a frown form, and her brows drew close. Had she done something wrong?
"How did you learn to do that?" Daenerys asked first, and the question had Ser Loras nod and echo it.
"You had me worried." Ser Loras' look turned inquisitive, and his eyes seemed to seek out the pommel of his blade. Mayhaps the boy in him wished to see if he could perform the same trick, but the knight in him won out. "More and more you impress me, Princess Visenya."
The words had her blush and look away. She had never been able to accept a compliment, especially one as sweet as that. So she spoke, answering the question he'd asked earlier. "I think these two will do." They were a nice pair, and fit well in her hands. Light, and easy enough to toss. "I'll practice with these 'til Father thinks me ready for live steel,” She set them down by her side and took up another dagger, a slightly bigger one with a thicker, broader blade and much finery to it.
Ser Loras stepped closer. "That would be an unwise choice, Princess. It would be easy enough to lose balance whilst fighting a larger opponent, and the weight would hinder your ability to throw the weapon, if you desired to do so."
The advice made her giggle, then she remembered how many eyes were on her, and set to right herself. "I don't believe Aegon or Rhaenys would appreciate it if I were to throw a dagger at them during our spar."
"I'd imagine not, Princess." Ser Loras grinned, and took a step back, taking up his old spot near Ser Barristan, whereupon the older knight nodded at the younger, seeming proud in how he'd conducted himself.
Visenya made to speak again, this time to Daenerys, but then she heard the sound of an approaching party. The clanking of armour and heavy footfalls drew closer, and she couldn't help but turn, her prior words forgotten; as she'd suspected, it was Aegon and Rhaenys, and the score and a half of men that trailed after them.
"You made a grand escape, little sister," Rhaenys said with a tut. Her violet eyes scanned over the choices and settled on the two daggers Visenya had selected. "Are those to your liking?"
"Aye." Visenya's eagerness drew forth the truest form of response she could give. One that was Northern, and had her 'accent' as heavy-sounding as ever. Quick as could be, she looked away as a familiar heat came to her face. Quieter, she spoke again. "These will do well… did you have a hand in the selection?”
Aegon raised the hand that wasn't wrapped 'round one of Rhaenys', who was much too busy fussing over her with little, wordless coos. "I would be responsible for that, little sister. Ever since first you made mention of fighting with two daggers, I sent out for a dozen of the best." His eyes fell to the two she'd chosen. They were amongst the more simple and plain, with a single ruby set into the hilts. "Mayhaps those are not what I expected you to choose, but still, they’re a fine make."
"No?" Visenya tilted her head, curious as to his reaction.
"I would have thought you'd pick the ones with the more ornate and colourful jewels. There’re a half dozen of them there." Aegon gestured to the row where her choice had previously lain. "They're more befitting a woman of your beauty."
Rhaenys gave a little series of nods in agreement. "Tell her the rest." Those words were meant for Aegon, who'd paused for a moment, seemingly lost in the Warrior-Princess Visenya was certain he was envisioning her as.
She didn’t mind all that much; her mood was too pleasant for his ogling to prove bothersome. Blunted as they may be, she had weapons in-hand, and unbecoming as the Dornish symbol might be, she wore armour.
Real armour the likes of which she imagined the original Visenya Targaryen wore.
Prompted, however, he spoke again; his eyes focused on naught but her the whole while. "We've more ornate ones ready to be made in the likeness of all that you've seen, should you wish it." He leaned forth, and took one up in his free hand. More words came forth as he admired one of the more ornate ones; the pommel had a pattern most beautiful etched into it. "The best smiths of King's Landing will work to have them made to match the ones you use for training to the smallest details, so there's nary a difference. We'll even have the hilts decorated with a design of your choosing... so long as it's more worthy of you than those that you chose to spar with."
"My choosing?" The idea had her heart flutter. To have something so special, and so unique… it would be amazing; like her Northern sword.
"Naturally, we'll be at your side when the visit you wish to make with Ser Loras sees this happen. We'll need tell you which we've worked with, and who best to purchase from." Rhaenys' grin was wide, and the look in her eyes so very telling of what such a trip would entail. "I'll also make sure you have a proper set of clothing made for this visit. I shan't have my lovely little sister seen by so many without looking the sight of a Valyrian Goddess."
Blush as she might, Visenya loathed when she was the centre of attention. All the better to have a dimly-lit, private and small-sized space where one could go unnoticed... but now, that was no longer her life. Every person would do as the many menfolk around her had and continued to do; steal glances betwixt their various spars or conversations, all trying to catch her eye, to win a smile or a mayhaps even a bit of praise on a blow they thought well-struck.
Visenya sighed and her gaze drifted back to her siblings. "We should begin soon."
"Eager?" Rhaenys' eyes glimmered with amusement.
"I am." Visenya's look went to the sword strapped to her elder sister's side. There was a spear not too far off to the side from where they stood, likely Rhaenys' true weapon. "I would see how I fare against you both."
Rhaenys and Aegon shared a glance and a laugh, and then Rhaenys spoke. "Who would you have first, baby sister? Me, or our dashing brother?"
Visenya considered the question, and then her eyes turned to that aforementioned 'dashing' brother of theirs. She didn't know him near so well as she knew Rhaenys. That was changing, to be certain, but it was likely he was the fiercer opponent, and whilst each would go easy on her, she half-thought Rhaenys wouldn't so much as touch her. Not with how covetous she seemed to be of Visenya's blemish-free skin and pretty face she oft made mention of. "I would see how I fare against Aegon."
Aegon's hand fell from Rhaenys' grasp as soon as Visenya's words were spoken. He gave a nod to Ser Darry, who began to have near the whole-yard cleared for their usage; whilst that was happening, he seemed to size her up. His violet eyes scanned her frame in a manner that made it seem he was seeing her for the very first time.
Mayhaps in a manner of speaking, he was.
"I'll not strike you hard, sister, but I expect you to strike with all your might. Armoured as I am, it'll do little and less... just don't aim to wound or see me maimed, if you would. I believe Rhaenys much prefers my handsome face intact, and she would be most upset with you if you were to see it ruined." Aegon gave a grin at the end of his little speech, and as he'd been when first she'd mentioned her love for dual-wielding daggers, he seemed so intrigued, so eager to see her skills.
Gods did it make her anxious; what if he bested her in the blink of an eye?
Rhaenys' response was missed, but by the laughter of Daenerys and Aegon, it'd been a jest.
There was a brief lul, then Aegon cleared his throat, and took a few steps back, into the dry-seeming dirt.
"Ready, sister?"
"Yes."
She was.
It had been queer to stand with so many onlookers as she stood opposite of Aegon, with two daggers in her hands. Even after Ser Darry had seen so many away, the thought of Daenerys, Rhaenys, two late-arriving Sand Snakes and the men of their guard, watching filled her with a sense of unease.
She shook her head as they'd taken their places, righting herself to the headspace she need be in for a spar, and then, Ser Barristan saw the bout start.
"Begin!"
Aegon, ever the warrior-prince, didn't hesitate to step forth. He swung his blade once, and the sound of it cutting through the air filled her ears, but she had no time to react, no time to even raise her blades.
His speed was so very quick.
With a gasp, she dodged the swing that would have hit her if she hadn't been as fast as she’d been, and her heart pounded. It'd been more than a moon, mayhaps two since last she'd truly had a bout, and since, she'd done naught but feast on the finest of foods, take steaming hot baths, or sit with her new family.
Aegon didn't immediately strike again. He jogged past her, then turned and raised his blade.
"Not as skilled as you let on, sister?" He sounded teasing, but his eyes held the fire she'd seen before in his spars. It wasn't as bright, and he, not as fierce, but all the same, she was fighting a Dragon Prince. "Perhaps we should have had Rhaenys go first."
That made her eyes narrow, and so Visenya adjusted the grip she had of her daggers. As he'd mentioned, he knew not her skill level, and thus seemed hesitant to strike too quickly or too strongly lest he hurt her despite the armour and padding that would lessen the blow.
A mistake, really. One she could exploit; the Southron were treacherous she'd heard time and time again, so too would she be.
Visenya waited for him to approach again, and when he did, she was ready.
"Do not tease me so." She ducked under his blade, and the wind so faintly whistled as his steel cut through the air above her; it wasn't quick and dangerous-sounding as it'd been with Ser Cletus. When she stood, she thrust a dagger forth. Aegon twisted to the side, and the tip of her blade barely scraped along his breastplate.
Aegon grinned, and stepped forth, swinging his sword as he made his advance once more. "You'll need be quicker."
Visenya backpedalled, feigning fear when really, she was thinking, calculating, planning her next move.
She was a Wolf of Winterfell, and no pup.
He lunged, slow and with a reluctance visible to even her in the midst of their fight, and so Visenya went low, launching herself with a violent burst of speed. She crashed into his midriff, and though she felt the force of his armour and the padding, it'd not been enough to keep her from bringing him to the ground given the lack of balance and care he'd taken.
Aegon had barely begun to fall when she'd righted herself, low as she'd already been, and brought a blade down on the flat of his sword; the weapon clattered from his grasp as she settled atop him, one leg on either side of his body with her weight keeping him ‘pinned’ as she settled astride him.
Visenya brought the edge of her second blade to his throat.
Nary a word could be said by Visenya or Aegon before the joyous laughter of Rhaenys and Daenerys rang out, loud and melodious as ever.
"Our little sister's fierce as I thought." Aegon pushed himself up even despite her weight atop him, and the two shared a glance. There was no anger in his eyes, only pride of sincerest kind, and surprise; she thought amusement present as well. "Well-done, Visenya. It would seem I underestimated you. Small as you might be, you're fierce as Quentyn whinged about."
Visenya broke that glance and leaned back, very aware of the closeness as well as the eyes of their guards, and their blood; the latter of which had begun to approach with little bursts of giggles and shared words.
As Rhaenys switched from sharing whispered words with Daenerys, to speaking loud enough for her siblings to hear, Visenya came to a total standing position.
"Well-done, little sister. That was impressive."
"She's skilled. I didn't expect it." Aegon took her offered hand, and came to a standing position himself, his violet eyes still taking her in. There was a hint of something she couldn't place, a glimmer she'd not seen in her other brothers. "Mayhaps I should spar with her more often."
"Over me?" Rhaenys raised a hand to her heart, feigning offence. That look came and went in a moment, replaced with a grin. "Another bout, Brother?"
Visenya agreed. "You asked for me to do my best. I'd expect the same of you." It brought her no small amount of annoyance to think he'd held back so much. "You'd better put forth effort this time."
"As you wish, sweet sister."
Aegon looked to the side, and had two boys with not so much as a sign of one hair on their faces come forth. One had a cloth, and the other, a wineskin. Aegon used the former, and took a generous drink from the latter, wiping away the sweat and dirt. He made to hand it back to the boy which he'd taken it from, but Rhaenys made a noise. It sounded half-whining, and half-pleading, and the look in her eyes had him roll his. "Go ahead."
Rhaenys placed upon his cheek the most princessly of kisses, and let Aegon raise the skin to her mouth. Her eyes went shut, and after a moment, she stepped away and passed it back to the boy who'd gone red. "Thank you, darling."
Aegon didn't speak; he merely returned to where he'd previously stood.
Daenerys went to her side before Visenya too went back to where she'd need to. "You were very impressive, my twin." She fawned over her, those small, pale hands plucking at the armour and checking over her. "It almost made me desire to take up a blade as you do... almost. I fear I'd not so much as take a few steps 'til exhaustion took me with all that you've on you."
Visenya shook her head. "If I prove able, so too would you."
They shared a look of the fondest kind, and a grin, but their moment was broken by Rhaenys clearing her throat.
It was time for her rematch with Aegon.
His stance was different. That much was so immediately clear by the way he moved, and his positioning. Aegon was no longer so hesitant. If anything, her showing and words had made known to him she could handle herself, and was no delicate, Southern flower to be handled with care. There were twin jolts of nervousness and excitement at the prospect of facing the Aegon that Ser Cletus and Ser Garlan had fallen to rather than the brother who wished not to harm so much as one silver-gold hair atop her head.
Rhaenys called out when neither made to move. "Start! I'll grow weary from all this standing 'round if you'll not!"
Her voice drew a chuckle from her shadow, Ser Jaime, and had Daenerys laugh, but both Visenya and Aegon were focused on one another.
Then, he strode forward as he'd done before, still as confident, but not quite as playful or half-hearted. The Prince was no fool; he knew the danger of his opponent now, even if he didn't know of her experience.
This time, she didn't wait.
Visenya's feet moved the moment she was able, and as quick as she could, she went to her right, avoiding the strike. A dagger lashed out, and she scored a strike on his breastplate, leaving a smudging mark that drew a noise of surprise from Aegon.
And then he struck her in the chest, the blow so hard that it sent her tumbling backward.
The dirt and the grass was far from soft, and as she landed, her breath was stolen. The pain wasn't too great, but it was enough to make her wince, and have her pause a moment to regain herself. Aegon was on her before she could stand. He pinned her, and the weight of him was so much that it was like being crushed by a rock. His knee dug into her side, and it was near painful as he'd kept her down.
"Yield, little sister." Aegon had a gleam in his eyes... and something darker as their breaths mixed and their faces neared. His sword was pressed against her throat. "I'd not see you fall again."
Visenya blinked at him through narrowed eyes, but she was no fool. This fight was over.
Aegon had her beat, and with a blow she'd not so much as seen coming 'til it was much too late. Gods, the power behind it... the strike was worse than most any Robb would give her. "I yield."
Aegon pulled the blade back, and rolled off of her, standing as he'd done with a grin. He offered his hand. "That was a good fight."
Visenya was grateful for the help. "As you say." She dusted herself off, and her gaze drifted to Rhaenys. "My sister's turn." She hoped none of the disappointment she felt in herself showed; Aegon was even better than she’d thought from watching him.
Speaking of said sister, Rhaenys and Daenerys each made their approach, the latter with worried, awed eyes whilst the former seemed far more complex to read, such were the myriad of emotions in her eyes.
"Are you well?" Daenerys separated from Rhaenys once she'd grown close enough. Those small, soft hands were on her again. "That was a blow."
"It was." Visenya nodded, and let out a breath. "But I'm not hurt, sister."
Daenerys' face scrunched as she continued to worry over her. "You're certain?" she turned those typically-sweet eyes that matched her own to Aegon, and saw them narrowed.
But before any word could be said, Rhaenys was the one to speak, a hand on Daenerys' shoulder. "You were very good, little sister." The praise was unexpected, and the smile was no less so. "Very good, indeed."
This time, it was Visenya's turn to scrunch up her nose. "Mayhaps the first time, when Aegon held back." she huffed and looked away as inwards thoughts focused on training in the sparring yard took hold. "I proved no great foe for our brother."
"I'd not say that." Aegon took up one hand, tossing aside their sparring blades. "You're better than many I've faced, and you show nary a sign of fear."
Daenerys' face further scrunched up. "Surely that's something that need change."
"We can discuss what sweet 'Senya need change later. I'd face my little sister the way she is," Rhaeny took her other hand, and with a gentle pull, saw her taken from Aegon. "Now, let us begin, sweet sister — you needn't tell me not to hold back as you did our Aegon either. I saw the game you played with him, and I know you're no defenseless maiden."
Daenerys had been pulled away by Aegon, the two speaking amongst themselves, and so Visenya sought out her daggers.
As it turned out, the good, kind and ever-so-sweet Ser Loras had picked them up and brought them back to her, along with Rhaenys' spear; she'd been too distracted or unbothered to get it herself.
"Thank you, Ser Loras," Visenya made certain to show him the genuine smile his kindness deserved.
"Of course, princess." Loras was quick to return it, and then, with a nod to Rhaenys, he stepped back to a suitable distance; there, he could observe her and the area. In little and less time,
Visenya took the moment before she'd turn and face her new sister, to take a look around the courtyard. It was no longer the guardsmen alone that kept the four Targaryens company. Two of the Sand Snakes, Tyene and Nymeria she believed them to be, lounged in an alcove. They watched her, and the sight made her feel a prickle of nerves.
Just how long have they been there?
She hoped not long enough for them to have seen Aegon handle her with the ease that he had.
“Does your mind wander, ‘Senya?” Rhaenys called back her attention, and when Visenya gave it, she saw her sister leaning against the spear Ser Loras had handed her. “Mayhaps you’d prefer to face Tyene or Nymeria?”
Visenya shook her head. "No." She'd not seen much of either girl, and knew not whether or not they were skilled, but if they'd been allowed to spar, and were here, then surely it had to mean they were good. If not at Aegon's level, then near to Rhaenys'. "It's just a little difficult to not take note of the many watching eyes. There's nary a moment of privacy here."
"They're our family." Rhaenys shrugged, and twirled the spear in her grasp. "They'll watch ours as we'd theirs. I'm sure our Uncle would've loved to have watched you too, were he not asleep with Ellaria... and perhaps another or two."
"What?" Visenya's eyes snapped from thew two Sand Snakes, and back over to her sister; her gaze focused entirely thereon.
Surely Rhaenys didn't mean what it sounded like.
"Uncle Oberyn's a very free man, little sister."
That made her frown, and her eyes narrowed. "He's your uncle. Do you not find it odd that he should bed other women, even the mother of his children, as he does?" She found their public ‘affection’ and the newest fact she’d learned beyond perverse.
"Odd? No." Rhaenys chuckled. "I'd have been disappointed in him were it not the case. I'd prefer him be happy with all those he’s joined with than miserable with one he has no interest in. Uncle Doran knows by now that the Viper needs no other snakes save for the Sands."
In the queerest of ways, Visenya found that quite endearing. Oberyn had seemed kind enough, and his daughters spoke of their sire in reverence, each having nothing but good to say about him.
"Are we done talking?" Rhaenys puffed out her cheeks. "I'll need lay down come soon enough."
Visenya adjusted the grip she had over her daggers, and nodded. "We are."
"Good." Rhaenys' grin grew, and those violet eyes of hers flashed. "Now, let us dance, little sister."
One of Visenya's blades deflected a thrust from Rhaenys' spear, and then she went low, slashing the weapon in her opposite hand.
Her sister moved quick, and the attack was dodged with ease despite how swift Visenya thought it to be. As Rhaenys had said when first their spar began, she seemed to very literally dance around the yard. Each thrust, swing or dodge would happen with a flowing, graceful motion that drew jealousy from Visenya.
Rhaenys moved a short distance away, and her spear was spun once more. "You're quite good." She smiled, and it was most sweet despite attire and setting both. "And faster than I'd thought, but alas, I'm swifter still, baby sister, and my reach is superior. Should I take you now?"
The ease which Rhaenys seemed to think she could defeat Visenya made her eyes narrow dangerously. “You can’t.”
Rhaenys didn't waste a single second after those words left her lips. Her spear came for her helmeted head, and it was only thanks to the quickness of her reflexes that she didn't receive a spear ringing her head as a bell. Gods, did she hate when Robb would strike her there for that very reason and Lord Stark, he'd been most mad the first — and only — time he'd witnessed it.
Visenya lept back when a follow-up blow nearly struck her. Close as it'd been, her heart beat rapidly. The blood pounded in her ears. This was what she'd missed. Well, save for the fact that she was on the defensive. The spear came and came, and no matter how quick she'd been before, Rhaenys was quicker still. Her footwork was something beyond her; a true Princess that knew dance far better than Visenya herself did.
A dagger came out to meet a spear thrust and see it pushed aside with a trembling of her arm. Visenya was sweating by this point. Her long, silver-gold hair clinging to her skin where it’d come loose, and causing an annoying, near-stinging feeling as it scratched there against. Their spar had morphed into a game of movements. One that Visenya knew she was destined to lose if she proved unable to get close enough to Rhaenys to defeat her.
Her other arm came up to deflect a blow from a mailed fist that caught Visenya completely by surprise. A kick came next as Rhaenys did a twirl one might see a lord do to his lady, only with her leg higher up; improperly so. Visenya made to move back, but she'd moved in close upon her two deflections, especially that which saw one of her arms push away one of Rhaenys'.
And so Rhaenys' boot came down and slammed into her chest, kicking her to the dirt.
Once more, Visenya's breath was knocked out of her that day.
Once more, she'd been bested.
But, this time, there was a hint of satisfaction; it'd taken longer for Rhaenys to beat her than it had Aegon, and unlike their brother, her sister hadn't held so much as portion of her skill hidden. She'd truly been outmatched, plain and simple, and if she'd been able to use her full range of motion, Visenya had no doubt in her mind that Rhaenys would've ended it even quicker. Never had she thought the spear or its wielder so dangerous.
"I'd have you yield." Rhaenys' words were breathless as she came to stand over Visenya, the spear resting on Visenya's chest.
Visenya laid back in the dirt, enjoying the breeze that swept down and caressed her. After so much effort, and with the heat bearing down on her, the end of this round was more than welcome. "I yield, sister."
"You're certain you'd like to continue?" Daenerys' words were as worried as her post-spar checkover had been, but Visenya couldn't fault her.
"I am."
She wasn't done. Not quite yet. There was more she still had in her.
Aegon chuckled, and gave her a smile. "I'd have another turn against our little dragon, Rhae. Mayhaps you'd allow me?"
"I had another idea." Rhaenys looked betwixt her siblings. "You, brother, against Visenya and I both. I’m sure it’d be a most wondrous show for Dany and our cousins."
Visenya, who had been more than content to let Daenerys fuss and dab at her with a cool, wet cloth as she lounged in the shade, perked up at the suggestion. Then she sank back as Daenerys raised a cup of wine to her mouth.
"Drink." Her twin disliked so very much whensoever Rhaenys or Aegon had struck her, even if Visenya herself had nearly been glad to receive said blows. “I’ll have a hot bath run for you as soon as you’ve fought your last spar — soon, I hope.”
Visenya made to swallow the sweet, refreshing wine, gulping it down with long, greedy draws, only for a small bit of it to spill down her chin. Her eyes widened, and she made to wipe it away, but Daenerys was quick, and used her thumb.
"Careful, 'Senya." Her twin chastised her.
Flushed from exertion as her cheeks already were, Visenya smiled at the touch, and her eyes locked on Daenerys'. "Apologies, sister."
At her side, Aegon shifted, and so too did Rhaenys. The two shared a look of challenge, and then, they turned back to the twins.
"Shall we begin, sisters?" Aegon spoke, his voice low, but not enough for her to ignore it; she didn't miss how his eyes only briefly looked at their aunt before they swept over her in detail. His gaze made it seem as if he desired to commit her every detail to memory.
Clearing her throat, Visenya reluctantly sat up. Daenerys' pampering would, unfortunately, be concluded for the time being. "Yes." Visenya stood next, stretching and taking her daggers as she did so. Gods, did it feel good to have weapons in-hand. Finally, she could work out her frustrations; her wolf's blood, Nuncle Ned had called it when she or Arya would earn a chastening.
A hand pulled at her wrist. One large enough to encompass the whole thereof, albeit at the thinnest point.
Visenya's violet eyes traced the arm to its owner.
Rhaenys.
Her elder sister in near-matching armour was peering down at her. "Come." Those dark eyes flashed. "Let us show our brother what Princesses can be capable of."
And, as Rhaenys led her towards the centre of the courtyard, Visenya's heart beat in excitement. This would be the fight of the day, mayhaps even the whole moon.
She'd not let it be a disappointment
She'd not be a disappointment.
Rhaenys thrusted at Aegon, and as he reacted to their older sister's attack and follow-up strike, Visenya went in low. The blade in her dominant hand lashed out.
The tip of her dagger struck Aegon's right greave as he yanked his leg back. It'd been a glancing blow, but it was a blow nonetheless; already, one more than she'd thought she'd land this bout. It didn't go unanswered either.
Aegon, despite the two on one, had shown nary a sign of discomfort. His movements were swift, precise and with a grace that rivalled his sister's, or Daenerys'.
Visenya barely avoided a slash of his sword. As she ducked, Rhaenys swung her spear in a wide, overhead arc.
It was a blow that Aegon couldn't block or dodge; the sheer weight and speed of the strike made it so. She thought that would be it, that together, she and Rhaenys might see victory, but Aegon brought a hand from the pommel of his sword and threw aside her strike with his plate-covered forearm.
The move took Visenya by such surprise that she failed to move in time.
Aegon's sword clashed against Rhaenys' spear. He kicked out with a steel-clad foot and Visenya was knocked onto her arse.
She grunted.
Aegon and Rhaenys both took the moment of distraction to pull away from one another; the former couldn't attack whilst the latter remained poised to strike in defence of her little sister.
I can do better! I can't be the fault for our loss.
Visenya was quick to roll over and push herself to her feet. Her body ached. There wasn't an inch of her that wasn't covered in sweat. But, she'd not yield nor falter. The grip she had of her daggers tightened, and her resolve steeled as she made to move to Aegon’s side.
Her eyes flicked betwixt the two as she did so.
Aegon was breathing with little effort, his eyes doing as hers were, and examining with a cool, confident smirk. His stamina seemed endless, and he hadn't taken a single major blow thus far; one could see he meant to let this fight last.
Rhaenys, her elder sister, was in much the same state. There was little sign of weariness in her, though, that might have been attributed to the fact that she'd spent a great deal less energy than either of her siblings.
Visenya’s style of fighting was certainly the one that took the most effort, and it had the greatest chance for loss.
Sudden as the viper that was their uncle Oberyn, Aegon struck at Visenya and shook her from her observations.
She barely got a dagger between his blade and her wrist as the latter made to alleviate one of her arms of its possession. The clang of steel upon steel rang out.
It was then that Rhaenys went on the offensive. She thrust, and twirled, her spear coming at Aegon's side, and then his front as she stepped closer.
Visenya pushed his blade off of hers by way of an angle, using his strength against him. It was the only thing she had time to do. She couldn't risk a strike to her body, Gods, not if his attacks were swift as they were, and not if they had so much power behind them.
Aegon turned the blade from whence she'd deflected it, and slashed at her chest.
Her arm came up, but too slow, and the tip of his sword bit into her armour's elbow. She grimaced, and stumbled back as a bruise was very likely to be formed from the blunt-tipped strike.
Aegon's attack had been strong, but not without consequence
Rhaenys had spun, and the blunt end of her spear hit Aegon in the gut. He grunted, and took a step back.
Visenya felt a hand grasp her shoulder, and she was pulled back by her older sister just as Aegon's free hand made to grab at where she'd been. If the blows were anything to go by, once she'd be in-hand of his, there'd be no chance of escape.
She spun, aided by Rhaenys, and saw her dagger glance off his chestplate. It'd been a good attempt, but not one that was enough to strike a winning blow. Her second attack was more of the same, and Rhaenys was forced to move lest the counter-attack Aegon sent her way be successful.
Visenya blinked rapidly when a droplet of sweat rolled into her eye, and her vision blurred. Her chest heaved, and her grip on her daggers wavered. She had ridden or sparred for longer, so why now did she seem so tired after nary four bouts?
Aegon dashed forth with a burst of speed that still managed to surprise her despite the earlier use thereof. His sword came for her helmeted head.
Visenya dropped to the ground, and felt the rush of wind from his blade passing above her. She rolled forward, and made to get to her feet.
A foot slammed into her thigh, knocking her to a knee at the same time Rhaenys' wood-made spear was yanked from her grasp.
Visenya's teeth gritted and her eyes clenched shut as she was kicked back. Her breath was gone.
The sky was all she saw when she opened her eyes next.
There was a brief pause. A moment of silence, and then she heard a loud clatter, followed by two others.
She could only watch as Aegon's sword was kicked away by the man himself, and Rhaenys' spear tossed from his left hand to his right as he aimed it at its previous owner. The grin Aegon sported as he looked betwixt his fallen and disarmed sisters was most arrogant, but well deserved.
"My victory, I take it?" That grin he wore grew larger.
Visenya would've answered, had her breath not been so gone. As it was, she had all she could to rise and — with as much grace as one might muster whilst exhausted and dirt covered — saw her daggers back to their spots at her waist.
"This time. I do think this is the longest it's taken you to best me, Brother. And to think it took a show of strength rather than skill." Rhaenys smiled, her eyes flashing, and then she chuckled, clearly done teasing Aegon as she moved to Visenya's side. "We work well together, little sister. I should think in little and less time the three of us could fight as one."
"Mayhaps." Visenya lacked certainty. Her heart was still pounding much too hard, and there was a stiffness in one of her legs. That overwhelming heat that had the air shimmering, for lack of a better word, likely helped the matter not.
Her brother shifted, and then, Aegon was the next to approach her side; Daenerys, for her sake, was already moving most expeditiously her way, and with a new, wet cloth in-hand. When her eyes went back to her brother, she saw his grin was still large, but there was a softer quality to it now. It'd very clearly been difficult for him, especially at first, to strike her, but she'd not allow him to treat her like a fragile thing. She'd be the warrior her siblings were, deserving of her mother's wolf-blood... and Father's dragon-blood.
"You're a fierce one, 'Senya. I half-thought you'd bite me at one point." Aegon had more to say, but lacked the chance, for Rhaenys nestled into his side and cut him off.
Her tone when words came forth, low and honeyed as the cakes she'd had for breakfast, saw Visenya squirm and lean back as Daenerys' grew nearer. "You think the wolf in our sister would come out in the midst of sparring? I should think they bite elsewhere."
Aegon saw an arm 'round Rhaenys' waist, and shook his head at Visenya. "Our sister and her teasing — I can't say I'm unhappy that you're as oft her target as I."
“Please,” Rhaenys waved her free hand, completely and utterly dismissive. “I know you’re as fond as her flushed cheeks as I. She’s as a doll, or the Maiden given flesh. I’ve wondered how pink we might pro—”
"Aegon, Rhaenys." Daenerys' voice was the sweetest of scolds as she finally joined them with soft steps and a soft visage. "Leave our 'Senya be. She needs rest and a meal, and I would see to her needs. Come, Sister."
Visenya, eager to flee from any sort of conversation that had to do with her, biting and 'the wolf in her', let her twin guide her away.
As she did, she smiled; dirt-covered, undoubtedly bruised, and sweat-drenched as she was, Visenya liked to imagine she'd proven herself to her siblings and the few others that'd watched.
If only horse or bow would follow.
Visenya scrunched up her nose. Rhaenys’ words of warning in regards to Viserys were still quite fresh in her mind, and yet, Daenerys had opted to have him join the pair of them for the meal she’d made mention of back in the sparring yard. She found that queer, but she supposed it made sense for her to get to know this newly-found uncle of hers… even if he might share the same desire for her that Aegon seems to.
Aegon and Rhaenys both, mayhaps — would my sister be so sinful?
“Why’re you scrunching your nose up?” Daenerys’ slid into the space at her side, now in a ‘fresh’ dress since the last had been so dirty from the scant few score steps she’d taken through the yard.
When that went unanswered for nary a second’s time, her twin took to poking at that supposedly scrunched-up nose of hers.
She was able to do so all of thrice before the still-armoured Visenya who’d been lounging lengthwise atop the plush, fabric-covered furniture pounced at her. In little and less time, the pair were squabbling as she and Arya used to, with hands going to sides for tickling and prodding thereat; luckily for ‘Senya, the armour made her the untickleable, and so she had her twin at her mercy once her strength overwhelmed Daenerys’ softness.
“Yield, sister?” Visenya made her best attempt at Aegon’s voice.
“Yes! Yes, please!” Dany writhed under her, squirming and trying her hardest to dislodge Visenya from atop her. She failed. “Y-yield! Y— Gods! ”
Visenya pulled back only then, when Daenerys’ eyes rolled and the first tear rolled down her cheek. She’d never seen her twin so pink of face and meek.
How can any compare me to her?
There seemed no sense to such comparisons. “Sister?” Visenya had leaned back further, her rear resting atop her calves and feet; she fixed Daenerys with the sweetest look she could muster, going so far as to bat her eyes before they drifted down to her apparel — they returned to Dany’s fast enough. “Help me get out of this? I fear the sweat might fuse it to me otherwise.”
Dany wrinkled her nose. She leaned in not a second later, and gave a very loud sniff of Visenya’s upper-body.
One that saw the latter go wide-eyed freeze.
Then, Dany giggled and stood up, and grabbed at her sister's hand, pulling her to her feet with no small amount of effort. "Come. Let's get you out of it. I'd like my sister not 'stinking' of sweat — your skin's much too fine to see pimpled thereby."
"I can bathe my own self on occasion." Visenya had no annoyance or real protest in her voice as Daenerys began to lead her to a basin, the latter calling to Ser Barristan for hot water to be brought to her chambers.
As Daenerys began to aid her with the straps and other pieces of apparel that’d been ‘fitted’ to her following said call, Visenya stayed stock still, only occasionally shifting a limb of twisting her body when prompted. Her twin was thorough and tender, and as she peeled away one of ‘Senya’s bracers, she giggled.
That made Visenya blink in confusion, then, embarrassment; was her smell that… ripe? She couldn’t stand not knowing. “What is it?” Visenya turned her head so as to catch Daenerys’ eyes… and almost immediately, saw her nose swipe that of Daenerys’.
“Your hands are the same as mine own, yet they wield a weapon better than I could ever dream possible — twins we might be, you’re special.” Daenerys shook her head when ‘Senya made to comment, her gaze sharpening and leaving no room for disagreement. “I’ll not hear otherwise. I’m your aunt too. Means you have to listen to me.”
She sounds so much like Arya. Gods.
If not Daenerys alone, the joint thought of two she loved so very much made a small, foolish and — this she blamed on the Targaryen women — girlish smile come to her face. Gone was the lopsided or small grin, replaced by a look demure as she oft needed to be.
“Well?” Daenerys arched a brow, daring defiance with the most dimple-ridden smile of the day.
Visenya could but raise her one free hand whilst Daenerys worked over the other. “I shan’t say a word in defiance. I swear it, Auntie.”
“No,” Daenerys’ voice was petulant and the word hung in the air. “I alone get to abuse the title. You have to call me sister or twin.”
“Is that a demand, Aun—”
The tickling resumed.
Visenya giggled as soon as Daenerys reappeared from whence she’d gone. Her twin had dressed to be just that, down to the necklace they wore ‘round their pale necks, and the way their hair flowed down their backs.
"Do you mean to fool Viserys?" Visenya wondered if not that, then why else might Dany have opted to look so similar.
"Mayhaps if he's deep in his cups." Daenerys shrugged and drew closer, taking up one of Visenya's hands as she slid into the space at her side. "I... It's rather embarrassing to admit, but I'd always desired a sister and whilst Rhaenys made not to fill that role, you're perfect for it. My sweet, accented twin."
Visenya slapped at Daenerys' hand as the latter cooed and gushed over her, pinching at her cheeks and running her hand through the loose, silver-gold hair that was Visenya's.
She didn't protest the touches, though. Daenerys' were always pleasant as could be. "Do I really have a northern accent?" There wasn't worry in her tone, only… curiosity? Mayhaps her roots ran stronger than she’d thought, but she wished not for another reason to stand out.
"Yes! A very pretty one at that. I long to hear you speak our true tongue." Daenerys was quick to both assure and sweet talk her, her fingers going from the top of Visenya's head, to her neck and the collar of her dress to pull it up a smidge. "When your first lesson happens later thi—"
"Prince Viserys!" A voice boomed, causing Daenerys and Visenya alike to jolt; the pair's eyes snapped to the door as it pushed open a second later, the figure of the king's brother appearing thereafter.
"Ah, Daenerys, and... Daenerys?" Viserys' steps into the room stopped so suddenly that he stumbled as his eyes flicked between the two sitting upon the plush furniture and a mountain of pillows.
"Good evening, Uncle." Both Visenya and Daenerys greeted him.
As soon as Daenerys said as much, Visenya realised her twin wished to make a game of it more than she'd initially alluded to. She would play along.
"Which of you is which?" Viserys turned then to the men of the Kingsguard that stood on either side of the door, and without waiting for either Visenya or Daenerys to speak, he called to them. "Sers. Tell me true, which is my sister and which is my niece?"
Ser Loras and Ser Barristan looked into the room whilst the rest of their household guard remained still as stone.
Impatient, Viserys gave a beckoning gesture. "Come in, come in, and tell them apart for me, if you'd please. I'm unsure if I'm seeing double or nay."
Loras, who'd been the first to move, stepped inside and took a cursory look betwixt the pair of Targaryens. Visenya's smile was a large one, her hands clasped tightly at her stomach, her posture straight and eyes wide; Daenerys, meanwhile, had chosen to wear a most demure smile, her head tilted down and hands in her lap.
Visenya could see it clear as the light of day that the 'man' had it figured out, somehow.
When her eyes sought out Ser Barristan's nary a moment later, they caught a smile tugging at the old Ser's lips. It seemed each Kingsguard knew their charge better than Viserys knew either, enough so that, despite the deception, they could tell which was which — she’d need ask how that was later.
But before either could give answer to her uncle, Daenerys rose with the prettiest of pouts on her face. "You couldn't tell 'Senya and I apart, Brother? How cruel."
Viserys' face had been growing more and more perplexed the longer it took for the answer to be revealed, but upon Dany's words, he laughed and took a step further into the room. "Ah, my apologies. You're as one in the same — wine? Good wine?" With the mystery over, his eyes seemed to glint as he sought out what seemed to be his greatest love.
Daenerys shook her head when Viserys made to reach for it. "None for me, thank you."
"Nor me." Visenya's eyes drifted to Viserys' face when he looked at her.
"You both abstain?" He reached for the wine as his question hung in the air, his hand brushing Dany's aside as he grabbed the nearest cup. "But no matter, more for myself — Dornish too. Splendid. It's their finest export, did you know?"
Visenya didn't, but wine was never her fancy. Ale or mead, that was preferable.
As he lapped at it as a dog might in the imitation of a tasting, a thought ran through her that seemed the same as when last she’d met him.
He’s most queer.
“Visenya sparred with Aegon and Rhaenys earlier this morn, Brother.” Daenerys made mention of the happening as if it were normal, and as she did, she made her way back to Visenya, reclaiming her spot at her side; Ser Barristan and Ser Loras did the same, returning to their posts.
Viserys hummed.
His eyes drifted from Daenerys, to her, and back. He took another, longer sip from the cup. Then, a third.
By the fourth, the cup was half empty.
"A real Visenya then — very good. Very good." Viserys nodded a half-dozen times, his silver-gold hair that seemed so similar to hers, Daenerys, and Aegon's swaying betwixt those nods. "Means less reason for Rhaegar to have me in the yard."
Visenya sent a curious look Daenerys' way. Her twin, however, didn't see it, for her own eyes were fixed on Viserys.
"Did you win, then, Niece?" There was a note of curiosity in his voice, but nothing like how his eyes seemed to sparkle at the idea.
"I had a victory." Visenya didn't hide the smile that tugged at her lips at the thought of Aegon beneath her; she might've lost the follow-up match, but for that first, when he'd thought so little of her, she'd bested him and saw him helpless. At her mercy, for a change. "Rhaenys and I nearly had another against Aegon, but the two of us are new to working together, and he's much quicker than I had thought. And more powerful too — more so than one might think when looking at his frame."
Robb, younger as he may be and smaller thereby, seemed as if he'd grown into a far sturdier man than her new brother.
Viserys laughed, a sound that was akin to a bark. He was already pouring himself a new cup of wine, and when he was finished, he'd taken a swig that took the top third from it before he'd so much as set it down. "My nephew is slight as I was at that age. He has his unique strength, 'tis true, but the grace is all Rhaegar's. If not for the silver, one could easily mistake him for a Dornishman. The only difference is that my nephew has the temper of a dragon, whereas the Dornish, only their supposed 'passion'."
Visenya shifted in her seat. "That's rather unkind, Uncle." How strange it was that she should take up Aegon's cause despite the great deal of worry she felt towards him. Yet, Viserys' words were harsh, and she saw not how her brother could have such words said about him; since first she'd seen him, she'd thought him every bit the Prince as had been said.
"It is." Daenerys seemed to agree, and like when she grew defensive of Visenya, there was that same stern, scalding look about her. "They are our kin, Viserys. Our lovely nieces and nephews, like Visenya. Be kind. Be respectful. And keep your wits." Those final words were spoken almost in warning.
"I jest, sister, I jest. The gods know I love all our family. We're dragons — who else might we love but ourselves and one another?" Viserys grinned when the servants' arrival was made known, each arriving with platters laden with food."Might we eat? I'll admit, since midday yesterday, I've had naught but the finest of wines. My belly is empty as a beggar's cup."
That ripped a snort from her, and then she cast her eyes towards Daenerys. What did her twin think of Viserys' words and behaviour, she wondered.
The answer was harder to gather than she'd have thought, for Daenerys had a most queer look about her. One that said she was not happy, nor displeased, just...
Confused.
It was as if the words he spoke were ones he'd not say lest he was especially drunk or displeased by something.
"We may." Daenerys' hand saw Visenya rise as her twin did, the latter leading the way.
They were silent as they made to sit, each by the other.
Viserys made not to join them until a servant came and pulled a chair out for him, and by the time the man sat, he'd finished yet that second cup he'd poured. It was a feat that would have endeared him to many a man in the north, were it not for the silver-gold hair he sported, or the purple eyes that oft went with it.
Visenya's brows furrowed then, her Uncle's words left to the back of her mind as she thought of those same Northmen, some of whom had acted the part of her guard; honourable and pleasant, they'd been.
But what would they think of her now? She was a Targaryen, the family so many disliked for the losses they'd suffered or the Starks they'd murdered.
What would father and Robb think?
The thought of Robb made her stomach clench, and though she had no reason to, she hoped he wouldn't think her a traitor. Would that she could spend the bulk of her time with the Starks, in a place where heat and sun don't see one burnt, and where the stench of so many Southron doesn't spoil the air.
Gods, how she missed the scent of the Godswood.
"You seem a thousand leagues away, Visenya. Lost in thought, are we?" Viserys' voice tore her from those thoughts, and she looked to find him smiling.
She returned the smile with a nod. One that was more stiff than she'd meant. "I'm afraid so, Uncle. The tourney is soon to begin, and I have little desire to be gawked at by the masses. Those 'few' present here in the Red Keep stare enough at Aegon, Rhaenys and I whensoever we walk as is."
Viserys laughed. He leaned back in his chair, his arm stretching across its back, his legs kicking out before him. "And you expect that to stop? They're always the same. A new face means a new object of fascination. Some will love you, some will despise you, and others will want your attention for reasons beyond your understanding. But all will stare, forever. We're the blood of the Dragon, of Old Valyria, we are as gods to all others — you, Dany and I especially."
"The looks have persisted since first I can remember. I care not for them, but a time will come in which you grow accustomed to them." Daenerys' hand squeezed her own, then she nodded to a nearby servant, who began to add various foodstuffs to their plates; she hadn't realised how ravenously hungry she was until the smells and sights greeted her, for her eyes immediately snapped to the thickest cut of meat — a cut of what seemed to be boar.
"A time will come where you're glad to have the masses stare at you." Viserys spoke matter-of-factly as he saw a servant butter a slice of bread. "I suppose you'd have been gladder were you a Prince." He paused then, and scratched at his chin as he gestured for his cup to be topped-off.
Daenerys, for her part, hung her head and rolled her eyes. It seemed his words surprised her not.
Viserys was a man that spoke his mind, so it seemed. She'd thought him simply strange in action and word, but it seemed there was, very simply, something quite peculiar about him. He seemed, well, not simple, but a man whose tongue was as fast as his hands when it came to wine, and his eyes were always searching the room; erratic was a good word, and untrustworthy was another. Not out of spite, but out of that inability to stop his tongue from wagging as alcohol loosened it.
"Honeyed cakes!" Daenerys' words shook Visenya from another round of runaway thoughts, her gaze flicking towards a platter being set at her and her twin's side.
"I'll take one!" The words burst from Visenya's mouth before she could stop them, and she didn't even know if she wanted them, but she was suddenly reminded of the sweets that Robb would steal from the kitchens and bring to her Tower. Lady Catelyn desired not for her, Sansa or Arya to grow fat, lest a man not wish to take them as a bride.
Robb hadn't cared in the slightest.
Daenerys' amusement and Viserys' enthrallment by way of a pretty serving maid encouraged Visenya.
And so she grabbed another; that Wolfish hunger post-spar needed to be sated, and muscle gained, if she desired to best her siblings
Chapter 14: The Wolf
Notes:
Here we are, the next chapter will be released within 14 days! Thank you, and as always, I love our interactions in the comments!
Chapter Text
Visenya spoke to Ser Loras the moment she was two turns away from her twin's chambers.
"Is Viserys oft like that, Ser?" Her eyes sought out Ser Loras', the pair's walk taking them through the halls with a new destination in-mind; the library.
Tourney day it may be, Visenya had been informed it'd see her first High Valyrian lesson earlier on. Beautiful as the language sounded, and intrigued as she was to know what words the Targaryens whispered whilst she was nearby, she knew it would be a long and arduous task to speak it with the same ease as they do.
Ser Loras' lips pursed after a few seconds of that stoic mask the boy had attempted to wear fell, and a sigh followed thereafter. "He has been... as he is, Princess, since first I met him." He looked at the guards that followed after them, and at a kitchen wench with her head bowed as she passed, before looking back to Visenya. "I would say not to let it trouble you, Princess. I fear he's a man who cannot be understood, or predicted. Not lest you reference the company of women or the wine he loves."
"And in the yard, Ser? Have you got the measure of him?" It'd be a lie if she didn't say her curiosity was piqued. Aegon was, evidently, very skilled, and Rhaenys as well. Father had to good, of course, so that left her uncle.
"Prince Aegon and the King best him in every bout I've seen, Princess." The answer came quick as a flash of lightning, and Visenya found herself unsurprised by the result. Aegon and the King had a sense of agility and grace that her uncle seemed to lack despite his words. The energy each had was greater too, and far more commanding. "I've heard he's of a similar quality to Princess Rhaenys, though the two have never sparred."
Visenya frowned. That meant Viserys was less talented than his kin... and he'd not been allowed to spar her sister.
"Why?" She lowered her voice when a pair of manservants — both with their eyes going wide as plates when they saw her — walked by.
"The King and Prince Aegon allow it not." Ser Loras had nary another word to say on that matter, but there was another topic he wished to see brought up. "Princess, if it please you, I have news I'd meant to share with you earlier."
Visenya turned her head, her brows raised and lips pursed. "News, Ser?"
"I was meant to inform you that a ride was authorised, if you so desire. The King's aware of your fascination with horses and riding, and has given permission, so long as suitable notice is given and a guard’s assembled."
Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of mounting a swift mare or a fresh, and energetic gelding. Then her face soured.
"Who petitioned him for permission, Ser? I thought the few streets mentioned all I'd be permitted." Visenya dreaded what answer she might hear.
Ser Loras blushed then. The boyish knight breaking the gaze he'd held since he'd begun speaking.
"Ser Loras?" Visenya reached out one slight, pale hand and rested it on his arm. The flowing fabric of her heavy dress was cool against her skin, and the silk, smooth as ever; the coolness of the steel that he wore was a nice contrast, and her thumb brushed over the immaculately made armour all Kingsguard wore.
It was of such a quality compared to any made in the North.
"I did, Princess… as did Princess Daenerys," There was an audible swallow, and Ser Loras' eyes darted around once more.
It dawned on her that the good, kind Ser Loras was nervous. Mayhaps he thought he overstepped, or reprimanded. Gods, he was adorable. Like Bran, if only older.
Visenya squeezed his arm gently, and offered him a small, grateful smile.
"I thank you for it, Ser. I would gladly take a ride. Where did you have in mind? I know the area not."
She was a Targaryen, and yet, had only so much freedom; still, she could not let an opportunity such as this go to waste. If she were lucky, it'd not be but one ride, but as many as she desired; of course a grand guard would be sent, and she would have to stay within a certain radius, but that would mean she would not have to rely on the Targaryens for her enjoyment. Were they especially kind, she'd take Rickon with her.
How he'd love the fresh open air and flower-filled forest. He’d grow all dirty, dig around for bugs and bound around like the wolfling he was. Already, she grew happy at naught but the thought.
Ser Loras smiled back at her, his confidence seemingly returned.
"Wherever you desire, Princess. I only wish to see you pleased." His words were so earnest, and his smile so pure, Visenya could do naught but return it.
What had she done to deserve one of the few, true Sers of the South?
Visenya furrowed her brow when she came upon the empty library.
No tutor stood awaiting her. No books had been spread, and no parchments had been laid out so far as she could see.
"Do you suppose my tutor forgot?" Visenya glanced over her shoulder to Ser Loras. He would be more apt to know of her tutor than she herself would.
The Knight gave a shrug, his eyes scanning the area, the rest of him remaining still as a statue. "I should think not, Princess." He peered into the room past her, and when his eyes found naught, he set them back upon her. "Might I send a messenger, Princess?"
Visenya was just about to agree when a sudden and unfamiliar voice filled the hallway.
"Princess Visenya!" It was a high, soft voice. One that sounded young.
It belonged to a woman.
She was short, slightly shorter than Visenya and with a face that said she was near to Visenya's own age, if not slightly older. She was fair of face and had long, silver-gold hair. Her features were striking, and the dress she wore was as light as her hair, a violet trimming running along its hem. In an instant, her eyes sought out Ser Loras' and her unspoken question was answered by the softest of words from her Ser Loras.
"Vaella Velaryon, Princess."
Velaryon... that meant the girl was Valyrian, as half of her was.
"You must be my tutor, then?" Visenya asked, her eyes narrowing seemingly of their own volition. The girl didn't look old enough to be her teacher, and the way she carried herself seemed too sweet. She was as a child-woman, though, Visenya supposed the same could be said of her or her twin.
"Indeed, I am, Princess." The girl curtsied. "Father said the King wanted not for a traditional tutor. He thought a friend and instructor in one might make for a better learning process. I hope... I hope I don't presume, Princess." Vaella Velaryon, as Ser Loras had called her, looked bashful as her eyes sought out the floor.
Visenya couldn't help but be taken by the girl, earlier thoughts be damned.
She was, by this first impression, sweet and kind, and her shyness, ever so endearing. There wasn't quite as much a likeness shared when compared to Daenerys, but still, the girl could very easily have passed as a sister to her. More so than Rhaenys might, if one put too much stock into appearance.
"You've not presumed a thing." Visenya smiled and stepped forward, reaching out to touch the girl's arm once she grew near enough to do so. "I thank you, and I'm pleased to make your acquaintance. Now, shall we begin?"
A smile lit up the girl's face and, in an instant, Visenya had found herself a new worthwhile companion.
"A break is most well-deserved, Princess. You have a fine tongue for High Valyrian, and your accent makes it so pleasing." Vaella Velaryon was a good teacher. A better one than Visenya could have hoped for.
The gushing over her initial attempts thus far aided her, as well.
"My thanks, cousin." Visenya smiled at the girl, and sat on the edge of the desk the pair had been working at. She watched as the girl poured her a glass of water.
"Cousin?" Vaella's brow quirked up, and her hand paused as the glass was held over Visenya's own.
Visenya blinked at her. "Are we not?" She had thought the Velaryons and Targaryens closely related. Mayhaps her knowledge of houses and history alike was more lacking than she'd thought.
"We are. Not near as others might be, but cousins if one went back far enough." Vaella swallowed. "Neither Princess Rhaenys nor Prince Aegon claim it all that oft."
Visenya furrowed her brow and took the glass from her, nodding in thanks. "What of Daenerys?"
"Princess Daenerys is different. My brother Monford is very fond of her, and she's always been the epitome of kindness whensoever she visits or supps with us." Vaella shook her head as a fond, faraway look formed in her eyes. "You're cer—"
"Sister! Vaella!" Rhaenys' voice came from a back-entrance of the library. One that saw only four of her guardsmen standing thereby.
Visenya had thought her sister and brother both would be kept busy until the tourney's start.
Why else might they have missed the breakfast she'd shared with her twin and Viserys? Or the first hour of this lesson?
"Princess Rhaenys." Vaella curtsied, her eyes falling to the floor.
"Sister." Visenya smiled; the genuine look of affection that she wore was too bright and true to stay stone-faced or focused on the task she'd been about to resume.
Rhaenys slid into the chair Visenya had previously occupied, and pulled it close to the desk. Near enough to touch her sister, she placed a hand on Visenya's and looked at Vaella, smiling as warmly as their aunt oft did. "I heard only this morn that Father meant to have you as 'Senya's tutor, and I came as soon as I could. I do so desire to hear her recite the alphabet or say the simplest of words — anything to hear her speak in our mother tongue."
"The King was very kind to choose me." Vaella was demure as Visenya had first been — and on occasion still was — under Rhaenys' gaze. It was clear that, as Visenya first had, Vaella thought another might be better-suited to the task.
"Please. You and Baella are practically family." Rhaenys pulled on that hand of Visenya's then, and upon gaining her attention, spoke again. "Viserea and Vanora Celtigar will soon arrive too, I think. They’ve still a moon or so to travel. I hope to have a meal with all of us and Daenerys late one eve, after the tourney's concluded, mayhaps. Father would be glad to see us all together."
Visenya knew not what to say, and so she dipped her head, and Vaella simply repeated her thanks; she seemed shier with Rhaenys present.
But that lasted for little and less in the way of time, for another joined them.
Aegon.
He pushed through the same door that Rhaenys had only some few seconds ago, and when his eyes picked her out, he smiled. “Sisters, Vaella, you’ll have to pardon my late arrival. My personal preparations for the tourney take much and more of my time.”
“He means to enter the joust.” Rhaenys added context where Aegon gave none.
“I wish you good fortune, Prince Aegon,” Vaella persisted in her demureness, and it made Visenya wonder if that was how she’d first been; the answer was yes, she knew as much. She’d been most meek.
For the Starks, not for mine own self. Wolf I may be, I’d not risk family for pride. I’ll bend the knee or sing their pretty words.
“Yes, good fortune on the lists, Brother,” Visenya dipped her head and tried to rise to her full height.
As one might expect, Rhaenys stopped her from doing so. That hand that’d had hold of one of ‘Senya’s own had drifted down to wrap around her waist, and slight as she was, Rhaenys’ hold and strength kept her in-place.
There was no fully getting up, it seemed.
Not least she wanted to upset her sister and make a scene before her newfound cousin, Vaella.
Aegon, as he often did, smirked and walked closer. He was the picture of their father, but the manner in which he carried himself was more akin to Viserys, or Daenerys; a certain swagger, and confidence that could not be shaken. Father walked only with a happy gate as of late, but on occasion, she saw something that seemed as if he was weighed down.
His hand, calloused and rough, was raised and he tucked a strand of her silver-gold hair behind her ear. His eyes, as purple as hers were, bore into her own. It sent a shiver down her spine. Was that not an act beyond what a brother might do for his sister... well, his sister that wasn't his sister-betrothed? She knew it must be hard for those of House Targaryen to separate the lines of sibling and betrothed, but Aegon already had his bride-to-be.
"Your hair was a bit—" Aegon made a show of looking at the strand that'd slipped free, then back at her.
He was close. Too close, and when she felt her breath catch and her cheeks begin to heat, Visenya turned her head from him.
Thankfully, Rhaenys took the hint and squeezed her, before rising and dragging Visenya up with her.
"Now, I'm certain our 'Senya was meant to continue after a brief break, is that right, Vaella?"
"Y-yes, Princess."
"Good." Rhaenys looked over at the other girl. "Then mind Aegon and I not. We'll simply be sat in the corner, conversing... and listening to our sweet sister's Valyrian. Gods, how it'll sound when you speak to us come soon enough."
"I've not even begun a sentence," Visenya protested, but her words fell on deaf ears.
"No matter." Rhaenys waved off her words, and took a step towards the chairs set out for them. "Aegon, come, sit with your betrothed. No doubt 'Senya's voice will be as a soothing balm after all the noise of the yard earlier and the courtiers that came thereafter."
Aegon smiled, and his eyes flicked from Visenya, who stood still as a statue, back to his sister. He had no qualms about taking the seat beside Rhaenys, and the two of them settled in, their chairs pushed close and their shoulders touching as they leaned into one another; she heard them speaking in the same language she was being taught, but their words were so low not a detail could be gathered.
That was queer of them, given how openly they'd spoken in their 'mother tongue' every other occasion.
Visenya swallowed the lump of nervousness in her throat and glanced at Vaella.
"Shall we continue, Cousin?" Finally, she took back the seat that'd been hers, and smiled.
"I-yes, Princess." Vaella nodded, and seemed relieved that Rhaenys and Aegon's presence wasn't going to hinder her teaching.
The lesson continued, and Visenya made certain to keep her eyes from her siblings; instead, she focused solely on Vaella.
Vaella's gaze switched from Visenya, to the other Targaryens. They were speaking again, and her expression was curious, but her attention was still on her task.
"Princess, I believe our time is near at an end for this lesson, but I would leave you with a simple parting phrase, if I may. It was the first many in my family learned." Vaella smiled, and Visenya could all but see the memory of which she spoke. Then, her cousin shook her head, and said the phrase; it wasn't near as easy as she'd said it'd be. "Avy jorrāelan."
Visenya wrinkled her nose, and repeated it slowly. "A...avy jorre...elan?" She glanced up at Vaella, and smiled when the girl nodded. "And it means?"
"You have my love."
It was sweet. Just as Vaella seemed to be.
"Avy jorrāelan," Visenya repeated again, and with a nod, thanked her cousin. "That was lovely, and thank you. I'd not thought to have a lesson end so pleasant as this."
"Could you say it again? Please? And louder?" Rhaenys' voice interrupted anymore words Visenya might share with Vaella.
When the pair of them glanced over, Rhaenys was grinning, and her brother was smiling too. Both were leaning forth in their seats, with an unhidden eagerness for her to repeat the phrase. Mayhaps she was happy with her 'progress' if it could be called as such, or perhaps she simply wanted to thank the pair for their constant aid and companionship, albeit quite… persistent and mayhaps overbearing.
Her siblings deserved their kindness returned, even if ulterior motives were present. They could’ve done far worse.
"A-a..vy jorrāelan." The syllables and the sound of the words were still foreign to her, and the phrase seemed to be one that was difficult to pronounce, but their reactions were as if she'd mastered it.
Rhaenys cooed and shot forth from her seat, crossing the distance between them in mere seconds, and Aegon wasn't far behind. They wrapped their arms around her, and the three of them hugged.
"I'm so proud of you, little sister." Aegon spoke softly, his lips close to her ear, and his hand cupped her cheek as the three of them pulled apart, leaving Visenya squished between the two.
"Me, too. I love you, sweet 'Senya." Rhaenys leaned down and kissed her cheek, then pulled her into another hug, while her brother's arm rested around her waist. "And Vaella, you've done splendidly. Thank you for teaching my sister. You're a master of our language."
Vaella curtsied again. "My thanks, Princess, Prince Aegon." She was red-cheeked, and her eyes sought the floor. "Princess, I'll be here at this time on the morrow, if it please you."
"That sounds lovely, Cousin." Visenya smiled. "Until then."
In another rare burst of affection — on account of her siblings happiness with her and the lesson as a whole — Visenya pulled on Vaella's hand as the other girl made to pass her by. With a light, friendly peck to the girl's cheek, Visenya thanked her once more, and then let her leave.
That left her with her siblings, or rather, stuck most firmly betwixt them. Each had a hand on her. One was around her waist, and the other was on her shoulder.
"Now, Sister, shall we go?"
"Go? Where? The tourney—"
"Isn't to start until the early evening this first day. A fair few parties were delayed." Aegon put to ease her worries. "And I imagine, you'll wish to join us to welcome our newest guests."
Rhaenys' frown at Aegon's words betrayed her foreknowledge of who they were. Evidently, she didn't approve of them, or else was displeased that her brother had brought the subject up.
"Our newest guests?" Visenya looked between the pair.
Aegon was the first to answer her. "Northmen. Your cousin Robb, a few lesser heirs, knights from House Manderly and Lord Mormont." He seemed not to have the same distaste that Rhaenys' visage portrayed. Yet, his tone wasn't entirely pleased.
She knew better than to ask as to the reasons for the animosity felt towards her birthmother's house. All of House Targaryen thought her stolen from them. None seemed to wish to acknowledge that the Starks had as good a claim on her as they did; how many Starks had fallen to Targaryens, after all?
"When?" Visenya's one word was spoken plainly. Eager as she was for Northmen — Robb, mostly — to be present, she wished not to add to the fire that was Rhaenys' possession towards her; Elia's words of warning back in the North had been true. She'd laughed it off, demure and shy at the time, and now, she realised it'd been a mistake... at least in some part. Rhaenys' affection, after all, had served as the greatest of ships in the harshest of storms she'd ever faced.
"Mother said their ships were spotted from the Red Keep." Aegon's hand moved to the small of her back, and he gently steered her to the door. "We should be set to welcome them in half an hour or less. It'd do well for us to make our way down. We'll be all that greets them."
Visenya tried to shift away from where her siblings kept her as she posed a question. "Elia an—"
"Mother. You've been here long enough 'Senya. I've corrected you thrice over, and Father too." Rhaenys had cut her off, and forced her to lift her eyes so that Rhaenys' own could peer therein. "I don't wish to keep correcting you, Visenya." There was an annoyance in her tone. One that left her going back to the demure girl she'd first been.
"Pardon me. I was merely... I did not mean—"
"The fault isn't yours, little sister." Rhaenys cut her off before any further stuttering or apologies could fall from her lips. "It just... You make the dragon in me wrathful when you refer to Mother and Father as anything but. You should've been here with us from when our Winter Mother first brought you into this world. We should have no problem in how you call our Mother and Father."
Aegon's words that followed immediately after Rhaenys' sent the most dreadful shiver down her spine. "They took our little sister from us. You were meant to be ours, but they stole you."
Visenya felt the hairs on her neck stand on end, and with more force, she made to shift out from betwixt the pair as their 'dragons' rose; that proved impossible given the strength of their grasps.
"They stole you. Stole you from us, little sister." Rhaenys was speaking as much to herself as she was Visenya. "Father should've punished them for daring to steal a Princess. A dragon... but I'm pleased that he didn't. It would've caused you pain, and not one of us here wishes for that."
Aegon extended his arms to pull Rhaenys into his embrace, and stuck in the centre of said embrace, Visenya found herself held tight to their chests. Her cheek was pressed to Aegon’s shoulder, and her back was flush against her sister's front.
For seconds or minutes, she was kept there.
Rhaenys and Aegon had stopped talking. It seemed each was calming down with the presence of the other.
And her.
Gods, did the pair seem so dependent on her and their closeness.
"Let us go," Aegon's words were the first she heard in some time, and when they came, it was followed by his hand resting on her shoulder. He turned her in his arms, and with one hand on her waist, the other cupping her cheek, he leaned down and placed a kiss on her brow; he pulled away from her and repeated the action on Rhaenys. "Our guests will be here soon, and I'd like you by my side as I greet them, little sister."
Their older sister hummed at Aegon's words. "I'll call for Nym and Ty. If nobody else means to join us, I'd see the five of us together."
Visenya didn't know how much she agreed. "Will... will Father not be coming?"
Aegon shared a look with Rhaenys. One in which the former seemed to be seeking reassurance or support, and then the latter nodded, though it was obvious that Rhaenys didn't quite agree with whatever her brother had been seeking.
"Father has some business to attend to, I believe." Aegon's voice was low, and that was all the answer he gave before the trio were off; not before Visenya spoke hurried words to Ser Loras.
Visenya was thankful the wheelhouse was close to Maegor's. As a result, the walk was brief, and the bothersome stares of servants, guards or lords alike were kept to a minimum.
In the wheelhouse, Rhaenys sat on the plush seat that ran the length of the wall, and she patted the spot beside her.
"Come, 'Senya." She was smiling, and the sight was enough to ease her earlier concerns. "Sit with me."
Visenya paused, eyeing the space when she heard two others greet Aegon with a familiarity seldom heard.
"Cousin," Nymeria's confident, and sultry, voice was heard.
Then came a far softer, near childish, tone. "Prince Aegon."
Tyene. The one that'd caused unease over the meal with Oberyn and his daughters.
She'd yet to even spare a glance in the girl's direction.
"Sit," Rhaenys ordered again, and the word was followed by her arm wrapping around Visenya's shoulders, and pulling her forth. Once in the wheelhouse and not just the entry-way, Visenya found herself 'guided' by Rhaenys, and sat beside her, the two of them squished together in the corner despite the abundance of space. It nearly drew a sigh, and it would have, were Rhaenys not so comfortable; she was fortunate, her sister. "Good little sister. Now, Ty, sit beside 'Senya, would you? I love how sweet a sight the pair of you make."
Visenya huffed as Rhaenys pulled her closer still; enough so that her perfume was all that she could smell.
Aegon, for his part, had been conversing with Tyene and Nymeria both, but with Rhaenys' words and grasp, that talk had been little more than a chorus she'd minded little and less. But nary a second after Rhaenys' words, she felt the presence of another.
"It's a pleasure to sit beside you, Princess." Tyene's voice was as soft as silk, and a moment later, the blonde girl had settled herself as close to Visenya as was possible sans a physical touch. “You’re very fair.”
Visenya gave thanks under her breath, and returned the sentiment for the sake of politeness — it wasn’t a stretch either, given how pretty the blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl was; she looked away from Tyene when she saw the tip of her tongue stick out from between those pinkish, up-turned lips.
Her smile seemed as hungry as Rhaenys’ could be… no, no she was simply back to being paranoid. Tyene was innocent and sweet-looking, and those words spoken, gentle as the wind, should bother her not.
As Nymeria climbed in, giggling at some remark Aegon made, Rhaenys addressed Tyene. She spoke across Visenya, one finger sliding up and down the ridge of her sister’s collarbone, as she spoke.
"Cousin, if I recall, you wished to sup with our 'Senya on occasion. Mayhaps after her next lesson, you'd wish to join us, and dine?"
"That sounds lovely." Tyene's hand landed on her thigh for a second's time, the touch light, and innocent-seeming. "Sorry, Princess. Nymeria bumped me, I meant not to disturb you."
"You're forgiven." Visenya swallowed and tried to shift away from Tyene, further into the side of Rhaenys as her eyes sought out the door; Aegon was still waiting outside, but as Tyene had said, Nymeria had joined them. It still struck her as odd, even now, how different the Sand Snakes were. Tyene was short, and Nymeria, tall. Each was slender, yet Tyene's figure was similar to her own in the fact it was girlish.
Nymeria was as Rhaenys and Daenerys. Womanly. From hips to breasts, she was twice as full as 'Senya was.
"Cousin," Visenya turned her head to her left, and looked at Nymeria as the other girl addressed her. "You did well in the yard this morn. I've never seen a girl your size able to wield two blades so well, and against Aegon or Rhaenys no less. It makes me yearn to see what a danger you'll be when you're full-grown."
"Thank you," Visenya offered as her eyes sought out the floor. Praise had always left her feeling a certain unease. As she gathered herself, hastily as could be, Tyene's fingers curled around the hem of her skirt and made to 'test' the fabric. Queer as it was, Visenya thought it normal for Southron women. She had it on good authority from Sansa, a lover of all things Southron who had acted just as Tyene now was. "I've trained with a few weapons, but none have been quite as enjoyable to use."
Nymeria giggled and with a dip of her head and flourish of her gown, produced two daggers. Each was curved similar to a gutting knife, and their hilts were encrusted with gems of orange. Opal or Topaz, mayhaps.
"I use these. My uncle gifted them to me some years ago, and I've loved them ever since. Father was cross when he couldn't be the one to see me armed." She spun one around her hand. "If you're ever in need, I have more on me. Rhaenys and I used to make a game of it. She would see—"
Rhaenys spoke over Nymeria, while Aegon still stood as a silent sentinel by the wheelhouse door.
It made her wonder if her brother had heard the words she'd said to Ser Loras, but she had nary a few seconds' time to contemplate if she'd spoken louder than intended, for Rhaenys drew her into the conversation she'd somehow managed to keep from reaching her ears. "—ldn't you say so, Visenya?"
Visenya blinked. "What?” She looked to Tyene, then Nymeria, and then, back to her sister. “I'm afraid I didn't quite hear what you said."
Rhaenys' grin was mischievous. "I said, we should take you to Sunspear. You'd enjoy it, I'm sure."
She was unsure of why her sister would think she'd enjoy that. Had she not made mention of her hatred of the heat? "The heat of King's Landing alone is already far too much. I'd likely perish if you took me somewhere warmer."
Rhaenys giggled. "Oh, 'Senya, we wouldn't do that. There are many ways to keep you cool."
"You could drink more. We have juices even here seldom see." Nymeria supplied helpfully.
"Or you could wear less." Tyene's eyes focused on Visenya's apparel. It was, in comparison to the other three girls, more than modest despite her thoughts when first she'd seen it. Gods, Rhaenys and the two Sand Snakes had all bared some flesh with their choices of wear, and while her own gown was tight and 'thin', it kept secret all that should remain such. "I can't imagine the furs at your neckline are very comfortable, Princess."
She reached out to Visenya's collar, but as her hand grew nearer thereto, Tyene seemed to remember herself and halted. There was this shy, meek look as her hand recoiled and fell back to her side.
"Tyene has the right of it, as I've said, little sister. Your skin is as beautiful and pale as the moon. Why would you cover it so?" Rhaenys did what Tyene dared not to, and her fingers began to play with the fur of her collar. It seemed she desired to rip it off and throw it from the wheelhouse, but 'Senya knew her sister wouldn't do so despite her grievances with Visenya's sense of fashion.
"As you said, I'd burn should the sun touch it." Visenya slapped away Rhaenys' prying hand and shifted her collar up her neck. It was uncomfortable, and hot, but it would be preferable to her skin burning or the incessant stares at her 'pale as the moon' flesh.
Rhaenys was about to argue, but thankfully, Aegon chose that moment to call attention to himself. "Sister. Your pup's arrived."
Visenya shot out from betwixt Tyene and Rhaenys with all the speed she'd shown in her spars. Try as the latter might to catch her and pull her back, Visenya's speed won out, and she was soon free of the wheelhouse, and at her brother's side. Gods, how she'd scrambled down those steps as she'd seen Bran do trees.
Aegon had nary the chance to greet her before she was off, grabbing up Rickon's form from the servant that'd brought him.
Rickon was quick to wrap his arms around her, and press his face into her shoulder.
"Sister." He spoke the word into her hair.
"I missed you, little pup." She pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and ran her hands up and down his back. "Did you behave whilst I was away? Are you hungry? Tired? Is anything amiss?"
Rickon, still practically a babe, only giggled at her concern.
"He's well, sister." Aegon's voice drew her attention as she fawned over the little pup she kept held aloft. Gods, how she swore he'd grown in the moon or so since this journey had begun. He was heavier in her arms too. That, or she'd grown softer in her new home.
"You're certain all his needs are met?" Visenya's eyes pierced her brother's own, and though it was obvious she trusted him at least that far, her gaze was not one to be trifled with.
"Of course." Aegon smiled. "Father ensured he was treated well, and I’ve made certain that’s the case. ‘Naerys has too. He's kin."
Visenya eyed Aegon, her gaze not shifting until Rickon's voice reached her ears.
"Food?" His voice was low, and though he'd spoken the question to his sister, the word was loud enough for all to hear.
Aegon was the first to chuckle. "Come. Let's get him some food. I know a spot near the harbour, and it's always good."
"You mean to have us stop on the way?" Visenya had thought they'd go straight to Robb and the Northmen. Hungry as her pup was, she could take him with Robb and the others to the kitchens upon their arrival. "Is it safe? What of Robb and the others?"
"Calm, little sister, calm." Aegon gave a little nod to the steps she'd hastened down some few seconds ago, then his eyes settled on Rickon. His offer was clear, but Visenya was covetous of Rickon. Each day she desired to keep safe her little brother more than the last. "Let me aid you and my future squire. I'm certain he's getting heavier, and you know I'm strong, sister."
With a deep breath, Visenya relented. Her grip on Rickon tightened for a second's time as she shifted his weight to the crook of one arm, and held out the other just in case she’d need catch him. "Careful with him, please. He's young, and still fragile."
"Have I given you reason to doubt me?" Aegon chuckled, but as he took Rickon into his arms, her little brother squirmed a bit, and made a sound akin to a whimper. "Calm, little Stark." Aegon's hand rose to rest on Rickon's head. "Your sister's still with you. I mean only to keep you until she's climbed inside. She won't leave without you, and I promise you're safe in my arms — think of me as the Dragonknight returned."
"Promise." Rickon repeated the word with a pout, but nary a second later, he was tucking his head under Aegon's and curling into her brother's hold. “Dragonknight!”
Visenya smiled at the sight 'til she remembered she was meant to be climbing. Once she'd hastily done so, she had Rickon returned to her, and then she was back betwixt Tyene and Rhaenys, only this time with Rickon in her lap.
For the whole way down, even when they made a brief pause for a meal at Aegon's orders — for Rickon — Tyene, Nymeria and Rhaenys alike gushed over the 'adorable' sight of her and her pup. They did so with such fervency that, when they'd arrived at the Red Keep's harbour, Visenya had forgotten all about Robb, the Northmen, and their greeting.
Until they'd arrived at the docks, and the realisation truly dawned on her; Robb would soon arrive.
Visenya allowed Aegon to do as he'd previously done, and take Rickon from her grasp. Rhaenys insisted on aiding her too, by way of keeping a hand on the small of her back and guiding her along, and as she descended, it was with a smile on her lips. Feet on solid ground, Visenya saw Rickon returned to her, then the violet eyes she shared with her siblings sought out the ship Robb and the Northmen would've used; it took her little and less time to find the Manderly sails.
Her smile was as large as the ocean as she saw it growing nearer and nearer, and as thoughts of how he might react to her came forth, her siblings took action.
Aegon and Rhaenys both took their positions on either side of her, and with a hand on her shoulder and in her back, guided her along. She was barely mindful of it, so lost was she in the sight of the ship.
She knew Robb would be on that boat, and gods, how she missed him; all of them.
"No further. It wouldn't be proper to step foot along those dirty docks, sweet sister," Rhaenys' grasp encircled her waist as those words were said.
"And we've a better vantage here. It'll be easier to spot them as they disembark." Aegon offered too.
She nodded and tried to settle her nerves. "Thank you." Visenya hoped her siblings caught the double-meaning of the thanks she spoke.
"We would do anything for you." Rhaenys kissed her cheek, the scent of fruit lingering when she pulled away. "You're our blood. Our little sister."
Aegon's hand ran up and down her spine as he nodded at Rhaenys' words.
She didn't speak another word aloud, for her heart was aflutter, and she feared the stammering, trembling voice that would come out if she tried to.
"They make to disembark." Tyene's words drew Visenya's gaze, and saw her further ignore the touches of Aegon and Rhaenys alike as she stood atop the tips of her toes for a better view.
Sure enough, men began to pour off the ship, and at their front was a shape she knew well.
Robb.
He'd come. He'd truly come.
Visenya held back tears as the men and women of the North lined up, and Robb, her beloved, pain-in-the-arse brother, walked towards them. Nearer and nearer he grew, with men she knew well enough at his side.
There was Lord Jorah Mormont, and Dacey of the same house. Eddard and Torrhen Karstark, boys that'd each desired her at Winterfell, Ser Wendel Manderly... many and more followed too, but as they went on, she was progressively less certain of who they were.
In truth, name mattered not, only their kinship by way of Kingdom.
That kinship was ever so evident when the Northmen finally grew close enough for words; as one might expect, Robb was the first to speak, and with a dip of his head. "Prince Aegon, Princess Rhaenys," that gruff, Northern voice was music to her ears, and when his eyes met hers, and that tone changed to one that was decidely warmer, she felt the stinging of tears forming in her eyes. "Princess Visenya."
"Lord Robb." Aegon offered the man his hand, and just as Robb's voice was softer for her, Aegon's was the hardest she'd heard in sennights. It was a tone she'd heard him use once or twice, but never to her, and she had no desire for him to continue speaking thus. Her hand curled into his sleeve, and she gave it the gentlest of squeezes. It was her wordless plea for him to be kinder; it felt as if it'd worked in some part when he continued in a softer tone. "Welcome to King's Landing. We offer you our hospitality."
Robb, thankfully, was just as eager to be finished with the pleasantries. "I thank you for your gracious welcome, Prince Aegon." His eyes fell to her again, and the look of love and warmth there was almost too much. Her fingers dug into her palm. "I've much to discuss with the King on behalf of House Stark, and I would ask if I might sup with Princess Visenya and my baby brother one of these e—"
"A most pleasant request, Lord Robb." Aegon cut him off, and Visenya wanted to hush him, or hit her brother, or both. He couldn't deny her this, could he? "In the meantime, we would see you escorted back to the Red Keep for a proper welcome, as well as the offering of guest right."
It seemed Aegon desired not to dawdle as the crowds 'round them grew in size, for those were the last words said where all were visible to the smallfolk.
Marna, for her part, wished to do much and more with those present and so near to her.
Visenya had witnessed Robb and Lord Mormont take bread and salt, and seen the latter and the former both greet her siblings once more, this time in the courtyard near to Lord Tyrell’s Tower of the Hand. There were still those handful of other nobles present from her North, and others from the Southron that were going about their business, but she minded them not. She was focused on watching her brother as he took her hand, the other holding aloft Rickon's giggling, excited form, and lifted it to his lips. "Princess," He murmured the word as if he was afraid to say it, and her heart hurt to think it was due to fear of her, or the King's wrath. "I am glad to see you well. I’ve missed you. We all have."
Gods, how her heart ached at the propriety demanded of Robb.
Her eyes sought out the cause of such issues; Aegon and Rhaenys. Her sister's lips were pursed, and her brother's jaw was clenched. Both had their gazes fixed on her and Robb, and when their eyes met her own, she felt the pain of a dagger piercing her heart.
"Robb..." Visenya whispered his name. Her hand slipped from his grasp, and when next she spoke, it was low enough that the slightest of breezes would see it unheard. "I've missed you, brother."
As much as she would've preferred to say more, do more, and hear of their family in her true home — the North — she knew now was not the time. Not with their siblings' stares fixed on the pair.
"Sister," Aegon's hand landed upon her shoulder, and she felt the weight of it as surely as she felt the weight of his eyes.
Rhaenys joined Aegon in his endeavour to separate them. "Yes, sweet sister. Come. Let us host them properly."
The pair began to drag her off, and the further she got from Robb, the greater her anxiety grew. It was only the pup in her arms that kept her grounded as he giggled and waved and babbled to their brother.
"Come, Lord Robb." Aegon spoke loudly. "Accompany us."
Robb, Lord Mormont, and Dacey of the latter's house were the only three that made to follow the Targaryens sans the guardsmen; their presence was always certain as sunrise. The rest of the men were led off by Nymeria, and Tyene... she'd ended up at Rhaenys' free side.
"It has been a long while since last I was within the halls of the Red Keep." Jorah's voice was rough and deep.
"Has it been so long, Lord Jorah?" Rhaenys asked the question, and her hand shifted from the crook of Visenya's elbow to the small of her back. It was a possessive act with her cousin trailing after them, and though Visenya didn't like it, she did little and less. She could only hope and pray that any further animosity be kept in-check.
"It has, Princess." Jorah replied, but the conversation didn't progress.
There was only the sound of footsteps and the rustling of cloaks to accompany the journey through the halls. Occasionally giggles from Rickon as well, but by and large he'd settled in playing with her hair and the fur of her dress.
It wasn't until they'd arrived at the door to their destination that her siblings chose to break that lingering, oppressive silence.
"Food and drink is already present, My Lords, My Lady." Aegon gave a gesture of invitation. "Take of it, and should you need anything, the servants will bring it."
"We thank you, Prince Aegon." Lord Mormont was quick to speak.
Visenya, meanwhile, turned her head, and saw her brother looking at her. Their eyes met for but a moment before Rhaenys took her by the elbow and tugged her along, but she was certain she'd seen a look in his eyes that she couldn't name. It looked much and more like concern, but the longer she thought about it, the more it felt like fear. Was it for her? Rickon? For himself? Those he'd brought along?
The fingers of the hand that'd been rubbing Rickon's back curled into her palm, and when her nails began to dig into her flesh, she found the pain a pleasant distraction from her thoughts.
"Sister," Rhaenys whispered her name. The hand at her elbow shifted down, and soon that hand was enveloped in the warmth of her sister's.
Visenya moved away then, shaking off in as discrete a way as she could the holds of Aegon and Rhaenys alike.
Without thought, without worry, without intelligence, she pulled Robb up from whence he'd sat and into a tight hug.
Rickon was happy with that and pulled at the facial hair sprouting on Robb's face. It was joyous and he was warm. Strong too. His body was a stark contrast to those of Daenerys or Rhaenys; Gods, how firm he felt.
She waited for him to pull her and Rickon both in close, to return the embrace she'd given him.
But he didn't return it.
Hurt, she made to peer into his eyes, but nary a glance could be had before for she was pulled away so swiftly she stumbled backwards.
"I'm sorry, Lord Robb." Rhaenys' words were spoken quickly, and in the time it took for Visenya to gather herself, Robb had been pulled back by Lord Bear before he eventually sat once more.
"Visenya, join me." Her brother spoke next, and the look he gave her was one that brooked no argument.
Visenya did as he'd bidden, and found a seat at his side; as one might expect, Rhaenys took the seat at her other side. Her sister's expression went beyond the cool displeasure of Aegon's, and was one that could only be described as icy.
She didn't know why her sister was so upset. A hug with Robb, a man she thought of as a brother far more than Aegon, a man who was her blood, was little and less to be worried about.
And yet, it was something that Aegon and Rhaenys both seemed furious over.
"My Lords, my Lady." Aegon spoke to their guests. "If you would, please enjoy your meal. There are rooms prepared for you in the Maidenvault. You need but speak with Ser Alliser Thorne."
"Thank you, Prince Aegon." It was Lord Mormont that spoke.
Back to the gallant, charming Prince, Aegon gave a smile. "Think nothing of it, My Lords."
They'd barely touched their food, and the atmosphere had grown frigid.
It was not a situation Visenya desired to be in.
Thankfully, Dacey chose this moment of all moments to break the silence. "Forgive me, Princess," Dacey turned her attention to Visenya, and on that familiar face of hers was a fondness the pair had felt for one another since first they'd met, all those years ago in Winterfell's Godswood. "I'd not wished to… interrupt, but I came to serve."
"To serve?" Visenya parroted.
"Aye." Dacey gave a dip of her head. The older, taller and far more muscular girl rose from her seat a moment thereafter. "We know the Crown would never let harm come to you, but your late mother was dear to Bear Island, Princess. Very dear. My sister Lyanna was named in her honour, and memory, as you know — I mean to say, I would be your Sworn Shield, if you'd have me. We couldn't keep safe the late Queen Lyanna, but we would see to her daughter's safety and happiness. There’d be no greater honour."
Her throat grew tight, and her chest tightened to match it. She'd never had someone ask her permission to do anything before. Not for such an important matter.
"You're sure, Lady Dacey?" Visenya was certain of the answer, but she needed to hear it from the woman's lips.
"Yes, Princess." Dacey offered her a smile, and in that smile, she saw the same fondness and care in the other girl's eyes as had been present when she was naught but Marna Snow. Ned Stark's supposed bastard daughter. One that men desired to bed or wed, the latter for little more than favour with her father; at least, the man she'd thought him to be back then. She was taken from the reminiscence when Dacey bent the knee. "I would be yours. I would shield you from harm, offer counsel, give my life in place of yours. Whatever you would ask of me, Princess. I'd not fail you. I swear it by the Old Gods."
Visenya felt a slight satisfaction at the mention of their gods, and not those Southron Seven, more still that Dacey had said all that she had — alone save for the company of Rickon, her future would no longer be. Then, she realised something that saw that amusement and happiness gone in little and less time.
She hadn't a clue as to what to say in order to properly and formally accept Dacey's request.
Her mouth opened, and then it closed. Wordlessly, and with a meekness given the displeasure they'd shown, she sent a look to her siblings in the hopes one would take pity on her.
Aegon's expression was hard, but his eyes softened. He rose not a second thereafter, and sought out her side. As soon as he found it, he whispered into her ears the proper words to say even as Aegon pulled at his shirt, and aloud, she repeated them while soothing her pup. "I... I vow that you shall always have a spot at my hearth, meat and mead at my table, and I swear to ask of you naught that would dishonour you. I swear it by the... by the Old Gods—" Her eyes flicked to Aegon's, at his incessance, she finished what he desired she included. Softer and with no desire to say them behind the words, they came all the same. "—and the New. Rise, please, My Lady."
"Then I am your woman, Princess, from this day, until my last." Dacey vowed in return as she rose from the carpeted floor.
Visenya gave her new sworn sword a nod, and the girl sat back at the table, across from her.
As the room descended into silence — save for Rickon — once more, Visenya felt the need to escape. To go find a place that wasn't this. One away from Tyene’s queer gaze, away from her siblings and their off-putting demeanour.
Rising from her seat, she took the arm of Dacey, and began to lead the girl away, Rickon still in her grasp by way of that other arm.
"Sister!"
Visenya didn't turn around. She ignored her siblings.
She didn't care if she was supposed to. Already, she knew they’d be cross with her for the affection she’d shown Robb, and speaking of her cousin, he’d acted wise, but all the same, it’d hurt.
“Princess,” Dacey’s tone as Visenya strode off, Ser Loras at their heel with the dozen guardsmen behind, was hesitant.
She didn't slow, and didn't turn around, but she did answer.
"My royal siblings are upset. They’ve been that way since the letter from Robb. I've not the desire to speak with them any longer — I would have your company, and that of Ser Loras."
Dacey made no further comment, and in little and less time, Visenya was in her chambers, showing them to her sworn shield.
"Ser," Visenya turned her head to Loras, and saw the knight had his hands folded before him as he lingered near to the door.
"Yes, Princess?”
“Have word sent for the nearest chambers befitting a Lady to be prepared. I would have my she-bear near.”
"Of course, Princess." Loras gave a dip of his head, and called to a passing servant. She noticed he stayed near as he could even as he relayed her order.
Pleased, Visenya slid atop th nearest chair and placed her cousin upon the space before her.
Rickon made grabby-hands, and so Visenya gave the boy his nearby — and favourite — toy He was happy with that, and contented himself with marching his little wood-carved and painted knight, or doing battle with her jewellery, plentiful and ornate as it was.
On occasion, he’d go so far as to make his little knight bite the ‘enemies’ he faced. Each and every time she’d witness that, she’d find herself cooing or laughing in turn.
"He's a cute little thing." Dacey remarked with a laugh.
"That he is." Visenya agreed, and with one hand staying wrapped ‘round her baby brother, she swivelled to better look at Dacey.
She was just as wide of hip, tall of build and confident in nature as she remembered.
“Princess?” Dacey called her attention, and she noticed her friend was looking at her strangely.
Visenya was curious. Why had Dacey stopped? Was there something she missed? Had she done something wrong?
"Yes, My Lady?"
"Do you..." Dacey hesitated, her cheeks going a little pink. "Would you allow me to hold the boy?"
"Oh!" Visenya felt sheepish. She was foolish to think herself the only girl that liked babes in her arms as much as a weapon in her hands.
With a laugh and a smile after that initial befuddlement, Visenya nodded her head. She didn't need to say a thing, for Dacey took her Rickon with a care and ease that showed just how soft the powerful she-bear could be.
Rickon, for his part, did naught but giggle, and babble endlessly his own form of greetings and questions.
It was a sound entirely too sweet for the world to hear, and seeing her new sworn sword and her brother getting along was something that filled her heart with endless amounts of love and joy.
If only the tourney that would soon start would be half as sweet a happening.
“Ser Loras, Lady Dacey, remain here, please. I would share words with Rhaenys before I make for the wheelhouse.”
Her Sworn Shield and the Kingsguard gave a nod, and with a sigh, Visenya entered her sisters chambers; seldom was it locked, and never had Rhaenys required permission were it not barred.
The sight that greeted her was a familiar one. Her sister was standing before a mirror, her back to Visenya and her hair down.
Visenya approached Rhaenys, and once close enough, wrapped her arms around her from behind. With Rhaenys’ earlier annoyance with her, she sought to soften her sister’s mood lest she need her aid come soon.
Their eyes met in the mirror, and for a moment, a smile formed on her sisters lips, and her own followed suit.
But it didn't last.
Rhaenys turned her head to look over her shoulder, and Visenya could see the sadness, the anger and the disappointment in those purple orbs.
"I wish you wouldn't have done what you did." Rhaenys voice was a whisper.
"What I did?" Visenya was lost. What had she done?
"You know." Rhaenys replied, her eyes falling to her hands, which were holding Visenya's against her stomach.
"I did naught but hug my bro—“
Rhaenys' hands went white-knuckled on hers, and with a snarl, she turned to tower over her. “I’ve been the epitome of patient, and even now, you test us — no Stark is your sibling, no person shall ‘free’ you from us. We’re your family. Your blood. Your true family. What did that cunt do to you to make you like this?”
Rhaenys… she overstepped.
Gods, how Visenya wished to see her quieted, to see that dragon-like possessiveness frozen lest it grew stronger still.
But Robb was here now. He was here, and they liked him not.
So she stepped back, intent on seeking the door.
Only for her sister to grip her wrists, and yank her close.
"No! You don't get to walk away!" Rhaenys snapped. "I know you're hiding something, Vis! You've not been yourself since... since not long after we’ve arrived. You were sweet, now you’re…” She shook her head as she trailed off this time, but sure enough, more words were yet to come, and these ones made Visenya nervous.. “I know you spoke with Dany of something.”
“I haven’t a clue as t—“
Rhaenys squeezed, her grip a vice, yet still it was light enough to see no pain caused. "You do. Tell me what I desire to hear."
"Rhaenys, please."
Her sister released her then, and the look upon her face was a strange mix of sadness, fury, and disappointment.
"I'm sorry." Visenya offered the words up despite the desire to slap the older girl.
Rhaenys shook her head. "You should have thought before you spoke and did." She sighed as she pulled Visenya flush against her. “Such a troublesome little sister, but you needn’t worry. Aegon and I will help you. Already, we’ve thought how we might start.”
That didn’t bode well for her future.
Nor did Aegon’s presence when he exited from the direction of Rhaenys’ basin.
Visenya watched the pair converse without a word, and her heart sank when their eyes sought her out as one.
She had a horrible feeling about the next words they'd speak.
"Come here, sister." Aegon held his hand out to her, and with a glance to her other sibling, who'd done the same, Visenya took it. As soon as she did so, Aegon spoke again as his grasp of her grew firmer. "We've decided that for a sennight, you shall not be allowed to visit Robb or Rickon."
Her heart dropped, and she was quick to shake her head. "Please, no. Anything but that."
"It's for your own good." Rhaenys said softly, her hands petting through Visenya's hair. "You think yourself a Stark. Aegon and I know now we need right that. Robb's presence... We thought with the passing of some few sennights, would be a welcome way to show your cousin, and by extension, your family, that you've adapted. Yet, the truth is, you've not, have you?"
"No, I have." Visenya protested, and she tried to step away to do so more readily.
Rhaenys refused to let her, or believe her.
"You've not." Her sister replied, and her tone was gentle, but her words were hard.
"I swe—"
Aegon spoke over her, and his words were harder still. "We're the ones who will decide that, Visenya. You're our sister. Our blood. If you truly meant the words you spoke in favour of your adapting, you'd see the wisdom in this. Robb... he's a distraction."
"You say it as if it's a bad thing." Visenya whispered, and her eyes darted between the two; she'd truly not meant to say that aloud, but spite won out.
Distractions were very sorely needed; how couldn’t they see that?
"It is." They replied in unison, and their tone left little and less to be debated.
"Father should not have kept you tucked away in the Holdfast as he'd done." Aegon was the first to continue, and his hand rose to cup her cheek. It seemed those words were more meant for himself, as if he'd learned from their sire's supposed failure.
He was stupid. Rhaenys was stupid. She cared not for King's Landing. The Seven, the South, all of it could rot and fester for all she cared.
Yet Visenya, head bowed with wetness brewing in her eyes and a deep, loathing anger settling in her stomach, gave plea to the pair for the sake of family. "I'm a Targaryen. I swear I've adapted to the change you... gifted me." She took a breath lest harsher words be given. "Don't take my pup from me. Please, big brother. Please."
Aegon let out a long-lasting sigh and ran his free-hand down his face.
Her look of utter pleading, one she'd stolen from Daenerys, seemed strong as steel when teary, purple eyes and their relation was made mention of.
With his gaze fixed on her, he gave answer to her.
"You'll request my approval before any time spent with your cousin, Robb Stark. I can deny it for any reason, and you'll not take issue with my doing so." Aegon sounded pained as he said the name; as if that wasn’t bad enough, his next words came spilling forth. "And you'll never be alone with him. Your pup, my squire, you may continue to visit as you like. In fact, I would go with you on occasion." He ran a hand through his hair in a manner that conveyed the myriad of frustrations she was sure he felt. It was the second time he'd done a similar action in short succession. Aegon was more stressed than she'd thought him, and his final words told as much."Please, little sister, just remember your position. It's one that means you'll touch no man not of our house. Stark, Lannister, Tyrell—"
"Martell." Rhaenys picked up where Aegon stopped. "If you give any man leave to touch you, or if you initiate contact with them, we will see them punished most severely. And you too, little sister."
Visenya bit back a growl, but with a curt nod, she gave a reluctant acquiescence. At least they'd rescinded the initial punishment in favour of one that was 'more lenient' in their eyes.
Gods, what a mockery it was that her 'siblings' could decide punishments or restrictions upon her.
"Good." Rhaenys was pleased, and she drew Visenya in close, undoing the steps away she'd made. "One last condition, little sister, before you make to leave us." Her sister's hands rose to stroke and toy with her hair, a soothing touch after the previous, harsh words; a mask, in truth, for what came next. "From this day forth, you'll no longer refer to Robb, or anyone else save for our pup, as your brother or sister."
Visenya was far from keen on Rhaenys calling Rickon 'our' pup. Daenerys, she'd allowed, but Aegon and Rhaenys both had shown the same dislike of the Starks that Rhaegar did… mayhaps Aegon had been sweet to Rickon, and she’d allow that Rickon had taken to him, still, they were far from fond of any Northmen it’d seem.
"Yes, Princess." Lest she lose her regained rights to Robb or Rickon, Visenya would agree; but a challenge need be given in return even despite how foolish that was. If that meant she need go back to how first she'd been, and call each Targaryen that'd earned her ire by title or with honorifics, she'd do so gladly.
Rhaenys looked displeased, but it was Aegon who spoke up for her. "None of that, Visenya."
"Yes, My Prince."
"Sister," Her brother's tone was a warning, but he gave no reprimand.
Visenya didn't bother hiding the scowl she knew marred her features, and she did her best to pull away.
Yet again, Rhaenys kept her held close. "I'll see you tonight, little sister. You'll keep warm my bed — mayhaps whilst we talk atop the pillows, I'll explain better what's expected of a Princess of our blood."
With those final words spoken, Visenya was all too pleased to leave.
Dacey and Ser Loras fell into step behind her as she strode down the hallway, and for a brief moment, Visenya paused before her own chambers, which were entirely too near to Rhaenys' and Aegon's; it wasn't a thought she'd first had, not with how close they'd grown, but now their possessive, controlling behaviour, was something that made her feel all too wary of their rooms being near.
"My Lady?" Dacey's voice broke through the swirling thoughts.
"Ah, apologies, my Lady, and Ser." Visenya smiled at the two, and opened the door.
"You needn't apologise." Dacey laughed, and the sound was a balm upon her nerves. "In truth, with it not but you and I, and the good, handsome and sweet Ser Loras... it's very nearly like we're back in the North."
Visenya blinked at her old mentor. One of the few that cared not of her bastard's blood. From there, her gaze drifted to the near-score of guardsmen that'd shadowed them, and finally, to Ser Loras; he was blushing !
A little giggle escaped her, and she couldn't help the wide smile that grew.
Dacey was as dry a jester as ever, and Ser Loras, Gods, how shy he seemed with the she-bear now present, and that was no small amount of cute.
"Drink with me and aid me in dressing, My Lady?" Visenya, wrapped both arms 'round one of Dacey's. Beautiful as the other girl was, she had the fierceness and muscles of the North within her, and that was a comfort Visenya hadn't known she missed. One Robb hadn't the chance to provide her with, nor would he, she suspected, for the duration of his stay.
The Gods were kind and cruel in equal measure, so it seemed.
Chapter 15: The Arena
Notes:
Here's part 15, a day late, but I wanted to make sure I liked it before posting; from here, time will begin going faster, Visenya's personality will begin to show without restraint, and much much more to come.
Thank you all for the comments, I hope to get to them very soon, and have a lovely few weeks! (I hope to post the next chapter within 14-21 days!)
(And I hope to get to the comments tomorrow, on my day off)
Chapter Text
Visenya let slip the smallest of sighs as she took in the wheelhouse she was called to join her Mother in. It wasn't as large as that which they'd travelled from Winterfell to White Harbour in, but it was far more ornate, with gold-plated wheels, the wood painted Targaryen red, and a Targaryen sigil affixed to the doors.
It was, for all intents and purposes, a carriage that would make any man proud to guard, and any Royal, prouder still to ride therein.
To her, it meant more. Unpleasant or awkward as a trip might be if Rhaenys were inside, it still beat by far the thousands that would gaze upon her and call out. Gods, how she disliked being at the centre of attention, least of all by thousands of city-dwellers. Polite as the castle servants were, she knew her history; the smallfolk of King's Landing could commit acts most heinous.
"I'll be riding directly behind the wheelhouse, Princess." Ser Loras, stopped beside the stairs, and offered a hand to her.
Inside, she could hear a half-dozen girls giggling, and the commanding, elegant voice of Elia regaling them with a tale of some tourney that Rhaegar won in her honour.
Dacey moved past her to stand opposite Ser Loras, and as she did so, a little look of urging was thrown her way.
Visenya didn't wish to be social. She didn't wish to ride atop a horse under the eyes of the masses either.
Gods.
She wished she were back in the North, kept hidden in her Tower with nary a soul that wasn't family to speak with. That was unrealistic. Aegon and Rhaenys would be cross if they knew her desires; they'd persist in their thinking that she hadn't 'adapted' to her 'true' family.
Visenya took a step forward, frowning at the weight of finery she wore in addition to her frilly dress. Normally, she'd have loved the dress gifted and the attention of Elia, Daenerys or even Rhaenys, despite their growing differences. She could appreciate them near as much as Sansa, even. But when she took notice of a few riders — guardsmen, little more — stealing glances at her as she closed the distance to the stairs, her thoughts went back to the smallfolk. If she could neither go back in time or avoid the crowd in its entirety, then she could do as her sire had in the past and present alike, and use the opportunity to make the people love her.
Vain as it was to say, she knew herself a beauty. One that could see the menfolk fall over themselves in a bid for her affections and attention, and one that could see the womenfolk seethe with jealousy. A hint of recognition, a soft, demure look or wave of her hand, and so many would be enamoured with her, and so few would hate her. Mayhaps she could see the Smallfolk given treats or have a team of Maesters see to ailments for a sennight. It'd cost her naught and see them think fondly of her; she knew what happened if the people despised a royal by way of the many books she'd read or lessons she'd had
"Princess." Ser Loras shifted, casting a glance down the caravan, then back at her. "We should be leaving."
"My apologies, Ser." Visenya dipped her head to the Knight, and made to take the first step up. In doing so, she took a hand each of Dacey and her Ser Loras.
The giggling stopped, and her mother's words ceased as she rose into view.
"Sweet child," Elia cooed immediately from her seat beside a window, turning her attention away from Daenerys, Rhaenys and... a few of the Sand Snakes. "Come, your mother would have a hug." Her arms were spread wide, and her dark, lovely eyes were full of affection.
"Mother." Visenya greeted, and she walked through the wheelhouse, hearing the door thereto close behind her. She seemed to be the last occupant they'd been waiting on... Rickon, her Rickon would be with Robb and the Northmen instead of with her. He was where she too would be if she could; a fact that made her most jealous.
"Fast, sweet girl, your mother's cold," Elia urged her with a pout, and Visenya found her heart softening; she couldn't help it, not when her mother was so caring and sweet. Any venom that might have lingered from her earlier interaction with her siblings was seen frozen solid.
Hadn't she dreamt of having Lady Catelyn treat her so?
"Apologies, Mother." Visenya said with a smile that forced itself free, and she hurried to her side.
As soon as she did so, her mother's arms closed around her, and Elia's chin was upon her shoulder, a kiss pressed to her cheek.
"So quick you were to heed, yet so slow to offer your Mother a kiss." Elia's tone was playful, and when she pulled back to look Visenya over, she smiled... then frowned. Her eyes sought out Rhaenys next, then that look vanished quick as it'd come. "Sit beside me for the ride, my 'Senya?"
"Yes, Mother." Visenya gave her a smile as she slid into a seat so plush she sank half a head into the cushions.
Elia's answering one was radiant.
"Daenerys," Elia beckoned her twin. "You desired the space by your twin's side, did you not?"
Daenerys gave a little happy sound, and moved over. "Thank you!"
Visenya was glad to have her twin sitting beside her, and she took her hand into her own, offering a gentle squeeze. "My twin." She whispered, leaning in close.
Her self-proclaimed twin gave her a soft look, and her free hand went to brush some stray strands of her hair from her face.
"My sweet 'Senya," Daenerys leaned in closer, and her lips met her cheek, a warm and loving kiss placed upon her skin. "I'd sup with you this night, if you'd have me."
"I'd always have you." Visenya's answer came forth in an instant.
"Aww," Elia cooed as she looked betwixt the pair. "How I adore seeing my girls so happy — and 'Senya, lest I forget, we're all to sup together with your pup. Mayhaps you could have a private dinner with 'Naerys on the morrow. We can have our womens' night the following eve. Does that sound pleasant?"
"Oh, it does." Rhaenys was eager for it.
"And does it suit you, Daenerys?"
Daenerys nodded her assent, and then a little, curious look was thrown Visenya's way.
"Of course." Visenya agreed, and she gave her sister's hand a little squeeze.
"Perfect." Elia smiled widely, and sent a look at the Sand Snakes sat on either side of Rhaenys; Tyene and Nymeria, again. No Obara or Sarella. "You'll join us then too, my lovely nieces, yes?"
Nymeria, the oldest and tallest of them, dipped her head. "If it'd please you, Your Grace."
Tyene too made to speak, but Elia cut her off with a disapproving tut sent Nymeria's way. "Niece, niece, niece, how oft need I tell you that Auntie Elia, or Auntie alone is how I desire to be addressed by you?"
Visenya blinked. The same words had been spoken to her not too long ago, when Elia was teaching her what to call her siblings and parents.
Nymeria's cheeks reddened as that pretty smile she wore grew in size. "Apologies, Aunt."
"Near enough, I suppose." Elia let out an exaggerated sigh as her gaze flicked to Tyene next. "And you? Will you hurt your Queen's heart too, little niece? Or shall you be better than your sister?"
Tyene's innocent-seeming, sweet smile given in answer was one that had Rhaenys and Nymeria smiling along.
"No, Queen Auntie." Tyene spoke with a demure air, and a hint of mischief in her eyes. "I'll do no such thing, and if I ever did, I'd make it up to you."
Elia laughed a soft sound, and then rolled her head so as to look at Visenya. "This one's as much trouble as Rhaenys, sweet girl. Be wary of her."
"I shall, Mother." Visenya replied in all earnest.
Rhaenys and Tyene exchanged a look of mock surprise; the former spoke. "Us, Mother? Tyene and I are all but Septas, aren't we?"
Tyene, mayhaps the embodiment of what many a Southron man thought a lady to look like, batted her eyes and nodded her head. "I've not had a single sinful thought since meeting my dear Princess."
"Mmm, I'm certain, my little loves." Elia didn't sound convinced, and the look she gave the pair was that of a woman who was wholly unamused.
Daenerys giggled at that, and her hands tightened upon the one held by her.
Visenya couldn't help her laugh either.
"You laugh at my pain, sweet Visenya?" Rhaenys asked, batting her eyes in much the same way that Tyene had, yet hers were full of mirth.
"Only when you've brought it upon yourself." Visenya said seriously, for she had.
Elia chuckled, perhaps mistaking Visenya's meaning, and shook her head.
"You'll see, sweet sister, I'll win you over." Rhaenys promised her.
"She will." Tyene was eager to add. "You'll love your sister and all of us 'Sand Snakes' come soon enough, Princess."
"Cousin." Visenya reaffirmed. She desired not so much as an issue with any of the Sand Snakes, and beyond that, she knew it'd do her good if they truly favoured her beyond what Elia or her siblings might 'require' of them.
"How sweet," Elia clapped her hands together, and she looked upon each of them with that same look of contented pleasure her and Rhaegar had possessed since first they'd seen her. "I lo— oh! Up, girls, Rhaegar wished for us to see the arena as we grew near."
Elia, as she'd said, was quick to stand, and so too were all her nieces, and Daenerys and herself.
"May I, Mother?" Rhaenys was already reaching for the drapes, an eagerness about her she'd seldom had.
"Of course, sweet."
The moment her sister drew the fabric back, her and Daenerys had no choice but to move closer, and her mother and aunt alike were quick to follow after.
"There." Elia pointed to a great stone building that was circular and tall — the one Visenya had first thought to be the dragonpit.
She recalled Rhaenys making mention of Father having a great deal of work done to it... but now, the thing looked not remotely compareable to how it'd been in her readings.
"This is the King's new tourney centre?" Tyene had found her way right behind Visenya, who herself was squashed betwixt her twin and Rhaenys whilst Elia ensured all had a view.
"Indeed, my little niece, but not only for tourneys. He would also see it used for plays and festivals and suchlike." Elia answered, and then, as she made to speak again, their wheelhouse came to a halt and a series of knocks sounded at the door.
Rather than any Kingsguard calling out, the voice belonged to Aegon. "Mother, we've arrived."
Elia gave a nod and a smile. "Come, we'll have a closer look."
The moment she moved, and the door opened, the sound of thousands cheering filled her ears, and the warmth of sunlight bathed her face.
"Ah." Elia's hands moved to the small of her back, and a gentle pressure saw her moving down the stairs despite the great desire she had to stay inside. "Aegon will see you straight to where you need go, my sweet — Rhaenys, 'Naerys, keep close to her, please."
"Of course, Mother." Rhaenys smiled a pretty, perfect smile as she took hold of Visenya's arm, and a glance showed her twin, the Sand Snakes and Dacey close behind; five of the Kingsguard had even formed a semi-circle around them.
Aegon, handsome as he was, looked her over and smiled a greeting, and then, when a few shouts sounded out, his eyes found hers.
"Shall we, little sister?" He was eager, and when she nodded and the others agreed. His smile grew as he turned his back to the crowd and started them off.
For 'private' as this entrance was, thousands and thousands of people were on every side, and they were being escorted through a wide tunnel, one that was far too long.
"How large is this place, Aegon?" Visenya asked; he'd not get Brother from her.
"It's... big." Was his reply.
Rhaenys' was more precise. "Big enough for eighty thousand men and women, Father said. Mayhaps more, if they're not against standing shoulder to shoulder."
"Eighty thousand?" Visenya took in a deep breath. If the calls for her and those 'round her were so loud, so numerous and deafening, then how loud would the crowd be when there were that many inside a mostly enclosed space?
Rhaenys nodded, and a grin spread across her lips. "Eighty thousand — 'tis what I said, sister. Father began construction on it before he'd so much as thought of Summerhall's reconstruction."
They passed through the tunnel, and then up a great, winding staircase. With Aegon and Rhaenys escorting her, and Elia chatting with her twin and the Sand Snakes —- occasionally including all around them, even her own Dacey.
All the while they climbed, and Visenya grew pink from the exertion — and on account of the heaviness she wore despite how natural it felt to her — her siblings told her of the various improvements Father had had made, and how, after the tourney, he planned to see another project completed.
The sewers, and apparently, portions had already been completed.
King's Landing was not meant for half-a-million inhabitants, and the stench said as much. It was foul, and Visenya was glad the winds were in her favour and not against her, lest she throw up. Her smallfolk these people might now be, and desirous of their love she might be, their pungentness saw that desire dwindle.
"... for our sister's hand." Aegon finished, and while he looked annoyed, very much so, it was Rhaenys that seemed... wrathful.
"Vultures. All who'd ask for her hand are vultures." She sneered, and her free hand, the one not holding Visenya's, formed a fist. "We've only just got our baby sister back and they think they can scheme without our knowing?"
Aegon held up his free hand in a manner meant to calm their big sister. "By way of court, or the sparring yard, I'll make it known all will fall from our favour if they pursue this path."
Visenya had thought their displeasure at Robb heavy, and yet, it seemed those others they spoke of that'd seemingly asked for her hand in marriage were far higher on their list of annoyances.
"Good." Rhaenys sounded petulant, and then she moved closer to 'Senya as they made yet another turn; an elbow, sharp as her slight ones were saw the distance grow again. When it grew brighter from the sun above rather than by torchlight, she let out a pleasant noise and spoke again; this not, not about suitors that'd had the audacity to try and take her from her loving — possibly too much so — family. "Finally, we've reached the chambers Father had made for us."
"What?"
Visenya blinked at her sister's statement. Why would a tourney space, even one large as this seemed to be, have a private chambers? Just how much change had Father seen the former Dragonpit through?
"You'll see." Rhaenys' smile as she gave answer was wide, and her arm 'round Visenya grew tighter.
"I thought you'd not been here before. How do you know so much about it?" Visenya made an attempt at lightening the grip of her siblings and gaining distance, but found herself failing sans a sudden forceful effort. So she gave one.
Rhaenys wasn't one to let go so easily, and looked at her with something akin to shock before an answer was given. "Father spoke with me about it at length while Aegon was in the yard or otherwise busy." She explained, and when they reached a set of double-doors, they were opened. "See for yourself." There was a bit of bite to those final few words, but Visenya minded them not, and stepped forth.
Inside was not one single chamber, nor even two, but seven; each large, and with the centre one having the ceiling entirely removed so that it looked more akin to a balcony than anything.
Aegon guided them through that aforementioned centre chamber, and as they went, their retinue remained behind, as did their family.
"Here it is." Aegon gave a little gesture around as he stopped, pointing to a staircase that went both up to the topmost point of the massive structure, and down to the very edge, where it ended with a railing; that 'bottom-most' part still remained higher than most homes within the city.
Visenya glanced around as Aegon went on, her eyes drinking in the sheer scale of the area, and the detail.
Great marble statues, not unlike the ones she'd seen in the Red Keep and elsewhere, stood in alcoves. Banners, scores of them, and all with the sigil of House Targaryen, hung from the walls and ceilings. The floors were carpeted and the beds made from the finest fabrics, and the tables and chairs were a dark, beautiful wood.
Aegon continued to speak, and her attention returned to him. "I shan't think we'll ever sleep here lest one of you grows weary during the lists or such, but I believe Father hoped to see this Dragon's Arena, or so he called it, be a place where we need not leave betwixt our activities. I must admit, he's succeeded in his design."
Visenya's attention went to the railing, and she took in just how far up they were. Then the distance to the ground, and then the distance from the top of the Dragon's Arena to the bottom of the 'pit' it was located in.
"How did they construct such a thing?" She was astounded, and the fact that it was her father, a man who'd spent so much of his time on his studies and swordsmanship alike, who'd done so, made it all the more impressive; how much renown he must have come the future, when the Maesters write of him. "Were any of the Dragonpit's stones used? Or the foundation?"
Rhaenys shook her head, and with a nod elsewhere, took over leading them. As she did so, she gave answer to Visenya's question — still without trying to make contact again. "Father saw all that was formerly here removed, and had it either sold for reusing elsewhere, or given to the Faith for their use in new structures sans charge. The foundation was completely redone, I think he said, and herein—" she gestured into one of the two side chambers Visenya had noticed earlier. "— is a miniature version of how once it looked. Father had it carved from the largest, non-ruinous stone remaining." Her sister gestured towards the back of the room, and it was there she saw it on a marble table.
A perfect miniature version of the Dragonpit… or so she imagined. What came forth from her readings had painted such a picture.
Visenya, for the first time, took leadership of where the trio went, and she brought them into the aforementioned main chamber.
Her gaze was drawn to the interior, awed at the craftsmanship... and that was just the beginning. There were tapestries aplenty, each with dragons on them, and then a great table and a dozen chairs, and an entire wall dedicated to bookshelves, which were stuffed therewith.
The place, one that could fit tens of thousands if what was said was to be believed, was unlike any other she'd been in.
Was this the power of the Crown? Of House Targaryen?
If so, it was no wonder why they'd won the War for Justice.
Rhaenys gave a pull of her hand. "There's still much and more to see, little sister."
"Much and more." Aegon echoed, his arm slipping free of hers; she thought herself free to walk, then she felt it settle along the small of her back. His fingers curled, and they brushed her hip.
Visenya glanced to her big brother.
He was looking elsewhere, to Ser Jaime and Ser Darry as they grew nearer.
She hadn't seen him or Rhaenys ask for the men of the Kingsguard to come closer.
Of their own volition, her eyes drifted to Ser Loras and Dacey as Rhaenys gave greeting to the two new arrivals, and she caught her best friend and sworn-sword's smiles.
Dacey looked proud, and reassuring. Many a time in her... in her past life, when she thought herself a Stark bastard, Visenya had thought the older girl as a big sister figure. One that aided her in dressing as oft as she gave her tips in the yard or with bow and arrow.
As for her Ser Loras, he had a small, barely-noticeable smile. One that was no less boyish and sweet than when first she'd seen it.
Naturally, her gaze drifted back to her siblings and the Kingsguard that'd joined them when Ser Darry made to leave. Whatever had been said, Visenya had heard it not. In truth, she was fine in drifting away when neither addressed her specifically. That conversation the three of them had shared, the one in which they'd addressed their 'issues', had seen her inner-turmoil made clearer, but never would she convey as much aloud to them.
Or to her twin; as Rhaenys had said, even the walls could spill the secrets of those they housed.
"Visenya?" Aegon drew her attention as Rhaenys walked some few feet away with Ser Jaime.
Gods. That man was as infuriating as her big sister could be — she'd always remember how rude he was when first they'd met, and yet, he'd desired to take her spot in the spar she'd forced with Ser Cletus.
The one that'd been ripped from her by Aegon. "Yes, Aegon?" How tempted she was to be petulant and call him Prince.
"Join me at the peak?" His eyes flicked betwixt her and the stairs, and his visage was one of excitement. Child-like and awed as first she'd been when she'd taken in the… Dragon's Arena, as Aegon had claimed Father called it. "Dragons, we have not, but with Father's foresight, we'll have a grand vision of our city."
Visenya had never been one to mind heights. Her tower, that dark, tight space with little light and a commanding view of much of Winterfell and the surrounding lands, had always been her place of refuge, and though she'd not known, not then, it would be the place in life she'd feel safest. Most at home.
"If you'd like." She'd not betray her own eagerness. Aegon and Rhaenys deserved some level of dissatisfaction given unto them, even if they'd made their 'terms' easier.
Gods.
Visenya couldn't believe how many people were present in the newly-named Dragon's Arena.
Her eyes swept over the many thousands, and her hands went to the railing.
They'd made the trip to the highest point, and Aegon had been right in his assertion that they could see the entirety of the city and beyond from the height.
"Look." Aegon's hand settled atop her own, his fingers entwining with hers despite her state of annoyance. "'Tis quite the sight, is it not?"
His wander was great as her own, and overcame any lingering bitterness… for the moment.
"Indeed." Visenya gave one slight nod, and her eyes scanned the horizon. From this vantage, she could see much of the Blackwater, the Red Keep, the Sept of Baelor and the many roads that lead into the city and the countryside beyond.
"Have you seen anything like this before?" Aegon asked, and when she shook her head, his chest puffed and he turned. His other hand went to her cheek, and a finger ran down the soft flesh.
Visenya took a half-step away, pretending to be lost in gazing at the many sights he'd pointed out — her brother had returned to the state of Southron prince rather than the jealous dragon as he'd been earlier. It was the first instance she'd witnessed it, truly witnessed that was, just how possessive her siblings were, and so now she didn't care to be touched as she was.
Not here, and certainly not now.
"A shame." He gave a small sound of displeasure. "You deserve to be shown all the wanders and beauty the world has to offer, and given every luxury therein."
"I am fine with the luxuries I already have, and those I had before." Visenya kept her voice low and her focus on the many sights.
Aegon's response was curt. "As you say." His hand remained on her own, and the two fell into silence as they admired their surroundings; the thought didn't escape her one day that all of this would, one day, fall to him.
"That much?" Visenya blinked when Aegon made mention of the prizes throughout the four main events; the sum of all was over twenty thousand gold dragons.
"Yes." He laughed at her shock, and when his eyes turned back to her, a hand rose to push a lock of hair behind her ear. "Father said a grand tourney and a feast to end it would make for a fine fortnight worth remembering."
"It does." She agreed.
Rhaenys' arm snaked 'round her shoulder, and her big sister rested her head against Visenya's for some few seconds before the latter pulled away.
"The best part will be the joust." She sighed, and when she turned to Aegon, Visenya noted her eyes were closed.
"And the melee, and the archery competition." Aegon added with a grin, boyish and eager as all menfolk seemed to be when it came to such things. He didn't seem as aware of the tension. "And the brawl."
Rhaenys answered Visenya's question before it could be put to words, and whilst still looking elsewhere. "Our brother has a taste for all that we might bear witness to, but his greatest joy comes from the thrill of the joust — how foolish of me to ask so late, but little sister, you have a favour to offer, don't you? I've my own, and 'Naerys has hers."
"I—"
"— have yours, sweet twin!" Daenerys, for the first time since they'd arrived at the arena, joined Visenya and her siblings in conversation. She held out a red-and-black silk cloth, the Targaryen colours, with an embroidered dragon and a single white direwolf curled around it.
When she took it, Daenerys fixed her with a tentative, almost worried look. "Is it... do you like it, Vis? I'd thought you wouldn't have the time to make one yourself, and I know you've not got as many lessons as you should've. Forgive me if I over—"
Visenya wrenched free of her spot betwixt Aegon and Rhaenys so as to embrace her twin. "It's lovely." She muttered, her hands squeezing tight.
"Oh." Daenerys giggled, and she pressed her forehead against Visenya's shoulder. "Good. I was worried it might not suit your tastes. Or that you'd not want something so..."
"So...?"
Daenerys could but shrug, finding what she meant hard to say aloud or give words to
Visenya kissed her twin's cheek and squeezed her again. "You needn't worry about such a thing. You're my sister, and my twin, and there's naught more precious to me."
Daenerys nodded against her shoulder. "As you are to me."
"You've been busy." Rhaenys sounded amused as the pair disentangled, her eyes witching from one to the other. "I suppose not desiring the sword or bow gives you more time to pursue other talents."
"I enjoy stitching, and such." Daenerys spoke softly, and her arms were quick to return around Visenya's waist, a gesture her twin returned. "And the harp. Rhaegar's been ever so patient with me. He's a good teacher."
Visenya wished to inquire more about Daenerys' other talents, but nary a second after her twin had made mention of them and the origin thereof, Rhaegar appeared.
Mother was the first to seek out his side, and he wrapped his arms around her as if he'd been apart from her for far too long despite the hours — if that — it'd actually been. She thought that strange; the pair were far more affectionate than her first father had been with his lady wife, or the pair to her.
"Father's the greatest of teachers." Rhaenys took up his cause, and when Daenerys and Visenya broke their hold, her hands settled upon their shoulders. "Greet him with me?"
Visenya looked at Rhaegar as she echoed Daenerys' agreement; even now, she couldn't believe the King was her father. There lingered a nervousness, mayhaps fear itself, whensoever she was in his presence. It was irrational, but it remained.
"Father." She offered, and her voice was soft when she reached him — only just, she heard Daenerys at her side say 'brother' whilst Rhaenys' own greeting mimicked hers, only thrice as loud.
"I trust you've seen the full measure of the arena, my loves." His arms moved from his lady wife to encircle the three girls that'd formed a semi-circle around them. "I hope you enjoy its splendours."
"It's the grandest single building I've ever seen." Visenya spoke the truth. Not even the Great Sept of Baelor could compare, or so she thought.
"It's wonderful." Daenerys spoke up, her voice a little louder than it'd been before.
"It is." Rhaenys gestured back to the opening, where they'd sit. "There's tens of thousands of smallfolk assembled already, Father, and we've not the least idea how many will show when the lists begin."
Rhaegar chuckled, and his grip on them grew tighter.
Visenya didn't mind it.
"All the better." He spoke, and a look was exchanged between him and Mother. "The love of the smallfolk throughout the realm is hard earned, and harder kept. I should hope henceforth hosting a harvest feast and tourney on occasion as well as keeping them well fed should continue to do so."
Visenya, for the first time since waking and being told what'd happened, found herself thinking on her... the other life.
Winterfell's people loved her father, and those few guards her former father had given her, like Jory or Brandon, as well as the servants that she'd seen, especially the cooks, had loved her just as well.
It was endearing to think the Targaryens too were loved by their people, and not only feared or loathed as most said they were... but mayhaps one eve she would see if that were the truth. There were many a servant that lived in the 'city' below working within the Red Keep, and so one could be cornered and made to answer her questions.
"Escort me, daughters?" Rhaegar spoke again once he broke the embrace, his eyes flicking betwixt her and Rhaenys, and when his arms lowered, one came up to wrap about the Queen's waist.
Daenerys gave a pout as one of her hands slipped into one of 'Senya's. "No love for your little sister, Brother?"
He chuckled. "Who else but you and my dearest wife might be by my side when the feast starts?" Rhaegar let out this forlorn-sounding sigh. "Your brother grows old, sweet sister. Soon, my children will grow to the age where they need not the company of their father, and leave him to the comfort of their mother."
"You insult me, husband," Elia prodded his side in a manner that broke her Father's composure, a laugh bursting forth. "I have more name days than you. If you think yourself old, am I as the Queen of Thorns? Mayhaps the Crone herself?"
"I should think not, wife." His arm pulled her closer, and he pecked her brow.
Daenerys' nose wrinkled, and Visenya couldn't help but snicker at the reaction.
Rhaegar stole another kiss from Elia, this time to her lips.
Daenerys gave an audible sigh while Visenya pointedly looked elsewhere as colour came to her cheeks; her former father would seldom kiss Catelyn, and very, very rarely on the lips.
"Daughters, sweet sister," Her mother turned, her tone exasperated, yet it held a hint of laughter. "You act as if the world will end if Rhaegar and I were to show affection for one another."
Rhaenys seemed more than fine with it, her own smile coming easy. "Mother, Father, it's hardly that." Her hands gestured to Daenerys and Visenya. "We've got our little sister and Daenerys to protect, and the sight of two people kissing is a terrible sight to behold, isn't it?"
At the expense of her twin and herself, laughter.
"Away with you, daughter, and bring us our wine." Elia shooed Rhaenys away, the princess laughing and her dark curls bouncing behind her as she did so.
Daenerys, in a manner not unlike the way a child might, stuck her tongue out.
Visenya, though her eyes had followed Rhaenys, returned them to the King and Queen — no, she corrected herself, her Father and Mother. Aegon and Rhaenys were right in that manner. Elia had done much to earn the title of 'Mother.'
"Come." Rhaegar's eyes, her sire who'd given her much of his looks, bore into hers.
And so Visenya let him lead her away as Rhaenys rejoined them.
It was time for the very start of the tourney to commence.
As Father spoke brief words that highlighted his happiness in opening this space, amidst other things like a new sewer system soon to be finished — she thanked the gods for that — or the continued vast supply of food to the city, Visenya took in those seated nearest to them. It seemed whilst he'd had made a 'Royal quarters', there were other spaces made for the highest of lords.
Like the Tyrells who were half-a-person down to their left, and had near a score of their garden seated with Lord Mace and Lady Olenna at the head.
On their right, and lower to that same degree, were houses she had a harder time in remembering by banner. It was only her tutor, Vaella Velaryon, that gave way to one, and aid from Daenerys, the other; how strange it was to see others that looked so much like her, and have them not belong to the Targaryens.
And what sort of name was Celtigar? And why crabs for their banner?
Visenya shook her head as her Father took his seat — when she saw that, she only sent a second's glance over her shoulder to see who was seated on either side of them without the decline. Lannisters and Stark banners were left and right, and there, in the centre directly below, were a myriad of House Martell's.
As she recalled, those below had a passage directly to the one they occupied.
As she waited for the very start, she couldn't help but reflect on what'd occurred in so short a time. Near a moon she'd been on ship, wheelhouse or in the Red Keep with little to do that interested her.
But now, it was the opening day, and archers, the finest from the Seven Kingdoms, would soon put to show all of their talents. She herself would have amongst the greatest of views to a tourney that'd most certainly be read about in centuries to come… though perhaps that was embellishment on her part.
Visenya leaned forward in her seat, eager to see the first set of men loose their arrows as a horn blared.
The first man's arrow sailed through the air, and struck the bullseye dead-centre. The next of the five that he'd loose at the target, landed in a similar fashion, then his third sailed wide, striking only the very edge.
His fourth flew true, and his final was a miss.
Not a great showing, and the man seemed to agree as he stalked off.
"Poor form." She whispered to herself, and her eyes sought the next of the first grouping of men. He seemed as slight of build as her, if only a head taller.
Visenya leaned further forward still, her rear at the very edge of her seat. She was almost of a mind to stand.
Gods, seeing the arrows loosed and seeing the many different forms the men had as they did so was almost thrilling.
Her fingers ran through the silk cloth of her dress as if she too were readying to draw a bow.
She turned to see if the others found this just as enthralling as she did, and grew distinctly… disheartened by what she saw.
Rhaenys, a half-empty goblet in her hands, was leaning back with her eyes closed. Aegon, next to her, was only half paying attention as he spoke with Ser Darry whilst also miming a draw, and Daenerys was whispering something into Mother's ear; whatever it was, Elia seemed to find it amusing.
Her gaze flicked finally to her father, and as soon as it did, Rhaegar caught her eye. Visenya felt that spike of nervousness even as he offered a small smile.
She felt foolish for getting excited, and when the second round started, she sat back in her seat and folded her hands in her lap.
"Not enjoying yourself, my sweet Visenya?" Father had stretched towards her, and after doing so took up her hand for a gentle squeeze.
She swallowed. "It's a nice tourney."
"You've not seen the likes of one before, have you?" He inquired. "Nor seen the finest archers across the Seven Kingdoms compete."
"No, I haven't — I mean, this is the first tourney I've witnessed, Father." Visenya found it odd how hard his hands felt. He had so soft an appearance, and yet, beneath his skin was steel. "Thank you for it, and all that comes with."
Rhaegar squeezed her hand, and she looked back at the archery field.
It was a few moments more before her Father spoke.
"Would you like to know how a final victor emerges?" He asked her. "Or mayhaps the rules?"
Did he know of her interest in archery? Had the Spider told him? Her siblings?
She swallowed. How horrible the existence of a man like the spider was. "I would know both… but quietly? I don't… I'm not simple."
Just as Rhaenys or Aegon's eyes had hardened when they made mention of Robb or her affection towards him, Father's gaze turned steely.
"You're not simple. The fault for your lack of knowledge lies with those who stole you from us near ten and six years ago."
"Father—"
"Visenya," His voice was firm. "I do not say these things out of malice, or anger. One cannot change the past, and I'd not harm the family of your mother — your family. I have you now. I have you here, and that is the most important thing."
She swallowed again.
"Now, my dear, I believe I had much to explain."
As if timed by the gods themselves, Father's soft comment was accentuated with a loud, uproarious cheering for the man that'd just scored a near-perfect fifty points.
To think she'd missed it.
And yet, as Father went into detail — with no small amount of jest or comment to add — she found she cared not for what she'd failed to see.
Visenya did a little twirl to shed errant energy from the eagerness that'd come about, and when she was finished, she smiled a little shyly at her father.
In the back as she was, she thought only Dacey and Ser Loras able to see her. Yet, as he oft did, her sire had looked over his shoulder after words had with Mother; he made not so much as a comment, but the happiness he wore as he turned back to converse with his wife and her twin made her heart beat a little faster.
She could be happy here.
Visenya could see a future in a way she hadn't been able to before.
No. No, that was wrong.
Here was no heart tree. No eyes for the Old Gods to watch and listen. On and on the list of negatives grew, and it was with a great amount of reluctance — queer as it was — that she realised this life was not hers.
It couldn't be.
Why was this so confusing?
Visenya shook her head as she started down the remaining steps. Aegon and Rhaenys were a pace behind her — she'd made certain to move ahead of them — whilst Daenerys was at her side.
Mother and Father, as they oft did, led their house with arms interlocked and these little whispers to one another. The open affection the two showed for each other was something she could never get used to.
Yet, they were the perfect picture of love. All stories of gallant men showed them as loving as her father seemed to be; warriors, proven and powerful, and gentle, as many a dangerous man could be towards those he loved.
Visenya was torn in what she should make of the sight; home, Father and Catelyn had never displayed such affections, and the thought of a future with her current father and mother brought a pang to her heart.
How could she want and not want the same thing?
Gods, but she hated the confusion.
Her head hurt.
"I hear Robb Stark had an issue aboard his ship," Daenerys spoke up at her side, her twin seemingly knowing that Visenya needed a distraction.
She gave her little sister a small smile and tightened the hand that was holding hers.
"Not serious, I should think." Visenya hadn't seen so much as hint of issue when she'd greeted them… which left her curious. "Do you know what caused this 'issue'?"
Daenerys gave a little peek 'round to make sure none were listening. When she confirmed their relative privacy, she spoke again. "Rumours claim two beasts are aboard the ship he used to reach port. I hear that they're wolves."
Northern Wolves? This far South? Gods, the poor things.
Visenya blinked at her twin. "How likely to be true are these... rumours?"
"Likely," Daenerys made a little noise in the back of her throat then, and her face showed an innocent eagerness. "Robb would never risk bringing such creatures with him without good reason. I would think he means to make a gift to you. One or both."
Visenya had no reply for that.
"Oh." She said after a time, her heart beating a little quicker, and she was unable to hide the little smile.
He'd given her a hound pup once before, 'til father had it taken back to the kennels. She could visit it... but it wasn't to stay with her.
Visenya wondered if he meant to make that up to her on her sixteenth name day. Gods, would a Wolf be a gift.
"Girls? Aegon?" Elia called over her shoulder, her eyes flicking between the four of them. "We're to sup an hour past our return. Will you be ready in that time? Would you like my help?"
"Mother, I'm more than capable of dressing myself." Rhaenys laughed.
Visenya hid a smirk as Elia sent a pout Father's way. "My eldest desires not my company. See, Husband, I'm all old and without purpose now."
"I'd have your help, Mother." Visenya used her softest voice, and sent the sweetest of smiles the Queen's way.
It worked.
"Of course, my little Visenya." Elia gave a sniffle, her voice a dramatic sigh, and her husband let out a snort. "At least our youngest loves me."
"Oh, dearest, don't be like that." Rhaegar pressed a kiss to Elia's lips as he drew her towards him with a gentle hand upon her chin. That playfulness vanished from the older woman when Rhaegar whispered something into her ear, and her cheeks grew ruddy.
Visenya rolled her eyes and looked back to her twin. Daenerys, ever so proper now, kept her eyes forward, her cheeks tinged pink from the exchange she'd heard, if not seen.
"You'll join Mother and I, won't you? I'd have your company — we could ready Rickon together too." Visenya loved when she could have Daenerys and Rickon together; it was a feeling of wholeness, for the two were just as affectionate with one another as they were with her. Mayhaps Rickon thought on account of her and her twin's likeness, she'd simply split in two by way of some of Old Nan's magic.
Her little pup could be easily impressed. Gods. She'd never tire of his giggles.
"I'd love to." Daenerys' dimples were on full display.
"I'll find you both an hour hence." Elia had a breathiness to her voice, and as her and Father's feet met the level ground of the street that'd see them back to the Red Keep, she veered away to a second, smaller wheelhouse with Father at her side.
Visenya had nary a second to answer before she was off and her twin saw them start forth once more. This time, they'd be aboard the grander wheelhouse with Rhaenys, the Sand Snakes, and by the look of those approaching, Vaella and her sister.
"Princess Visenya, Princess Daenerys." Vaella Velaryon dipped her head and gestured to the girl that was very much like herself, only smaller, and with eyes of a brighter purple. "My sister, Baella."
Baella seemed as soft spoken and quiet as Vaella was, and Visenya found herself thinking the girl had an interesting appearance. She was a beautiful maiden, no doubt, with her long, silver hair done in a thick braid and her dress that was a dark shade of blue. It was her face that was peculiar; sharp and freckled. One the likes of which stood out from the soft features of Daenerys or Vaella.
"A pleasure, Lady Baella."
"You received my invitation then?" Rhaenys approached with Aegon by her side; the pair split when they reached 'Senya, and sought out her back and free side.
"I did, Princess." Baella nodded her head. "We're very grateful."
Eager to rid the formal air, her brother spoke up. "A fine show the archery's been, hasn't it?" Aegon asked the three women, and they all nodded.
"If you like such things." Rhaenys shrugged, clearly not fond of the bow despite her eagerness to see Visenya let loose arrows.
"What of you, 'Senya? Dany?" Aegon had seen the latter rounds, when the 'weakest' groups were well-finished, and apparently, taken notice of Visenya's clear interest in the competition.
"I thought it worthwhile. There were many I wish to see more of, like Ser Balon Swann. He has great form. Did you see him? The third group."
"He had an admirable performance." Visenya had noticed the man because he'd seemed refined and patient; skilled... and had a handsome face. She'd not seen him since he'd won his grouping, but she knew he'd be in the continuation of the archery competition on the morrow.
"And you, Daenerys?"
"I was distracted," Her twin blushed and avoided eye contact. "But the last group had a man who did well. He had an interesting manner of loosing arrows."
"You're talking about that man from the North. What was his name?" Naturally, the eyes of all those gathered 'round fell to her.
And so Visenya had to recall that which they spoke out; it didn't take long.
Eddard Karstark, his name was. She'd seen him on many occasions in the presence of Robb. Seldom, if ever, had she herself interacted with him given the need for privacy her F-Uncle had stressed back then. He'd been a solid archer then, and it seemed he'd improved since; she still thought herself better.
"Eddard Karstark. One of my cousin Robb's companions. He was a decent archer before, but I'd not expected such a showing." Mayhaps he was better than she'd thought when viewed those scant few times.
She wondered if that meant she too was a superior archer to most that'd been competing, given she knew she was better than him and any other from Winterfell. Mayhaps amongst the greatest in the North, if she herself were asked.
"He gave a good show." Aegon opened his mouth to say more, but paused when his eyes drifted past her, and further down to her right. Such was the spot where many of the high lords climbed aboard their carriages or horse; the reason for his pause was immediately made known to her.
Robb.
He was approaching with a few men at his side. There were the Karstark boys, the aforementioned Eddard and his brother, Torrhen, and some knight of House Manderly.
Aegon did well to hide his mounting displeasure as they came close, but his gaze was nonetheless cold-seeming when they stopped, and the five men bowed low.
"Prince Aegon. Princesses." Robb had his eyes solely on her even as he greeted the other Targaryens that all but encircled her.
"Cousin." Visenya was glad that he'd approached. Mayhaps that hug and the look she'd sent him thereafter had reminded him of their closeness.
Aegon took lead of the conversation before she or Robb could speak to one another any further. "Lord Robb. To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?"
Rhaenys did less to conceal her displeasure with his company. Visenya's earlier hug likely didn't help, and the Queen-to-be's eyes narrowed on him.
"I've come to thank your family. The King's hospitality and generosity has been nothing short of exceptional." Robb smiled her way again. "It was his and yours' kindness that had my men and I able to compete. I wish to thank him for the honour and opportunity."
"You're very welcome." Rhaenys said cooly, and turned her eyes to the other men that'd accompanied her cousin. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we need to get back to the castle."
Robb dipped his head and stepped back.
"Good day, Lord Robb." Visenya bid him, her eyes holding his until she was forced into the carriage.
"He's bold," Aegon muttered once their party had left the tournament grounds, and the wheelhouse started them back to the Red Keep.
Daenerys took up her cause whilst the Velaryons were distracted by the Sand Snakes; Visenya couldn't hear their words, but whatever was being said had the girls laughing.
"He only means to be nice. Do Tyene, Nymeria and the others not do the same with 'Senya?"
"He's a man grown." Aegon's brow rose, seemingly confused on how Visenya or Daenerys didn't see issue with his presence. "He could desire a match."
Visenya nearly gagged at the thought… 'til she thought of returning home. It wasn't as if he need bed her either. Not if they played the court and all others involved, somehow.
"Visenya would never." Rhaenys' words were knowing, but she kept not the current course of conversation. Instead, she called attention to the weather as she opened one sliding hatch to see the bright blue sky above. As she did so, she sniffed, and promptly snickered upon seeing the twin looks of disgust from 'Senya and Daenerys alike. "You're babes. The smell's not half as bad as it once was."
Visenya did naught but shake her head and peer outside.
Gods, with evening fast approaching, the beautiful clear sky above would soon turn a lovely shade of orange. It'd be a sight she'd never tired of, no matter her life, or feelings of the day.
Ahead, and as the women around her settled into conversation, she saw the gates of the Red Keep draw open to admit the King and Queen's wheelhouse, and she felt a thrill rush through her.
Home.
How queer to her it seemed that already, the Red Keep was beginning to feel more like home than Winterfell ever had.
Prisoner she might be in either 'home' she'd known, twas here, surprisingly, where more freedom could be found.
She'd been in her chambers, seated atop a fabric-covered chair with a view that overlooked the Blackwater for nary a blink of an eye — or so it'd felt — before a knock sounded at her door. With great reluctance, she tore her eyes from the ships and lights that littered the harbour and moved to the door, calling out her permission for the individual to enter.
It was a messenger.
One that carried word from Robb, Ser Loras had said as he trailed in after the messenger boy.
His accent was harsh and Northern even to 'Senya's own ears. "Princess, Mi'Lord Robb wanted it told that 'e's got a gift for ya. A special one."
Ser Loras rolled his eyes, clearly finding the boy's manner of speaking off-putting. She didn't fail to notice how the messenger's smile slipped as he glanced between her and her guard, then Lady Dacey when she emerged from an adjoining room.
"And you've brought this... gift?" Visenya's eyes could see no sign of any gift, lest it was incredibly small.
"No, m'lady." The messenger swallowed hard, and then his eyes widened near-comically wise. "M'P-Princess. Meant no offence."
Visenya blinked at the boy. Tall, with hair on his face and sturdy of build he might be, all the same, he was as she had first been; as she still was, on occasion, in the presence of Royals or Nobles alike.
She desired not to be the cause of such feelings from others, and so she sent a gentle, soft smile she oft reserved for only those closest to her. "And you gave none. Now, where is this gift?"
"At the docks. Lord Robb said 'e'd take ya, Princess."
Her nose wrinkled.
That presented a problem, given Aegon's words about only meeting with him when it was permitted. By Aegon himself.
"Ser Loras? Could you have my brother summoned?" Visenya turned a look his way, and the knight nodded, moving off to pass along her words on her bidding. "And thank you..."
"Bryden." The lad said.
"Thank you, Bryden." This smile was more genuine. "Now, if you don't mind, I think it best if you return to your lord. Stop in the kitchens for something hot to fill your belly before you do. Your Princess commands it." He looked peckish, and she knew the food here was very different to that which her Northern kin might eat from first-hand experience. Mayhaps it was the inner 'mother' in her that many claimed all ladies possessed — a funny thought, and little more than a fishwife's tale, in truth.
"Yes, Princess." He bowed his head and backed up to the door.
Nary more than the time it took for his footfalls to be silent, Aegon entered. His expression was calm and collected, as was his attire, and Visenya felt a stab of embarrassment at the idea of her brother seeing her dressed in a more casual fashion. Mother, 'Naerys and Rhaenys had all yet to arrive, given it wasn't near-enough time.
Aegon had no such problem with her apparel, thinner and light as it was. His eyes seemed to sweep her with something akin to approval.
"My little sister," He smirked. "What can I do for you?"
"My cousin Robb has sent word he came with a present, and has asked for my presence at the docks to receive it."
Aegon's brows furrowed. "Did he say what this gift was?"
"No. But his man said 'twas a 'special one'. I suspect 'tis a... pup, of a sort. Or pups." She could hope, no?
"Early for a name day gift." Aegon said those words more to himself than to her as he drew closer, as he and Rhaenys always seemed to. "He'll wait until the morrow, when, early in the morn after your Valyrian lesson, we'll go together. You, me, and Lord Robb." The way which he said Robb's title, or mayhaps 'twas the name itself had her frowning.
"Of course. I'll pass along word. Only the three of us." Visenya wouldn't thank him for taking her along.
"As you wish. I hope..." he paused, and sent Dacey a look that had her move back; it didn't fail 'Senya that she'd hesitated a second's time, until a nod was given. "I hope you're aware Rhaenys and I meant not to hurt you. We're simply… you… I mean to say, we love you. Dearly. We have entirely too much to make up for."
"As you say." Visenya's voice was quiet, and steely.
Aegon let out a sigh. "One day, I'll hear the words said back to me." He kissed her forehead, smiled at her, and gave a dip of his head. "Until tomorrow, Visenya."
When he'd left, she and Lady Dacey exchanged a look, and 'Senya was reminded that her guard knew well the inner workings of her mind, and her feelings, too.
Thankfully, the gods took mercy on her, and that awkwardness was dealt away as her Mother and Daenerys' presence were announced.
"I'll get the drinks." Dacey's words made 'Senya snicker as her Mother and Daenerys entered the room.
After the day she'd had, they'd be sorely needed… and how else might she be confident enough to try her hand at wrestling her she-bear sans the courage of wine or ale?
Chapter 16: Winter
Notes:
Here we are with Chapter 16; sorry for taking about a week longer than intended, I hope to get Chapter 17 within a week or so to make up for the later post of this chapter. I promise a minimum of 2 updates per month.
Thank you very much, and I hope you enjoy (I've loved responding to all of those comments of yours!!)
Chapter Text
Dinner with naught but her family had been a pleasant affair. Mother and Father were in fine moods, as had seemed to be the case in perpetuity. They'd been happy, and had spent the majority of the evening exchanging words and glances with each other. Love the likes of which one oft only heard of in stories, she thought theirs to be.
'Twas the only part of the dinner which she had paid true mind. The rest had been lost in the haze of her own thoughts.
Thoughts on her family. On her future. On what lay in store for her.
She was tired of always thinking such thoughts... yet as time went on, they only encompassed more and more of her idle time.
Mayhaps that was why she was so eager to meet with Robb. He was as much a piece of home as Rickon, but he served as a far greater distraction.
Visenya took in a breath as her hands gripped the stone of her parents' balcony. Her eyes, despite having overlooked the dark water, only now began to take it in; the moonlit surface glistened and twinkled as the waves gently crashed against the shore.
Behind her, the curtains that gave privacy to those atop the balcony rustled, and a chill crept up her spine. She turned 'round, a startled gasp escaping her when she found the figure looming there was not that of her Father's or Mother's, each having been who she'd expected
"Aegon. You scared me."
"Sorry," Her brother said with the same smirk Robb would wear when he’d do so purposefully. He gestured inside a moment later. "Mother was worried, so I volunteered to check on you."
"He didn't come alone either, our sweet brother," Rhaenys appeared from the shadows beside him, and unlike Aegon, who only had the slightest of slurs that betrayed he'd been deep in his cups, her words nearly mingled together. It seemed her elegantly dressed, and ever-present sister had drank far more than she or Aegon each.
Drunken royals had scores of tales written of them. Few were good.
"I'll return." Visenya stepped away from the balcony, dropping her hands therefrom as she made to brush past her siblings.
Only, her brother didn't budge, and Rhaenys was suddenly very close. Too close.
"If I didn't know any better, Rhaenys, I would think our little sister's grown distant as of late. She seems not to desire our company." Aegon's tone was playful, but his words were not. There seemed in them a genuine question; a genuine hurt even.
When Rhaenys next spoke, there was the same mix in her words. "'Tis not so. Isn't that right, Senya?"
Visenya had a hard time meeting their gaze. "I've only been distracted, is all."
"By?" Aegon raised a brow, and the pair of them leaned closer.
"A great many things." Visenya answered without pause.
"Such a vague answer," Rhaenys shook her head, her hair swishing over her shoulder and falling down her back as her arms wrapped 'round Visenya. The smell of wine and Rhaenys' own scent, that of honey and a sweet summer's breeze, filled her nose and nearly made her dizzy.
Aegon's hand touched her side, and he leaned over, his lips pressing to her temple.
The two of them together, so close and in her personal space... it was not the first time, and as had happened — rare as it was — before, there seemed a quickening of her heart as strange feelings welled-up.
"Do we bore you, Visenya?"
You don’t bore me, you make me uncomfortable.
"No." Visenya got out, and her face heated at the sound of her own voice. It had to be the wine that made her feel queer as she did. “I’d like t—”
"Good." Aegon's arm slipped behind her back and around her waist, and he tugged and Rhaenys both further from where their parents and the Kingsguard stood. "I know... I know I expressed not the same interest when first we met that Rhaenys did, but, little sister — I, I'd not have you feel any less loved by me. And how we've acted as of late... we know jealousy is unbecoming. We’ve been… not as royals should be."
Visenya frowned and opened her mouth to speak, only for her sister's finger to touch her lips and shush her.
"Not jealousy." Rhaenys' smile was slow, and her hand fell, cupping her cheek. "We simply desire what's ours. What you perceived as our jealousy was... born of a want, a desire, to have you close, and know all of you." As Rhaenys' words finished, her hands fell to 'Senya's hips, and the woman stepped forward, pressing them closer. “I love you. Truly. I’m just horrid at showing it.”
Aegon's hands were not idle either, and Visenya found his lips on her ear. "You've stolen our hearts."
"I... don't understand. Allow me t—"
"You will, sweet sister." Rhaenys whispered, and her lips were on her cheek.
Visenya let her head fall back, the sensations and touches overwhelming her; she closed her eyes.
"Rhaenys," Aegon's tone held a warning, and when she opened her eyes again, the man was scowling.
"You're no fun." Her sister muttered, and moved away, taking 'Senya with her.
"Come, 'Senya. Our parents will grow concerned, and they'll worry. Let us return." Aegon's voice was gentle, and when his eyes found hers, there was a fire within that burned hot, but not so bright as to be blinding.
Visenya closed her eyes as the pair led her back for parting words with their parents, and for her pup, who Elia had swept up in her arms to fawn over.
Why did her siblings spawn such conflicted thoughts? Rage and… that thing bastard girls felt.
Visenya rose to find a body, small and fragile-feeling, tucked into her side. When her gaze drifted down, she saw the shaggy hair atop the little head, and a small smile curved her lips.
Rickon.
Her pup.
She must've been tired and drunken if she'd stolen him away to her chambers; all the same it made for the most wondrous of mornings.
"Rickon, sweetling." She ran her hand through his hair, and his face burrowed further into her side.
Her heart melted, and as a breeze swept in from the open window, she shivered.
"No." He whined, and his arm tightened 'round her waist.
"But, the sun is shining, and the morn has come. Don't you wish to break your fast?" Visenya's smile grew, and the lad groaned, his grip loosening and allowing her to pull herself free and stand.
"Warm?" He cracked open one eye, and wiggled into where she'd been. That lingering warmth her body had left.
Visenya let out a little morningy laugh and shook her head, that wild, silver-gold hair atop her head falling every-which-way. Since it seemed Rickon was intent on laying in, she would take in the view of the water while she tended to the wilderness atop her head. She knew she could have many a lady tend to it for her, but it brought a comfort she wasn't willing to let go.
Her bath and dressing was much the same. Why would she desire a stranger's hands on her when she was more than capable of bathing and dressing herself?
She sent a look over her shoulder, to her curled up pup just to assure herself he was there and hadn't wandered off in the time it had taken her to move to her balcony, and when she confirmed to herself his presence, she stepped out, a breath of fresh air entering her lungs and making her chest rise and fall with the force of her inhale. It was filled with the scent of flowers and sea alike, the former scent of shit somewhat lessened.
The heat of the day only just registered, and she looked up, to the sun that warmed the earth, air and her.
In an instant, her eyes flicked back to the water, a spot in her vision from peering up at the bright, Southron son. It didn't last, but as the after-effect of it faded, her sight landed on the water below. So many small boats with fishermen atop them were out, and some of their haul were already being pulled aboard.
The sound of the water was relaxing, and soon enough, her eyes drifted closed as she leaned back against the sun-warmed stones.
The warmth of the sun, the sound of the water, the feel of the wind, the smell of the air, the taste of salt on her tongue...
Gods.
Visenya opened her eyes again, her gaze once more finding the boats.
She'd very nearly forgotten. Aegon would be along shortly, and then, with Robb, they would see to her gift.
What would it be? A pup, as she suspected, or a horse? Some other manner of beast? Mayhaps even armour.
In truth, she hoped 'twas a pup.
A gentle knock on her door pulled her from her thoughts, and her gaze turned that way.
"Princess?" Dacey's voice called from the other side. "Prince Aegon's arrived."
Visenya pushed away from the wall and returned inside, a smile already tugging her lips.
"Tell him I'll be but a moment. Just long enough to see to my little wolf and dress."
"Aye, Princess."
With Dacey's agreement, Visenya rushed across the room and over to her bed, where she dropped to her knees beside it and reached out. Her hand brushed Rickon's hair, and when he peeked up at her, his eyes half-open, she smiled and kissed his forehead.
"Sleep, if you like. I'll return shortly."
He didn't respond, and so, Visenya rose again and made for the dresser in the adjoining room that contained her clothing. A moment was all it took her to pull a jerkin and leather breeches from its confines and change into them.
When her boots were laced, she looked back to her pup.
He was sleeping again.
With one final kiss pressed to his forehead, Visenya left her room and met her brother, Dacey, Ser Loras and Ser Jonothor... and near two-score Targaryen Household Guard.
"Good morrow, Visenya." Her brother greeted her, his tone jovial.
"Brother." She dipped her head.
Aegon wasted no time in looping an arm through hers and leading her out. "Did you sleep well, little sister?"
"I did… were you and Rhaenys well?"
"As always we are."
Visenya was a fool to think either he or Rhaenys would speak about their drunken behaviour the eve past; thinking of her sister. "Is Rhaenys not joining us, brother?"
"She had other business to attend."
"Oh." Visenya blinked, surprised. Pleased, dare she think.
"Don't let it worry you, little sister." Aegon's head fell closer to hers, and his voice lowered. "You'll have plenty of time to spend with her later. For the moment, alas, you'll have to deal with me alone."
"I don't mind." In truth, 'twas a relief. She might not love Rhaenys or Aegon, not so soon, but there was a genuine, dear affection for each… when the utmost annoyance and anger at their controlling habits wasn’t taking over. Still, she’d admit despite her misgivings about the cause of their... abundant affection, it was ever-present, and far more manageable when it was but one or the other — they could’ve been much worse given the many tales throughout history that spoke of Targaryens and the attention they gave their siblings.
"You shouldn't," Aegon said, seemingly pleased enough with her answer that his words had some humour in them as he stood taller. "'Tis a grand morning, truly. The sky is clear, the sun is shining — the gods have blessed us and the tourney both."
Visenya laughed. He thought as she had; the day was good, and for a change, not overbearingly hot.
Then, as they grew nearer to where Robb was given his chambers for the duration of his stay, her brother's hand fell away from her arm and onto her lower back, she didn't protest the possessive touch for a myriad of reasons.
She didn't know why, but something told her he needed that from her.
"My Lord Stark," Aegon dipped his head, a gesture Robb mimicked as the former appeared at the head of a small group of a half-dozen.
"Prince Aegon." His eyes had swept over the prince in all of a second's time, his gaze far preferring her. "Princess Visenya. You look radiant this morning."
Visenya ducked her head. "Thank you, my lord." Aegon's fingers dug into her back, but she ignored him. "The docks?" She couldn't hide her eagerness.
"Aye, Princess." Robb smiled.
Aegon looked betwixt the pair, then he gave a nod. "You'd prefer to ride, Sister? Would that be right?"
At first, she made to say 'no'. There was no desire to be seen by the masses. To be called to by the tens and thousands that would look upon her.
And then she thought, was she not promised a ride come soon? Atop a horse she felt more at home than being upon her own two legs. Her mount back home, at Winterfell, had been all but an extension of herself.
Would that not be better than some simple wheelhouse that'd see her confined?
Gods, comfortable as the fabric and the padding within was, it did nothing to alleviate the boredom and the restlessness. If anything, it added to it, for she was left with the sounds of the outside whilst she was hidden in a glorified box atop wheels prone to breaking down.
"A ride, aye." She nodded, allowing the eagerness to ride atop a horse to make up her mind. Anxious as she might be in dealing with the smallfolk, the smell of horse and the feel of a saddle betwixt her legs, the leather reins wrapped 'round her fingers, and the wind whipping past her was far preferable; mayhaps that lattermost desire wouldn't come to fruition given the tight streets of King's Landing, but a Princess could dream, if nothing else.
Aegon used the hand he had on her back to turn her and lead her towards where she knew the stables to be. "We'll meet you by the gate, Lord Robb. My sister's in need of a mount worthy of her."
If Aegon's use of 'my sister' bothered Robb, he did a most superb job at hiding it, for the only change in his expression was the smile that shrank only a small amount.
It had taken far longer than she had anticipated, and as she rode atop ‘her’ mare, her brother to her right and Robb on his, and finally, their respective men trailing behind them, Visenya was glad to have a horse beneath her. She'd not known just how dearly she'd missed the feel of one betwixt her thighs.
They were headed through the gate, the great portcullis above raising as they neared.
"Do you miss the North, my lady?" Robb asked, drawing her attention from the sky and the clouds.
Visenya sent a look Robb's way at such a question. With Aegon present... twasn't a wise one. "I'm not entirely fond of the heat here." She swallowed, for the next words she spoke came after she thought of Rhaenys and Aegon's recent behaviour. "But the South has its merits."
"I agree." Robb seemed to find her answer appeasing.
"Lord Robb," Aegon's tone had a sharp edge, and he cleared his throat. "I hear tell you'll enter in the joust and melee both. Is that right?"
"Yes, my Prince." Robb dipped his head, the motion respectful, but a certian defiance shone in his eyes, a glimmer. "And the team melee as well. Nary a Northmen of my party saw fit to sit out, so I can't but take up arms for the North's honour."
Aegon gave the widest, most pleased of smiles when he heard all that Robb wished to take part in. She had hoped — and initially thought — that his reaction was as it'd been when he'd heard of her and her proclivity for two daggers... but when she peered more closely at his smile, she noted the same look any man had in the yard; a thirst.
'Twas almost as the smile of a predator, not a man happy to see his sister's cousin. "How fortuitous." Aegon said as finally they made to depart from the Red Keep, a score of guards ahead and behind them, two Kingsguard at their flanks, and Dacey following right behind; all mounted.
"How so?" Robb seemed to play the fool as he kept Aegon fixed with a cool, confident look.
"My sweet sister has yet to be graced by the sight of a good joust." He answered. "'Twould be a shame for her not to be able to see the best of the best, wouldn't you agree?"
Robb dipped his head then. "Most certainly, my prince."
Visenya wanted to stop the pair from their game of words lest it go too far.
But then her throat constricted, as if something were squeezing her windpipe, and she couldn't do naught but watch. She balled her fists 'round the reigns of her mount. Her nails, which were exceedingly long by her standards, dug into the meat of her palms.
There were far too many people, be they merchant, smallfolk, or nobles alike, lining the streets. It was a sea of people, a wave of bodies, and she was drowning in it.
Gods, she didn't even realise they'd gone past the first row of stalls and stands until someone grabbed her knee.
"Sister?" Aegon's voice was but a whisper, but it carried over the sound of the crowd, and her eyes turned downwards.
His hand was on her knee, and when her gaze snapped upwards, she saw the concern written clearly across his features.
Gods, another moment of fleeting nervousness that he or Rhaenys had been witness to. Would that she could be back in her tower, away from the calls and gazes; it was one thing to know a few dozen in Winterfell, but this was unlike anything she’d ever thought of. Yearn as she might to make them all love her… Gods, there were so many.
"I'm fine." She muttered.
"Are you certain?" Aegon's hand rose to take hold of one of those she'd dug into the reigns. "Your hands are trembling."
"I'm fine." Visenya repeated, and her hand was pried loose from the leather and his grasp. She couldn't help the look of annoyance. "Why must you do that?"
"What, worry for you?" He asked, his tone light.
"Yes."
Aegon cocked his head at her, and next, he coughed. "Lord Robb. We grow near to your ship, is that right?"
"Aye, it is, my Prince." Robb didn't sound quite as calm as her brother.
"I imagine you'd like time to prepare it ahead of our arrival." Aegon gave a little nod, and with nary a word said, Ser Jonothor began to make clear a path for Robb and his few Northern guardsmen.
"My Prince." Robb bowed his head, and then, his horse began to pick up the pace.
"Brother," Visenya began as the distance between their party and Robb's grew, "You needn't se—"
Aegon's hand fell on her leg once more, and the grip was tight. It was enough to silence her. When he spoke, his voice was low enough that the crowd 'round them and the noise thereof nearly drowned it out. "You drew blood," he gave a nod towards one of her hands, a trickle of red dripping from her palm.
Visenya looked down at the mess and gave a snort. If he thought that amount of blood an issue, then he was far, far too naive; Rhaenys had left out much of what being a woman was too, came a second thought.
"My mistake." At least with their guardsmen closed tight around them, and Aegon taking up much of her view, a semblance of the calls and eyes of the hundreds or thousands or tens of thousands watching were blocked.
"Sister," his voice was but a whisper again, and he leaned close. "Is there anythi—"
"I'm fine," she bit out, the irritation rising. "Don't ask again."
She took a breath, and sent him a slightly apologetic look. Annoyed as she might be, it wasn't all his or Robb's fault. It traced back to her mind, and the dozens of thoughts in her head.
Her eyes turned skyward, and she stared at the clouds as her horse continued onwards. One long exhale later, and her hands stopped shaking, and the feeling of rope' round her neck slackened. Confident that her voice would be clear, she opened her mouth. "My apologies, for being short. I... find myself with a headache."
Aegon didn't say a word, not initially, but he gave her leg a squeeze, and the hand remained there for a while after. Eventually, he pulled it away and straightened himself in his saddle. "Do you need to return to the Keep, sister?"
Had he guessed what'd unsettled her, or had she made her nervousness of those gathered around obvious?
Visenya shook her head, that long, silver-gold hair of hers shifting with the motion. "No. It's improved since the onset." She looked around then, taking in — for the first true time — the area that surrounded them. She thought she'd heard it was called River Row, but there seemed more than fishermen and sailors alike. The dozens of stalls with goods that came from the sea... she presumed, and the smells, and the calls of those hawking their wares went beyond what she imagined simple fishmonger or trader's stalls to contain.
"Has something caught your eye, sweet sister?" Aegon asked.
"This place..." she began, "River Row?"
"Mm," he hummed, "The name is correct. 'Tis where the fishing vessels and ships dock to sell their wares."
Visenya nodded, as her eyes continued to drift betwixt the dozens of stalls. "It's more than that. Like that one—" she pointed to a place where strange ribbed, stone-like pieces were having necklaces made from them, and then, to another that touted 'pearl necklaces' — she knew only vaguely of such things, but the two guards near his station seemed to indicate they were pricey. "—Or the one by its side."
"You mean those that trade not in fish or other such creatures from the sea? Yes, 'tis common, especially now. They're drawn by the influx of gold that the tourney is bound to bring."
"I see," Visenya murmured, and her eyes turned back to the man and his wares. There was something about them that was so alluring, those little beads.
Aegon, missed little as Rhaenys did, and started his mount towards the stall. "My Prince." The man greeted, bowing low.
"Master...?"
"Fyne." The man replied.
"Master Fyne," her brother continued, "What wares do you have to sell?"
"Beads, My Prince, as you can see. Pearls, coral, and jade, some even from the far East. Some seaglass too!" The man bowed low time and time again as he spoke, his eyes flickering betwixt the two Targaryens, and then the two Kingsguard that were mounted nearby. "If there is anything that catches your fancy, it's yours, My Prince! It'd be my honour and pleasure."
"My thanks, Master Fyne." Aegon smiled that princely smile. Then he took one of the strands of pearls and held it out for her to inspect. "See something you like, little sister?"
Visenya took the strand in her fingers, and rolled them along the beads. The texture was odd, not at all what she expected. "They're lovely," she commented, and then her gaze fell upon a small collection of jade and coral pieces.
"Pick whatever you'd like." The man, Master Fyne, bowed again.
"Oh," Visenya felt her face heat; she had no coin of her own, and simply taking from the man seemed poor of her. "I couldn't. 'Tis not mine to take."
Aegon laughed at that. "Oh, come now, Sister. I can afford a dozen or a hundred times the worth of all he has. Let me gift this to you."
"Brother," Visenya frowned, and she looked up. His smile was so very sincere, so sweet, he seemed, and it melted her.
She looked back down, and her fingers traced a small, carved, white jade pendant, and her eyes found the next item. It was made with those ridged, stone-like... things. Her fingers gently traced the first one in the string, and her fingers felt the grooves and valleys.
"Shells, Princess. The best, whole shells a man can buy." Master Fyne, clarified, and then, she saw his eyes turn to Aegon, who was holding a pair of strings in his hand.
"I want these." Her brother's voice was low, but it cut through the sound of the crowd and the waves as they crashed against the docks near to them. "The jade and coral necklace. And the seashell one my sister touched. All of it."
Visenya looked down. "Oh," She blinked. Her eyes flicking betwixt the man and her brother. "Brother, you shouldn't waste your coin."
Aegon had Ser Jonothor give the man some few coins — gold dragons, she thought them to be — as he responded to her, one hand finding her chin to tilt her head upwards, and her attention was taken from the exchange. "'Tis not a waste. It's a set of gifts. The first of many for a sister that should've had tens, if not hundreds by now." He was incessant, his fingers moving to the strings of the pearl necklace that'd first caught her attention, and gently, slowly, wrapping them 'round her neck.
He smiled wide as could be once the knot was finished.
Visenya felt her face grow warmer still. "Thank you." She dipped her head, her eyes finding his feet as uncertainty gripped her.
"Think nothing of it." He replied, and the hand returned to her cheek. "You're my sister. 'Tis not a thing for which you need thank me."
She looked up at him as he beamed down at her; he was back to the gallant Prince she'd first seen at Winterfell. His face, sharp and masculine, but not too severe, and his hair...
It brought forth those queer feelings only he and Rhaenys had.
"Shall we continue, sweet sister? I'm sure Lord Robb is ready by now, lest you'd rather visit another stall?"
She swallowed, and then gave a nod. "We can continue." Why was he acting so sweet?
Dacey aided her in hopping off her mount of the day despite the lack of need for her to do so; it was proper and expected, she'd learned. So much was 'proper and expected' of her with the title of Princess that now attached to her name.
Aegon took up the spot by her side as soon as her feet touched the wood of the docks, that hand of his returning to the spot it'd claimed at the small of her back.
"Lord Robb, you're prepared?" Aegon called out to her brother as Ser Loras, Ser Jonothor and Dacey took up their spots 'round the two Royals.
Robb looked up from the men he was speaking with, and then gave a nod. "Aye. The Princess' gift is ready, as is the one for my brother."
Visenya smiled to herself then, Daenerys’ words ringing as a bell might; mayhaps she and Rickon both would get a pup.
"Excellent." Aegon replied, the fingers of the hand he had upon her back making small circles. "Shall we?"
The walk down the length of the docks and then aboard Robb's ship was short. Visenya whispered to Dacey about what it might be as Aegon and Robb spoke — it seemed sans Rhaenys’ presence and with Visenya herself firmly beside him, the typical… well, she couldn't quite call it 'rivalry’ between the pair, had eased.
Soon enough, they reached a door that had two Stark guardsmen stationed in front of it. They moved aside, and Robb gave her and Aegon a nod, gesturing to the door. "Princess, my Prince, it is within."
Aegon gave a gesture. “By all means, Lord Robb. We’re all eager to see what you’ve kept under lock and guard.”
Visenya agreed as she rocked back and forth atop the balls of her feet. She’d never been patient, and always had she despised being left in wait regardless of what for.
Her northern brother dipped his head, and then opened the door, a loud bark, yip, and the sound of paws running on wood echoing forth.
And then, the door opened fully, and there before her were two of the largest pups she’d ever seen
One was white as snow with red eyes, while the other was the exact opposite. Its fur was the darkest black, and its eyes a brilliant greenish hue.
She took a breath, and the scent of canine wafted into her nostrils.
The two pups — though they were too big to be considered so, but that didn't matter, for her and them both — were running circles around one another.
They were large. The biggest pup-like beasts she'd seen in the entirety of her life.
"Gods." Visenya breathed, her eyes wide as she watched them.
"They're massive." Aegon added.
Robb coughed. "As big as they are, they’ll only get bigger — direwolves are said to get so big as to equal a horse."
"They're direwolves?" Visenya asked, her voice breathy and excited.
"They are." Robb answered, his smile growing. "Got the black, wild one for Rickon. White is for you, Princess."
"Me?" Visenya's lips turned upward and the beast circled 'round her legs. "What do I call him?"
"Whatever you'd like, sister." Robb replied.
She paused for a moment, waiting… and then she bent her legs, and her hands rose, the large, furry head of her new friend sniffing at them, his snout rubbing along her palms and her wrists, and then, he licked.
"Oh!" Visenya laughed as his tongue swiped at her fingers. “Winter is my first thought. It fits him, doesn’t it boy?” She ran her hands over the thick fur, feeling the muscle beneath the coat.
He nipped ever so lightly, and his tongue swiped again.
"Aye, it does, Princess. A fine name." Robb said, his smile wider than before.
Aegon hummed, and the sound made her look away from the beast — direwolf, her mind corrected, not beast.
Did he disapprove? Was it not 'proper'?
"I think 'tis a good name," he nodded, "Certainly fitting."
"My thanks." Visenya replied, her lips turning up further, and the direwolf — Winter, she'd named him, and thus he would be — nudged his head into her hands.
"Do you like it?" She asked him.
He made not a sound, and licked her face, his tongue running across her cheek and nose as he hopped on those little hind legs of his.
"I'll take that as a yes." Visenya laughed.
She stood up, Winter following her movements with his eyes, and then, the direwolf nudged his head against her stomach. There was the strongest of urges to lift him into her arms and hug him, but she knew she shouldn’t until she was back in the sanctity of her chambers, or some other more private space.
"May I touch him, Visenya?"
Aegon's voice drew her eyes, and the smile she wore softened as she took in his awe. "Of course." She replied.
Her brother knelt before the large direwolf pup, his hands reaching out, and the beast let him pet the fur upon his head. It didn’t seem as fond of him as it — no, Winter — had been with her, but that was natural. She had a way with creatures, or so she'd been told.
"A greater gift, few could've offered." Aegon commented, the words quiet as his hand stroked the fur of Winter’s head.
“I agree — thank you, Robb, truly. A direwolf of my own. There are no words I can offer, nor gifts that could begin to repay such a kindness. If you ever have need of anything, please don't hesitate to ask."
Robb shook his head, and opened his mouth…. but then he closed it. Whatever he’d desired to say first, he had decided against. Instead, a smirk replaced the smile, and the words that came out were far from what she imagined. "I’d have a meal with you and Rickon, if I might be so bold, Princess. Your company is missed.”
"That's hardly a reward,” Visenya looked to Aegon once those words were said. She hoped her pleading gaze was good enough.
It was, and the Prince of Dragonstone gave her a nod. "You've heard her, Lord Robb. We will make it so, but, there is an inclusion that need be made."
Visenya tilted her head, her brow creasing as she waited to hear just what this change he desired would be.
"I’ll join the both of you and my squire-to-be for this meal you make mention of — and I’ll bring with me a gift for you, Lord Robb, in payment for the generosity shown to House Targaryen this day."
Robb smiled, and dipped his head. "You honour me, Prince Aegon.”
She knew him well enough to know that smile wasn’t wholly genuine. Undoubtedly, her former brother wished not to share her company with any.
But the Prince would not budge.
"Well, Lord Robb," Aegon rose up from his knees, and dusted himself off, his hand reaching out to give Winter one last pat. "You have our thanks, once more, for so wondrous a gift. Now, I fear my sister and I have a long day ahead of us, and thus, we must part ways for the moment. We will see you for this meal later, yes?"
"Aye," Robb replied, his smile strained.
"Excellent," Aegon nodded, and then his hand returned to her back.
Visenya bid a final farewell to Robb, and swooped up her little Winter, the direwolf pup nuzzling his head into the crook of her neck and her chest as she hugged him tight.
"He'll sleep with you." Dacey said, the smile upon her lips bright.
"Yes, I should hope so." Visenya replied, the direwolf giving her a lick on the cheek that made a giggle come forth. One that had Aegon's attention drawn to her.
"Come, sister." Her brother urged. "You'll wish to beat Lord Robb back if you're to see Rickon receive the pup meant for him... that does leave me to wonder who'll care for th—"
Visenya cut off her brother as he led her back to her mount. "I will care for his pup and Rickon both," She gave a little scratch behind Winter's ear as her newest pup wiggled in her grasp and licked at the exposed skin of her neck. "And of course, you as well."
Winter licked her nose, and she laughed.
"A direwolf and a dragon," Aegon mused as they reached the end of the docks.
Visenya had wanted to make a quip. Then the noise of the smallfolk — a constant presence that only grew when the sighting of a Targaryen down in the city was made — registered, and the urge was lost, and in-place of it was that tightness at her throat. She likened it to how being strangled might feel... though, she doubted one's tongue felt as heavy or clumsy during said happening.
Winter let out a noise and shifted in her grasp, and she held him tighter.
With him to focus on, the weight that had fallen upon her eased, and she took a breath as Aegon helped her atop her horse.
"Are you sure you can ride with him, sister?" He asked, his voice soft.
Ser Loras offered aid without pause. "I could hold him for the ride, Princess."
Dacey, however, knew better; she'd seen Visenya atop a horse and knew all that which she was capable of.
Thus, her Sworn Shield only sent her Kingsguard a look of bemusement as the former mounted at Visenya’s rear, atop the fine, Northern courser she’d come with.
"I'm fine, thank you, Ser Loras." Visenya answered, her hands gently stroking the fur of her direwolf as she adjusted the reigns with her other hand.
She was half tempted to ride ahead as quickly as she could to outpace the crowd that’d only swelled as a river might the longer they’d been present. Of course, she didn’t, given how likely a Southron man was to act dishonourably towards her.
“Princess?”
Ser Loras was looking at her queerly now; had he failed to hear her response? Surely the calls and shouts of the smallfolk hadn’t drowned out her reply.
Or perhaps the way she'd gone quiet for too long a time without noticing. She seemed to lose much and more in the way of time to idle thoughts.
"I'm fine, Ser. Truly." Visenya answered, a gentle squeeze of the heel of her boots urging the mare forward.
They rode off then, the hooves of the horse making a rhythmic clomping sound as they headed back whence they’d come.
Winter’s presence, Aegon and Ser Loras’ — Dacey’s now… all served to see that sense of tightness and nervousness that welled up under the gaze of so many, eased, and before she knew it, the feeling was no more.
If only it’d be gone with no chance of returning.
Visenya fell back, spreading out atop the rug near to her hearth and giggling wildly as Winter pounced, the large, fluffy mass of him landing on her and the breath escaping her.
Her hand came to rest on his head, her fingers scratching him behind the ears as he nuzzled his head against her chest and gave her cheek a lick.
"Sister," Aegon called from his spot near the door.
She tilted her head back, her hair pooling on the floor as she looked up at him, a smile gracing her lips. "Yes, brother?"
"Lord Robb’s returned. He’ll soon be ready for Rickon. If you'd like, I could escort you to fetch your pup, or send a maid for him."
Visenya shook her head at the latter suggestion, the motion easy. "I'll get him myself, thank you."
Mayhaps she too was possessive.
Aegon’s eyes fell to the neckline of her dress and the expanse of flesh left exposed, that action stopping her from rising to her feet; she swallowed when they trailed further down her, his gaze lingering where the swell of her chest would stick out most.
"Brother," Visenya said, and then paused, the word coming out a tad breathier than it should have — she needed to stop this.
Her brother looked up, and their eyes locked. He was still staring at her, and her cheeks reddened as a myriad of emotions ran through her.
"You do intend on escorting me, yes?"
"Of course." Aegon nodded, and his eyes left her body and returned to her own. Next, he held aloft an arm as he made to move nearer. Some three or so steps later, and when he was all but standing over her, Aegon bent his legs, and held a hand out. "If you'd permit me."
"My thanks." She smiled, the words whispered as his hand came around her, and he pulled her up from the floor, Winter letting out a yip as her arms wrapped around her brother's shoulders, which caused him to squeeze betwixt them.
He was close. She could feel the warmth and the firmness of his body, the scent of his soap and the horse he’d ridden alongside her.
Visenya put to rest that uprising of queer thought that’d been more common as of late, and made to put distance between her and her brother.
She maintained the arm he desired to loop through one of her own, but, there was enough space now that she could breathe without taking in the air that’d only just been in his lungs.
Caution; much and more would be needed, and sweet looks or sweeter words… had to be seen as what they likely were.
Flattery. Distraction. Lies.
Visenya wished to let out a huff when Aegon only made to rub her back with that same, tentative — awkward — smile not uncommon when Rhaenys’ presence wasn’t close at hand.
Visenya had the most infectious of smiles on her face as her attention flicked between Rickon in one arm, and Winter, who was nestled in the other.
The little boy — who was rapidly growing as he ate and slept on repeat — was petting her ‘little’ direwolf pup, who, in return, gave his fingers the occasional lick.
"They like one another," Visenya was all but musing aloud to herself as she watched Rickon and Winter play — the gentleness of both wasn’t lost on her.
Until Aegon opted to speak up. “A wolf loves a wolf, who could have guessed?"
That seemed far from subtle in her mind, lest she herself was the one overthinking or reading into the subtleties sentences ofttimes seemed to have in the South. Mayhaps that was the case, and her brother was being little more than a teasing sibling.
Robb had been as much, and Arya, Gods. She’d been the truly wild Stark.
“I can only imagine how he’ll be come soon.” Visenya’s eyes returned to her two pups following the short exchange with her brother. Rickon made it seem with his giggles and squeals and incoherent words as if Winter was the most glorious thing he’d seen in all of his life. In fairness, she supposed for his three years, he very well could be.
“How’s it go, sweet sister?” Aegon’s brow was furrowed as he made to recall something; by the look he wore, it was at the very tip of his tongue.
Visenya cocked her head at him in silent query. She couldn’t very well guess what it was he meaning to say.
"The lone wolf dies. But a pack survives?”
That phrase from his lips made Visenya’s steps falter and her blood run cold as the northern land she did so miss, even if it wasn't said quite right. And so, with her eyes locked on his, she put forth her question. “How do you know that saying, brother? It isn't of the South.”
What she didn’t add was; wrong as he'd said it, not so much as a word of it should be known to him.
Mayhaps the spid—
“Mother.” Aegon took on a look of gentle sadness as the name left his lips. “She said it was said oft by h— your birth mother.”
Lyanna Stark.
Queen Lyanna Targaryen, formerly of House Stark.
Visenya found her voice after a few false starts and a clearing of her throat. "She did, did she?"
He nodded. "She did."
Visenya looked down at Rickon and Winter upon hearing his confirmation. Her little pup was licking the babe's cheeks, his little tongue darting out to swipe across Rickon's face and make the child giggle, a sound that made her lips turn up at the corners.
"What else did she tell our Mother?" Visenya asked, not looking up from her pups.
"She told her about her favourite flower," Aegon chuckled, his smile turning wider. "A blue winter rose."
Winter let out a little huff of air at the same time one paw incessantly swiped her chest.
Visenya gave her newest pup a stroke on the top of his head as a thought struck her; winter roses... her Uncle Eddard had oft taken them down to the crypts of Winterfell. How many of those trips he'd taken had been to visit the mother he'd kept secret from her until a moon or two past? And even then, it hadn't even been him to inform her.
That was wrong of him.
"I see." A pregnant pause followed in which she and Aegon both observed the pups held in her grasp. "Thank you." There was little else she could say.
He'd given her information about her mother. A woman whose very existence had been a closely guarded secret.
Just like her own.
Aegon gave Winter a pet, his hand only just brushing hers. He seemed not to notice her shiver, his eyes solely focused on the pup in her arms. "Of course, sister. Anytime. Anything you desire. I should hope I've made that clear by now."
She made to answer.
But it was then that her cousin Robb's presence was announced.
"Lord Robb." Visenya greeted him with a dip of her head.
Rickon was in her lap, and her pup was resting in-between the two.
"Princess Visenya." Robb inclined his head in return, the formality a mockery; were the Targaryens not insecure, she'd be able to embrace both sides of her family. His eyes fell to Rickon after his greeting. "He listens to you better than he did Mother."
That made her snicker as Winter gently climbed into her lap, the direwolf's front paws moving around the babe's side as he sniffed at Rickon's hair.
She smiled and made to fix a few errant curls as she gave answer. "Rickon's been better behaved than many a squire I've heard in the yard." That hand of hers moved from her little cousin's head and fell to her pup, her hand stroking behind ears that were entirely too large for his body.
"I fear I'll need have words with our knights, little sister. Their lessons mustn't be thorough, if this is true." Aegon's hand did as hers had just done to Rickon's and tucked strands of her long, silver-gold hair behind her ear.
Visenya wouldn't contradict him in the presence of her cousin... but she knew for a fact that Oberyn and Viserys both said words far more crass than any she'd overheard whilst observing the menfolk spar. Truly, all the squires spoke of that she found unsavoury were kitchen wenches they’d glimpsed or fondled, or whores they’d paid for what pleasures they could afford.
Oberyn and that paramour of his had whispered words that’d had Rhaenys and Aegon blushing. Much of it had gone by unnoticed, or without Visenya’s understanding, but those few references she’d managed to comprehend were enough to make her squirm and keep her eyes downcast ‘til they’d ceased.
And so, instead, she lifted Rickon higher in her arm, and directed his gaze towards Robb. "Look who it is, Rickon. Your brother's come for a visit."
Winter was nipping at her free hand as her babe's attention turned towards Robb. Rickon mumbled something and motioned for him to come closer, her pup seemingly shy on account of the half-dozen people in the room; she couldn't blame him. Visenya had found crowds of people or spaces that were too open or large caused her throat to tighten and her hands to clench at her sides despite her wants.
Robb came closer, more so than any other save for Dacey, her Kingsguard or the Targaryens, but before he could reach out to take Rickon from her, Aegon was there. It came as no surprise to her that he desired not for Robb and 'Senya to touch, and again, she'd not do anything to contradict that desire he and Rhaenys each possessed; Robb's company, neutered as it was, was far preferable to none at all.
"And here you are, Lord Robb," Aegon said, as his hands stole Rickon from her chest, and made to hand him over to her cousin. "My future squire's in your care."
Visenya bit her lip when she saw Rickon have a hand on each of the pair. Her little pup seemed as conflicted as she, and, in the end, opted to return to her based on the way his hands and eyes sought back whence he'd come.
But she couldn't deny Robb his time with Rickon, especially not when he had a gift of a kind not even she as Princess of the Seven Kingdoms could give. So she sent him as encouraging a look as she could, and spoke as Robb finally got 'hold of him. "Ser Loras, could you send to have someone bring some honeyed cakes? Rickon does so love them."
"Of course, Princess," Ser Loras replied with a dip of his head and a slight smile.
As he made to take some few dozen steps towards a servant, she swept towards a space at the table with Winter now occupying the both of her hands. The little Direwolf was as much a cuddly, loving pup as her Rickon seemed to be... the only difference was the frequency of nibbles or nips at her fingers.
"Come, brother, Lord Robb." She smiled and took a seat, and was quick to have the pup sit beside her, her hands coming down to stroke him behind his ears. "Sit."
And so, they did.
Not a moment later, one of Robb's men returned, and with the pup from aboard the ship now in his grasp.
When another guardsmen entered after him with another pup, greyish of coat and larger in size, her eyes sought out Robb's with a silent question therein.
"Grey Wind." Robb gave answer just as quickly as she'd given question. "Mine own. In time, you'll have to meet all the others, Princess. Arya nearly stowed away just for the chance to introduce you to Nymeria."
"Nymeria?" Aegon chuckled. "Ahh, I remember now. Arya was Lord Stark's rather spirited daughter."
"Father would be glad to hear her referred to thus, my Prince." Robb's lips turned up, though his gaze remained on the two direwolf pups as his men made their way near to the table. As soon as the one with his own pup grew near enough, he took hold of it with one, strong-looking and veiny hand, and placed it in his lap.
Visenya watched as his attention left her brother's, and his focus was solely on the wolf pup.. for a few seconds' time.
For the second, the one black of coat, was his gift to give to Rickon.
And the boy was quick to notice.
"Puppy?" Rickon asked, pointing at the direwolf pup.
"In a way." Robb took the second pup from his guards' grasp — his own barking up at him, offended on account of the lack of attention now being paid to it — and set it down on the space beside him that'd see it nearest to Rickon. "He's yours."
Rickon looked up at Robb with wide eyes, a 'Mine?' coming from him as his attention shifted again, this time back to to the pup; then it went back to Robb again. Those adorable little eyes even sought out her own as Robb gave clarification.
"Aye. Yours to keep, little brother."
The boy let out a loud cheer that brought laughter from her, Aegon, Robb and the handful of others.
As Rickon raced 'round the carpet with the three Direwolf pups, his belly full and giggles ceaseless, Visenya couldn't but let out a sigh and smile. In a scant few hours' time, she'd gone from having naught but Rickon to care for, to having a small litter of her own.
Already, she could hear Rickon demanding he and his pup bathe and eat together, and sleep in the same bed, and play in the Godswood, and everything else. Save for the foremost, Visenya would happily see the pair spend all their time together.
"Your cousin is a good man," Aegon spoke up.
He'd not yet left her side after escorting her back from the meal she'd had with her aforementioned cousin.
"Robb's always been that way." She was looking over at Rickon and his new-found pals. "He's one of few with a truly good heart."
"That, he most definitely seems to be."
She turned to look at him, the question already on the tip of her tongue.
"You'd not expect me to say otherwise, would you, sister?" Aegon's hands found her hair, and began to stroke through it, and then, his fingers were twirling some of her silvery-gold locks around them. "I've seen the way you look at him. How your face lights up, and your smile becomes the brightest. I've much to live up to when it comes to filling the shoes of a brotherly figure."
Visenya found it strange, his lack of annoyance as he made mention of her looks at their cousin; Rhaenys' would've been far more possessive and volatile. An apt description for her elder sister, that. Yet still, she could be sweet as the honeyed-cakes feasted upon earlier, and as playful as a child — as her Rickon — and that wasn't to make mention of her affection, her love, all which had seemed true.
So instead of acting antagonistic or demure, she simply sent him a look she stole from Rhaenys — that of a playful challenge — and nodded. "I suppose you do."
Visenya leaned back atop the plush cushions of the settee and let her eyes take in the ceiling above. She'd taken a bath, and changed from her gown prior to her return to the tourney ground — the arena, most called it — and yet, despite all that she, Aegon and Robb had done that morn, she'd been amongst the first to arrive.
Mother and Father were present, of course, and speaking with Lord Mace, Lord Tywin and a half-dozen others of import, but Rhaenys and Daenerys both had yet to appear, and Aegon... well, she'd spent the vast majority of her morning in his presence, and so she'd sought out the silence tha—
Winter let out a little yawn and pawed at her chest, the pup having snuck into her lap without her noticing.
"Hello there, sweetling." Her hands moved down and began to stroke and rub him behind the ears. "Is the sun too much for you too?"
He'd been moving with a pant betwixt her and the balcony's edge for the better part of the morning, the little pup seeming to find the light too bright.
He gave her a strangely intelligent look, and then his head tilted up and his tongue darted out, giving her a lick on her chin.
"So affectionate." Visenya smiled and let out a little giggle, the pup's affections infectious. "And so cuddly."
Her pup let out a second yawn, and then he was nuzzling up to her stomach and her breasts and his eyes were fluttering shut.
"Go on, love. Rest." She pressed a kiss to his head, and continued to pet and rub him behind the ears.
Visenya let her head fall back atop the plush pillow once she'd made certain her pup was comfortable, her hands coming to rest on the little pup’s back.
She hadn't known she'd closed her eyes until she opened them again, the sounds of a clearing throat causing her to do so.
"Vis." Rhaenys' voice reached her ears.
Slowly, and with a yawn that had her squeak, her head was lifted, and her eyes focused, and sure enough, there her sister stood. She was dressed in a red gown with black trim and a silver dragon-necklace at her throat.
"Rhae." Visenya smiled and sat up a little more, one hand holding Winter close as the other made to brush what strands of hair she could from her face. "You look lovely." A kindness; Visenya was feeling especially pleased this day.
"As do you." Rhaenys came and took a seat beside her, their legs touching and her hands moving down to pat the little pup atop his head. "Introduce me, Sister?”
"Oh, I suppose." Visenya gave the little pup a kiss on the top of his head, her arms curling him against her chest. "Rhaenys, this is Winter. A gift from Robb."
" A wolf? Or am I misinformed?" Rhaenys' fingers stroked across the pup's little head, her touch delicate and gentle.
“A Dire Wolf.”
The flash of surprise in Rhaenys’ eyes gave way to a frown shortly thereafter, but it was gone in an instant.
"How fitting." Rhaenys' hand fell from Winter's head and came to rest atop her own. "Make room for me?”
Visenya shifted back, pressing her body against the back of the settee as her sister made herself comfortable. She couldn't help but let her gaze flicker betwixt Winter and her sister.
"He's adorable, Vis," Rhaenys said as she began to rub and stroke the pup's fur. "You'll have to show him to Dany — Gods, Balerion will be absolutely cross when I return home smelling of wolf."
“I hope she’ll be more surprised than you seemed to be.” Visenya poked at Rhaenys; with Winter betwixt their bodies and wiggling ‘round, some level of space had to be kept so as to avoid squishing him.
Her sister let out a snort, her hand coming to rest on Winter's head as he tried and failed to climb atop her lap. "You should know me better than that, little sister. There's very little I don't hear of well in advance."
Visenya bit her lip and leaned against the armrest. "Oh?"
"Mmhm." Rhaenys made to continue, but upon the noise of the crowd picking up, Visenya leaned up.
Had she missed archery on account of the nap she'd accidentally taken?
She made to rise, her hands finding purchase in the fabric of her seat, when a hand was laid atop her own.
"It's not started yet. Father wishes to wait for our sweet little aunt," Rhaenys pressed in closer, her breath tickling 'gainst the shell of her ear.
Visenya was just about to speak, when a voice, one that was most certainly not Rhaenys', reached her.
"I'm here."
She turned and her lips spread in a smile.
"Daenerys."
"Twin." The silver-haired girl inclined her head, a hint of a smile on her lips.
Rhaenys' pout was the first thing Visenya noticed upon turning back to face her elder sister.
Visenya used that momentary distraction that Daenerys' presence had brought, and rose from the seat, the pup held tightly against her breast. "You remember the 'gifts' you spoke of, sister?"
Daenerys gave a nod as her eyes found Winter; the coo that left her mouth and the way her fingers twitched were proof of how much she desired to hold the pup... if the way her steps, quick and purposeful, didn't do so already. "I d— is that?"
"My gift." Visenya raised Winter up, earning a myriad of licks upon her face and a giggle from her twin as she drew near.
Daenerys' coo grew loudest when Winter turned towards her, and then, the pup was being torn from her arms, and the little dragon-girl was pressing him against her cheek, a laugh leaving her as he licked and nibbled and made a fuss.
"He's a beautiful little thing," Daenerys murmured, her hand running through snow white fur.
Visenya didn't reply, content to watch her twin and her newest pup interact; the sight was precious.
Rhaenys, however, wasn't one to be left out of anything, least of all a conversation or a petting-session with a pup, so it wasn't long before her arms were encircling her waist and her head was on her shoulder.
"I'm the first to meet him, though." Rhaenys' said petulantly.
And right as Mother, Father and Aegon joined the trio
As one could imagine, Aegon ruined Rhaenys' fun by correcting her.
"I fear I was the first to meet Winter, Sister. I was there when Lord Robb handed him over to our 'Senya." If smugness had an embodiment, then Aegon's words would've been it.
Visenya watched with a smile — and that same sliver of worry as when others held Rickon — as Daenerys passed Winter over to Aegon. Rhaenys, naturally, had to hurry over to his side so as not to be left out of the pup-petting. One could hardly tell she preferred cats based on how she fawned over Winter.
It was endearing, and brought her back to how Rhaenys had first been.
With that thought in mind, Visenya's eyes wandered, her gaze going over to her parents, where she'd seen Mother smiling and Father rolling his eyes and the both of them looking like they were having a private conversation, when Daenerys spoke.
"I was wondering..." Daenerys began.
And then, she went quiet, her attention going back to the pup as it nipped at her finger.
"Wondering...?" Visenya prompted.
Daenerys turned back, a small smile on her lips. "Could we sup again tonight? With your pup—" Winter let out a bark and Daenerys giggled at the call for attention. "Pups — I'll need remember there's multiple henceforth."
There was no world in which Visenya would ever deny a request from her twin, so it was only natural for her to nod, and agree. "I'd love to."
"Good."
Rhaenys maide a noise. "Mayhaps the three of us could have a night to ourselves once the archery is done?"
"The four of us, Rhaenys." Aegon very quickly corrected her.
Rhaegar shook his head. "You and I will be supping with Prince Oberyn, and Lords Tywin, Mace, and Robb as a show of friendship betwixt our families." Before he turned his head to look at Mother as she readied to speak, he shot Visenya a soft and genuine smile; it was as awe-inspiring as ever.
"And me and the girls will have an eve to ourselves." Elia finished for him.
Visenya smiled, and her hand sought out Daenerys' own, their fingers interlacing as Winter wiggled from the latter to the former.
She'd not mind a meal with all the women of House Targaryen.
But first, there was archery to watch; Gods, this was exciting.
Chapter 17: Caught
Notes:
Here we are, as promised, with the second update of the month.
Final edits for 18 are underway, Chapter 36 (the start of the final arc in this story) is now being written. If we get ahead enough with the edits, by 40~ or so, the update schedule will shift to 3 chapters a month if possible. Sorry for the long time this takes, and I hope you're all having a lovely week.
(Thank you for the comments, it's always fun interacting with you all and hearing your thoughts; I love the diversity in opinion especially!)
Chapter Text
Ser Balon Swann was a bowman, a Knight, and from what little she'd heard her siblings say, a man of honour. A trinity she thought impossible for a Southron man, yet Ser Balon proved otherwise.
At least in regards to his archery talent. For a knight, he was exceedingly skilled with a bow, the arrows striking true each time he loosed them, and the crowd's cheers and whistles and applause growing louder and more excited each time. He seemed a favourite of theirs, or mayhaps it was simply his show of talent that'd won them over.
He wasn't alone on the field, of course, there were a score of other Archers that'd made it to the final showing, and not a one of them was poor or incompetent, but Ser Balon stood out.
Another did too, a lowborn that'd somehow managed to make it so far.
And as the Archers were taking their places and preparing for their last 'bout' so to say, the crowd's attention shifted betwixt the two of them.
One, a commoner, and the other, what many a young boy desired to be; a Knight.
Visenya leaned back against the pillows and stroked a finger over Winter's head, her attention focused completely and utterly on naught but the two men and their bows in their hands, the crowd a din in the background that she wished would grow quieter.
Mother had told her once that her father had won a fair few tourneys as a young lad — the lists that was — and that, in the boots of the men, the noise the crowd made only served to spur them on. Even Father, gentle and soft-spoken, had a competitive spirit in him.
One he'd most definitely passed on to Rhaenys and Aegon each, and... mayhaps Visenya herself.
Winter made her heart halt and her mind stop its thinking when the little pup hopped up, his front paws coming to a stop atop the very edge of the stone-made railing.
"Winter, no," Visenya whispered.
Her fingers stretched out, and she was just about to pull the pup back into the safety of her arms when her mother spoke.
"Let him." Elia's fingers came to rest on her wrist. "He'll be fine, Vis."
Reluctantly, and with a look of worry etched upon her face, Visenya leaned back. She still kept a hand atop the pup's back, ready to pull him away should he get any closer, but she'd allow him his freedom; with her own so limited throughout her life, it was a decision that brought her a sense of happiness.
"Five gold dragons on Ser Swann winning, little brother." Rhaenys was leaning in closer to her brother, her arm linked with his and her hand patting at his shoulder.
"I'm no fool, sister," Aegon said with a snort as his eyes lazily switched from watching the archers below, to the woman beside him. "Ser Swann is a talent few can match. This commoner isn't without talent either, of course. The City Watch would do well to have him — I’ll tell Balegor to offer him a spot with my retinue if nothing else."
Elia made a noise, joining her children's conversation while Rhaegar spoke with Daenerys in a hushed tone of voice; Visenya swore she heard the Velaryons mentioned.
She turned her head away from the pair of conversations, her mind letting them fade away as she watched one of the final matches come to its end. Any who'd made it so far as those still in the arena had should've walked away with their heads held high so far as she was concerned, yet, those who'd lost only looked defeated. It was a pity, but one she'd not let distract her.
For a winner would soon be crowned.
Winter hopped down, those eyes — more intelligent than any dog or wolf-dog ought've been — looked up at her.
"A fine showing." Visenya scratched behind his ear. "Wouldn't you say?"
He gave a lick that had his tongue extend just enough to swipe the tip of her chin, and then his nose was buried against the crook of her neck, his tongue darting out and licking her.
She was about to speak over the giggles his actions caused, when she caught Rhaenys' gaze.
Visenya thought it'd been an errant gaze, one with no meaning behind it... then she saw Elia was looking at her too, and so she had to wonder what she'd missed, lost in her pup and the men below there before as she’d been.
"Yes?" She tilted her head and gave her mother and sister a questioning look; she didn't notice her Winter do the same.
Elia let out a titter, and Rhaenys, ever the imp, gave a cheeky laugh.
"What'd I miss?" Visenya's cheeks were beginning to redden.
"You were staring," Aegon answered. "Quite intently at Ser Swann."
"I was watching him, yes," Visenya blinked, her eyes flickering from her siblings' faces to Mother's. "He's uniquely talented — A Knight and a gifted bowman? What tale have you heard tell of that, I wonder?"
Aegon gave a gesture to himself. "I co—"
"Please." Rhaenys rolled her eyes, and leaned away from their brother, to 'Senya's side instead. "A superior in the melee you might be to our little sister and I, but with a bow, be it crossbow, long or short — you're the worst of us."
"Daughter," Elia chided with an arm that snaked around Visenya to pull at Rhaenys' ear. "You know your little brother could do better than Daenerys."
Aegon, who'd initially looked pleased that Mother had come to his aid, huffed. "You're the reason she teases me so much, Mother."
"And Rhaella's the reason she'd hug you 'til you used to call me or your Father over," Elia let out this wistful, happy little smile. "I would say her and I did a wondrous job in Rhaenys."
Rhaegar, only just turning away from Daenerys — the latter with as red a cheek as when she'd drink many a cup of wine — immediately made to agree. "A perfect daughter. The first of our two. If only we'd had a dozen more."
"Worry not, Husband. Our children will give us an army of grandchildren to dote upon in nary a few years' time. It'll be like when first Rhaenys and Aegon were babes." Elia gave another sigh, this time, one of faux sadness. "To think my eldest, a girl who suckled at mine own breast, will soon be a mother herself. Where have the years gone, my love?"
Rhaenys was rolling her eyes, and Visenya was looking elsewhere lest the attention turn to her, and Aegon, the poor soul, was the colour of a crab; he'd no doubt be hiding in the shell of one were it possible.
Thankfully, the crowd was loud enough, for that aforementioned final match was nearing its start, that nary another soul save for mayhaps a Kingsguard or two heard their Queen and King's antics — antics that seemed far more common than she'd have thought.
To think the King had been called melancholy and gloomy by the singers when in reality he was content and kind, and able to quip or play just as Elia or Rhaenys did.
"Ah. Eager for the winner to be named, Daughter?" Rhaegar's words cut through the giggling as Elia poked and prodded at Rhaenys, clearly aiming to make her eldest giggle since she'd failed to turn her red; he was always so intent on addressing her whensoever she was in his midst.
"I am, Father." She nodded and gave him a soft smile as Winter adjusted himself in her lap, curling up into a ball and nestling in closer. "You know this, but riding and archery were my greatest joys when I was... elsewhere."
Rhaegar's look, one that'd been so full of mirth and amusement, grew forlorn. "I heard from Aegon you and your mount earlier this day had moved seemingly as one. Lyanna was much the same. Your affinity is a trait you picked up from her, I should think."
Visenya had a feeling he didn’t simply wish to speak about her affinity for horses; it also struck her as odd, that he and Aegon each would speak of her birth mother so close together.
"I wish I'd have had the chance to meet her," Visenya said quietly, her attention on her pup lest that sadness that grew in her chest at the thought of the woman she’d never meet grow.
"She'd have loved you. That, I have no doubt. Lyanna would've been a wonderful mother to the three of you, just as Elia is — and a wonderful grandmother, when you and the others have babes of your own." Rhaegar gave her a sad smile. "Many would say it doesn’t pay to linger on such thoughts, but she was one of only two women that ever captivated me so.”
There was something to be said about how quickly one's mind could change when confronted with the truth.
It was no longer an idle thought that the man in front of her was her father, for he and she both had a sense of sadness over the loss of a woman she'd never met, and that, for him, it was a constant pain; one she’d liken to Rickon being taken from her. Mayhaps worse still — never had Visenya loved another enough to create life.
"If Lyanna were alive, she'd have been just as proud of you as we all are, my dear." Elia's fingers curled under her chin, and then the Queen's lips were pressed against her brow. "You're everything a mother could ask for, and more."
They'd only known her for nary a moon's time or thereabouts. How could they be so certain she was deserving of such praise?
"Thank you." Visenya's words were quiet, but she was smiling nonetheless. "It means a great deal, and..." Her eyes met Rhaegar's. "I... I have imagined on occasion how different life may have been if she'd lived. You would've been happy. We all could've been."
"We would've been," Rhaegar affirmed.
Elia seemed to press in closer, the sadness getting to her more than it seemed to Rhaegar or Visenya. "We still are happy. We have you, sweet girl. A piece of Lyanna that's ours."
"It's starting, Sister!" Aegon — who'd been speaking with Ser Jonothor at his side — spoke up, seemingly not noticing the serious conversation she'd been having with her parents, and the Queen and King seemed to not mind, as each gave her a little that said they'd talk more later, before the two began to speak in far more hushed a tone.
Visenya licked her lips and blinked her eyes a few times to clear the lingering water from them, before her attention went to the men below. "Wine, Brother?"
"Of course, I'll have it fetched." Aegon nodded his head, and with a wave of his hand, he was calling a servant over, giving a whisper and then a nod as the woman scurried off.
As he did so, Rhaenys made to comment. "My little sister being the first to ask for a drink? Has the sun turned black? Do the Gods weep?"
Visenya huffed. "I'll have you know, I've drunk ale and mead far stronger than the Arbor Gold or Dornish Red you have here."
"Stronger, hmm?" Rhaenys' eyebrows rose, and her smile grew.
"Uh-oh, little sister." Aegon was shaking his head. "Rhaenys will take your challenge for what it is. She's not one you'd be likely to outdrink."
Rhaenys gave a nod their brother's way. "Aegon speaks true. We’ll need drink ‘til one of us can’t walk come on eve.” Her eyes swept over Visenya then, her lips forming a teasing, arrogant grin. "I shan't say I'll be surprised when I win. You're too tiny, little sister.”
Visenya couldn't give her retort before Daenerys spoke up. "Oh? Do you mean to say us 'little' dragons can't be just as strong?"
"You're welcome to join, Auntie. Mayhaps together, you and 'Senya can take me." Rhaenys shrugged. "I'd still bet otherwise."
A 'thwap' as an arrow struck home drew Visenya's attention away, the sound a reminder that a match was still ongoing, and had been since the very moment her and her family had began talking.
Gods, was it easy to get distracted.
Ser Balon Swann was, ultimately, the man who'd won the archery contest. She learned shortly after he was crowned victor of that portion of the tourney that he'd not entered the group melee or the normal melee; only the lists were his focus beyond that which he'd already won.
A shame, if one asked her. He seemed like the kind of Knight that'd have excelled in all which he did.
Would that she could convince Mother or Father to bring him into the service of their family. An Archer-Knight would be a great boon.
Ah well, mayhaps in the future she'd find a way to have Ser Swann give her a pointer. She'd already learned that with the title of 'Princess' came no small amount of power so long as Aegon or her Mother and Father weren't present; mayhaps Rhaenys too, given her seniority.
"Come."
She felt a hand at her shoulder.
Visenya looked up, and blinked, momentarily seeing spots when the sun met her eyes. Rhaenys' face came into view not a second later, a soft smile on her lips as she beckoned her up to her feet.
With a little squeak as she stretched her sleeping limbs — she'd sat entirely too long as of late — Visenya reaffirmed her grip on her pup and rose, joining Rhaenys and Daenerys as they moved further inside the 'chambers' the Arena was home to.
Not once had the wealth of this new family of hers failed to surprise her.
"You make for such a sight, sweet sister." Rhaenys was leaning in close, a hand atop Visenya's shoulder as they walked. "I shan't ever stop fawning over the way you look. Your hair, the way you scrunch up your nose when I give you many a compliment, the flushing of your cheeks that comes next..."
Daenerys' voice interrupted whatever else Rhaenys might've said. "Oh, cease your teasing, Rhae."
Visenya snickered at the huff that comment pulled from Rhaenys. "Fine fine," She waved her hand and, for a change, sought out Aegon. "Brother? You'll join us in the wheelhouse, won't you?"
"Father?" Aegon looked to the King, who was still speaking with Daenerys; the latter was nodding and had a hand on his arm.
When he noticed Aegon, his eyes moved to 'Senya. "We all will. Time with family can never be squandered, or taken for granted. Wife?"
Elia took hold of Father's hand and gave a tug. "Lead the way, Husband. I've a yearning for the cool evening air."
Visenya wrinkled her nose. "Cool? South of the Neck knows not the meaning of the word."
Aegon gave a snort and reached out, taking her by the shoulder and turning her the right way with a gentle touch; all the same, she had to glance at him. "Was our winter mother the same, Father? Always hating the heat and wishing for the Northern chill?"
"Indeed, she was." Rhaegar was smiling at the memory. "She only ever tolerated the heat for the sake of the company she kept."
"What pleasant company that was," Elia added, a knowing exchange shared with Father; she imagined the two could reminisce for a lifetime or more.
Visenya didn't know the details of their lives together, or how her birth-mother had truly affected them, but the little pieces she heard and the way they smiled and laughed told her of a love unlike any other, one that felt incomplete — they'd called their family much the same, 'til the Spider had found her, and they, by extension, learned of her existence.
The walk to the wheelhouse was brief, and with nary a word of importance said. It was but a few moments' time of levity and relaxation for every Targaryen present.
As they neared, Visenya's eyes moved to the Kingsguard as each made to mount a horse, fine and sleek things. Rare as it was to see, all seven were present and taking part in the perimeter that'd be formed 'round the Royal Wheelhouse; the smaller of the two they possessed. Ornate and more comfortable as it was, the other was much too large for the 'narrow' streets of King's Landing.
"Visenya," Rhaegar called her up after he'd aided Elia in climbing up and into the wheelhouse, and with a smile she'd seen on his face a hundred times now, he lifted her and her pup up both once she'd grown near enough, setting them down just inside.
Elia took up one of her hands, the other staying to hold Winter close, and helped her settle into the space by her side; Rhaenys and Daenerys were the next Father helped up.
Aegon was last, and finally, Father himself; it was the latter of these two that sat on her other side.
"The day is near spent." Rhaegar's voice was deep and warm. "How fares my daughter? Tired?"
"Only a little." Visenya leaned back and, with a yawn, settled into the comfort provided. It seemed both Mother and Father alike gave off a heat like the flames that kept them warm through the nights. Their Southron heat, it had to be. "Archery was most fun to watch, and the arena... it is a sight unlike any other."
"Better than the Great Sept of Baelor?" Her Mother's tone was rife with teasing, and when Father sent her a look, she simply snickered and gave explanation as to her question's true reason for being. "Lyanna wasn't a fan of the Seven or the many Septons and Septas she met. What was it she said about the place, Rhaegar?"
"That it was 'full of cunts'." Rhaegar had this small, half-amused, half-longing, smile. "There was much she'd been unimpressed with, and old as I am, I forget which words applied to which place we'd spoken of or seen."
Visenya... hadn't expected Father of all people to speak as a Northerner might, even if he did so in quoting her birth-mother. It was almost as if she were near the Winterfell guardsmen, overhearing their bawdy jests. These Southron men were shy and soft, and most every single one of them was hairless as her brother.
She couldn't imagine Aegon, Rhaenys, or her Mother swearing like the Umbers or — most — Karstarks. The Mormonts and Cerwyns were more mild-mannered. The Manderlys were the softest.
"Oh, Gods, don't say you're old, Husband." Elia rolled her eyes. "I'm older, yet I'll have you know I've no grey hairs. Not for lack of Rhaenys or Aegon trying."
"Me?"
"Not just her?"
Rhaenys and Aegon had both spoken at the same time, and while the former was feigning offence, the latter was giving Mother a most petulant look, as if Aegon were offended at the very notion he'd give her a grey hair... or maybe it was being lumped in with the trouble-making Rhaenys.
"You two, yes." Elia didn't bother trying to hide her amusement. "Your antics, or whatever you wish to call them, have given me more than a few reasons to have grey hairs."
Daenerys sat up straighter in her seat, seemingly pleased that she'd not had so much as one mentioning of her name when it came to being a troublemaker. It seemed Visenya and her twin were as pure as the Maiden, and kind thereas to boot.
On and on the banter and lightheartedness the wheelhouse brought on went.
They spoke of the day and its events, the food, the archers, the upcoming contests yet to happen. All manner of topic was brought up, and Visenya found herself growing more and more at ease in the presence of the family that was hers, a far cry from the way she'd once felt. She imagined the tight space and the loudness in the wheelhouse that prevented the noise of the crowd outside was a boon for said enjoyment; never would she like wide-open spaces or large gatherings of those she knew not.
Visenya yawned and covered her mouth, a little squeak-like sound coming free of her that saw Winter stir where the pup laid atop her chest, the pup's head nestled beneath her chin.
Her arms were wrapped 'round the direwolf, and it was the best thing, having her furry little pillow so close.
She was meant to sup with Robb, Aegon and Rickon this eve, but ‘til that time came about, rest atop the bed was her plan.
How couldn’t it be after she’d risen so early?
That wasn’t to mention how incomparably soft the sheets and the furs — she’d added — atop the bed were, or the way her body sank into the feather mattress. It was unlike anything she could compare to, and she knew not how she managed before.
"Mm." She rolled her head and gave a stretch, a yawn escaping her soon after, before her eyes closed and she let out a little breath, the kind that came with relaxing.
"Oh, sweet sister, do you make for a sight."
Her eyes fluttered open, and her gaze met Rhaenys', who was seated before her and was giving her a fond look.
"Hello, Sister." Visenya murmured.
"Good evening." Rhaenys reached out and ran a hand through Visenya's hair, her lips curling up. "I shan't stay long, but I wanted to ask… you and Aegon go to sup with Lord Robb — I know you desire a meal with naught but your cousin, ‘til Aegon included himself, and so the last desire you might have would be more company, but I wondered if you'd mind if I joined the four of you? If you do, I'll not take offense.”
That wasn’t like the Rhaenys she knew. Visenya's eyebrows knitted together. "As you and Aegon said, I shan’t meet with him alone. If you wish to sup with us, do so — I only ask that you and Aegon not try and make an enemy where one needn’t exist. I’m kind to Tyene and the others, am I not? I would have it the same for Robb. He's dear to me, and though I needn’t say it, not as a suitor, but as family.”
Rhaenys’ nose twitched, and a flash of her eyes showed the displeasure she felt; but it was gone as quickly as it’d come, and saw Visenya wondering what her big sister had taken offense at. "I'll not antagonise him further. Not after the gift he brought. Mayhaps, if you're lucky, I'll have a new friend by the end of the eve." She had a smile that fled quick as it came. “I’ll try.”
Visenya couldn't stop the snort that left her. "Don't lie, Sister."
"Oh?" Rhaenys arched a brow at her. "Nary a few sennight in the south where you belong and already, you're able to tell a lie from a truth?" She seemed more amused than offended.
"Not all. Just yours."
"Mm." Rhaenys rose and bent over her, her arms finding their way on either side of her as her hair formed a curtain cover to the both of them "My little sister grows bold. What will I do with her, hmm?"
Visenya's nose scrunched up. "Sister, you're too close."
Rhaenys sighed. "You say that as if we haven't slept together." She pulled back to lock eyes with her. "What's given you reason to see this new distance betwixt, you, Aegon and I? And forget not that I have that same power to detect truth from lie."
"I only wish not to interfere with the marriage you and Aegon will have in the very near future. As I said, it wouldn't do if others thought you meant to allow Aegon to pursue me." Visenya, be it in a stroke of boldness, or a genuine desire to speak the thought that'd plagued her for very long, did just that. "I should think you and he both need not so much as one whispered word said about you as the future King and Queen."
Rhaenys blinked. "You make mention of this again."
Visenya stared at her big sister intently, the soothing presence of Winter atop her chest aiding her in pressing the matter. "I do."
Rhaenys gave a hum, and then her face came closer, her eyes searching Visenya's. "You've a sharp mind, 'Senya. Tell me what you believe to be true — I think neither you nor I favour mincing words."
"I..." She bit her lip. "I would have it known if our names are coincidence, a jest, or if Father wishes to see us as... them."
Rhaenys was silent for a moment, the look on her face contemplative. "Father wishes for a great many things. I think you and he need speak at length come soon enough." There seemed a tension in her big sister, and then she shook her head, Rhaenys' eyes darting to her balcony. "The hour grows late. Your answer to my joining you?"
Visenya's fingers toyed with a bit of Winter's fur, and, slowly, she nodded. "You didn't tell me if my suspicion is true."
"I didn't."
"Will you?"
"Can I spend the night with you?"
"You can." Visenya murmured, unable to resist the pleading undertone in Rhaenys' voice, nor the look that came with it. "If you wish it — and if you don’t accost me. If you do, you’ll leave. Winter could make you, if I don’t."
Rhaenys smiled softly, and her fingers moved towards Visenya’s hair before stopping abruptly. “Just rest. I swear it — I’ll be better.”
"Ah, my sisters," Aegon's voice greeted them as soon as Visenya and Rhaenys left the former's chambers, a renewed closeness between the two after the earlier exchange; Visenya wasn't sure if it'd remain, but, for now, it was pleasant. "Does Lord Robb know to expect three?"
Visenya shook her head.
"No matter, he won't mind." Aegon gave a little shrug. "He and I spoke again sans your company, little sister. Your cousin had much to say in your favour."
Visenya's heart soared at hearing this; it eased her heart to think he'd not changed his opinion of her on account of the many changes the Gods had thrown their way.
“We ought not keep him waiting long, then. Would you not agree, Aegon?" Rhaenys gave her twin a look. "Or have your thoughts grown dull from the many times they've gone round in circles?"
Aegon's cheeks went red, and his eyes narrowed at her. "You think yourself witty, don't you?"
"Wittier than you," Rhaenys retorted, her tone teasing and her eyes filled with mirth.
Aegon sniffed at her, but all the same he came over to take up an arm of hers, and an arm of Rhaenys’.
“Who’s duller, would you say, little sister? A dullard, or the woman meant to marry the dullard?”
"Why must I choose?" Visenya asked, her gaze flickering between her big brother and her big sister.
"You’re our final third. Naturally, you’ll be the one to settle any squabble we might have.” Aegon’s answer was more serious, and genuine.
Rhaenys’, however, wasn’t remotely like their brother’s had been.
“When he’s acting a fool, he’ll need his big sister and his little sister to set him right, will he not, Senya? Or are we to suffer a foolish King? That wouldn't do. We’d only have a few options left to us if he grew so bad; send him off to Essos, or to the Wall."
"Neither sounds all that appealing.” Aegon wrinkled his nose.
Visenya couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped her at hearing her brother and sister’ antics. It seemed back to that sweet spot in their relationship for this eve at the very least — when each would be playful, affectionate and sans any obvious ulterior motives.
That wasn’t to say she’d forgotten those earlier words with Rhaenys, or their many queer actions and words.
“Dacey?” Visenya called back over her shoulder, to her sworn shield; the task about to be given could only be entrusted to her if Daenerys wasn’t near and Ser Loras had to remain near to her. “Bring Winter? He was laying abed and I didn’t wish to wake him.”
Dacey, who was a few paces behind her, gave a nod and made her way back to Visenya's chambers.
"Aegon," Rhaenys spoke his name, and drew Visenya's attention away from the retreating Dacey. "Are you certain you and Robb got along as well as you say?"
"We did. What has you concerned?" Aegon's reply was curious, and a glance was given to him.
"Merely an odd thought."
Aegon snorted. “I’d say you’re the one to fear for in our dealings with him.”
“Was it not you tha—“
Rhaenys’ words were cut off when Aegon pointed ahead. “Look how the sun sets, little sister. Come, let us take a detour on the way to see your cousin.”
Visenya gave him a queer look.
As for Rhaenys, she bore a look of the utmost victorious type. Evidently, whatever she'd been about to say had seen the conversation won based on the distraction Aegon had used.
Visenya didn't mind. The two were her greatest sources of amusement... sans Winter and Rickon.
"Prince Aegon and Princesses Rhaenys and Visenya."
At the sound of the servant announcing their presence, Robb turned from the table he'd been setting up and rose to his feet, a small smile playing on his lips. One that was all the more tentative than it'd been earlier, and likely on account of all three of them being here; he'd desired one, accounted for two, and now played 'host' to three.
"Prince Aegon, Princesses," Robb bowed, his smile fake; he always had this tell, a little twitch to the corner of his mouth. It'd always come about whenever he lied or told a tall tale, and had the same effect in this case; he didn't desire the company of two of the three arriving Royals.
"Lord Robb." Aegon had a warmer tone of voice than when first they'd seen one another again. Mayhaps the earlier talk the two had shared, sans her, was the reason why, just as Aegon had said. "I hope you don't mind Rhaenys joining us. She's eager to get to know the man we've heard so much about from our little sister."
"No, of course not." Robb's gaze flickered to Visenya. "Princess, how are you?"
"I am well."
Robb nodded. "Would you and your siblings like to take a seat? The food should be served any moment now."
"Thank you." Visenya took her seat, and, soon, she felt her sister's hand upon hers as Rhaenys slid into the space on her right.
Aegon, meanwhile, sat across from her.
"Rickon will be along shortly." Visenya spoke again, addressing Robb. "Our baby brother desired not to wash lest his pup could do so with him."
Robb snorted. "That sounds like Rickon."
"How was Arya with her Nymeria?" Visenya wondered if the girl was even a little different.
"She was... she was Arya. Nothing's changed." Robb said, and, with a look of surprise, added. "Sansa's is somehow as much a lady as she is too. Mother’s driven mad by them."
That made her snicker. Of course Sansa would see a direwolf tamed, and Lady Catelyn would be fussing over the matter; some things would never be likely to change.
Robb's only pup made its appearance at the mention of Sansa's, the little grey thing bounding across the room with a high-pitched yelp, and, soon, it was at her cousin's feet, the little wolf's tail wagging and his head tilted upward to look at Robb, before it turned towards her. She oft wondered if various creatures could sense bloodlines when they looked at her and her siblings.
"Greywind," Robb's voice sounded the softest it'd been since his arrival in the city.
"A beautiful wolf, Lord Robb." Rhaenys praised, and the look on her face seemed genuine — it made Visenya wonder if she truly were one such person that favoured cats after how much her eyes had lingered on Winter or the others.
"A fine hunting beast come soon enough too, I should think." Aegon gave Greywind's flank a pat in the way all menfolk seemed to do; the one that made that loud, thudding noise.
Visenya wondered if it were as instinctual a thing as a pup's desire to bite or growl at something new. Men, be they Northern or Southern, nearly always seemed to have some set of similar traits — the quickness to violence, the prideful nature, the need for battle.
What was it Old Nan had said once before, when she spoke of them?
‘Men yearn for the grave’ — but a mother, wife or a daughter may only halt that yearning for a time.
She didn't believe all men were such as that.
She'd have to disagree with Old Nan on this... but Visenya had never truly been witness to war. Not truly. She’d been born at the very end of the War for Justice. Mayhaps time would prove her own opine wrong.
“… you say, little sister?” Rhaenys had a mirthfulness in her eyes when she looked to Visenya.
Visenya's eyes narrowed at her. What'd she missed? With any other, the chance she'd simply have agreed would've been high given how small of circle was. But with Rhaenys, her dear, older sister, there was a good chance caution was worthwhile. "Apologies, Sister," Visenya gave a demure little nod, her fingers toying with a bit of the tablecloth as her eyes flicked betwixt Greywind, Robb and the two Royals; siblings, of hers. "My mind wandered, it would seem. What were we discussing?"
Rhaenys hummed, a finger to her chin. "Your fascination with archery, I should think."
Visenya's gaze flickered to Aegon.
"Lord Robb was telling us of the time you spent together when you'd first taken up the bow. He says it's a sight to see you shoot." Aegon grinned at her. "I'm sorry I've not been able to. But a matter easily rectified, that. Just as your desire to ride into the woods and fields is."
Visenya felt a warmth come to her cheeks. She was not fond of being the centre of attention. "When was it I that became the topic of conversation? We should speak of the Direwolves, or mayhaps the Godswood. We could take a walk with the pups, Rickon included post-meal."
Aegon and Rhaenys shared a look, and then, Rhaenys spoke. "We will do all of that and more, little sister. Whatsoever you so desire."
Robb's brow arched for a second's time, but he raised his ale — he'd refused Dornish wine after but a glass out of courtesy — to his lips and took a sip, hiding the surprise Visenya saw.
Aegon made to speak, but then a knock sounded at the door, and in came Dacey with a pup in each arm; one literal, and one a Stark.
Winter and Rickon had made their appearance.
As Visenya had desired, once the meal had been finished a trip to the Godswood was to be taken.
It was a small one, or, as small a one as could be permitted; Aegon, Rhaenys, Robb, Rickon and her, plus three Kingsguard and 'Senya's Sworn Shield.
The four Stark guards and the three score Targaryen Household Guard patrolled the perimeter or stayed by the main entrance to the garden-like setting, so they didn’t count, now did they?
"How many of our ancestors do you think walked this Godswood with a Direwolf?" Rhaenys' question was a mock one, for had it happened in the past, like all things that related to the Targaryens, it'd have been noted down.
Aegon, all the same, gave answer to it with a jest of his own as Winter, Greywind and Rickon's pup raced on past them, a game of tag between the three that involved a great deal of leaping and barking. "As many as our ancestors laid with."
Rhaenys snorted, but Robb's presence seemed to make her act more the part of the perfect Princess; he was unknown to them, even if to Visenya, he was as much her brother as Aegon.
"What think you of King's Landing, Lord Robb?" Rhaenys turned the attention from Aegon's crass comment — one that'd earned a none-too-well hidden snicker from her cousin — to Robb. "Do the songs do it justice? Or have you seen a side not mentioned? I do hope your chambers and those of the men that came with you are to your liking. Should there be aught else needed, we can arrange it."
Robb gave a nod of appreciation. "We're treated well. You and Prince Aegon have my thanks, Princess."
"Of course. You're family to our Visenya, and so, as good as kin to us." Rhaenys replied.
Visenya wasn't sure how her sister meant the words, for they didn't sound wholly untrue, nor wholly genuine; the tension she desired not to be present had lessened, that was for certain, but twas still present.
"That's very kind of you, Princess. Truly." Robb answered, a small smile on his face.
"You'll need come to Summerhall once it's ready as well, and Dorne beyond that, My Lord." Aegon added, his words having a note of command to them rather than only invitation. "Our cousin Arianne, I know, would love to meet you."
Rhaenys and Aegon shared a glance at the mention of Arianne, but her cousin was of a different mind when it came to what he'd taken note of.
"Summerhall? Has it been reconstructed?" Robb's surprise was genuine, and while reading of history had never been a subject he'd cared much for, the story of the place was as known to him as Harrenhal.
"It has," Rhaenys answered with a small, pleased smile. "Nearly. My brother and I, and our Visenya, will spend much of the coming years there."
"As will our cousin, Arianne," Aegon added. "You'll be sent an invitation to join us, no doubt."
Visenya was listening to the exchange with a furrowed brow; they were going beyond polite niceties for her sake. From making mention of Summerhall as they'd done, to talks of Arianne. It was... queer.
Winter raced by them, followed by Greywind and Rickon's shaggy-coated pup.
Rickon, roused from his nap in Dacey's arms, began to look around; when his eyes found 'Senya, he held out his arms and wiggled his fingers, desiring to be taken.
Naturally, Visenya had no choice but to take her baby brother, and so she broke away from Aegon and Rhaenys' hold, and, as they were walking, made her way towards the other side of her sworn shield.
"Hello, sweetling." Visenya greeted him with a kiss to the forehead as her arms held him close, her nose burying itself in his soft hair. That distinctly Rickon scent greeted her, and his giggles filled the air when she tickled his sides.
"Sister."
Visenya looked up at hearing Rhaenys' voice, and saw the older Princess standing there, watching her. "Yes?"
"You're always so sweet with him." Rhaenys had a happiness about her, and took a few steps closer. "Do you want many babes of your own, Visenya? I've not ever heard you say as much."
Aegon, who'd begun to converse — quietly — with her cousin seemed to be minding the two a sliver of his attention. Dacey was too, but blatantly.
"I..." Visenya trailed off, uncertain how best to answer. "Winter!" The Gods were kind, and provided a distraction by way of Winter bounding betwixt her legs. He didn't trip her, expertly navigating around her with his usual grace and speed, and went instead to stand by her side, looking up at Rickon and her with an expectant stare after her call.
Rickon aided her further by pointing down and letting out a 'Please', his intention clear.
He wished to pet Winter.
And, thus, she knelt and let him, holding him close so that his little hands could delve into the thick, silvery-white fur of the Direwolf.
"He's so well-behaved." Rhaenys remarked.
Robb spoke up then. "Both are. You've tamed ou— my little brother, Princess. Mother would be vexed to see him listening to you so well."
Visenya pulled at her dress, the grass staining it just as much as the dirty paws of Winter did when he hopped up to get closer to her and Rickon both; she minded not. Tens and thousands of dresses existed in the south, so what if one got ruined by a bit of dirt or claws? "Rickon is a good boy." Visenya kissed the top of his head. "He needed but a soft hand."
Robb's lips quirked into a little smirk, and she saw his eyes flick to Aegon and Rhaenys' direction. "It gladdens me to see he's in good hands." He looked up then, to the sky. After all that'd been done this day, the sun above was finally getting low enough in the sky that the orange rays were peeking out, and the light blue sky was being painted in various shades of the same colour. "You'll have to forgive me, Prince Aegon, Princesses. I think I'll need head back soon."
"Do you mean to rise early for the team melee, My Lord?" Aegon wondered, the first thing he'd said since Rhaenys had come over at the mention of children; mention she'd avoided.
"I do, My Prince." Robb bowed his head. "I thank you for this pleasant walk, and the company."
Aegon gave a wave of his hand, signalling that Robb was fine to leave, and fixed him with a... pleasant look. "Of course, Lord Robb. You'll need join us for a meal when next we meet — and of course, you have my thanks once more for the gift you gave to our Visenya. A Direwolf." He said it as if he couldn't believe it even as three of the very beasts raced around them, the Godswood a good space for their sizes.
At the present.
In time, from what was known of Direwolves, the space would be much too small for them.
Robb bowed his head, and turned towards Visenya and Rhaenys. "Until next time, Princesses. Little brother." He nodded again. "Prince Aegon."
Visenya watched him go, and felt Rhaenys' hands brush across her hips as she pressed into her lightly from behind, her figure, a good deal bigger than 'Senya's, encompassing her own which itself still clutched Rickon close to chest after she'd risen back to her feet for Robb's parting words. "You radiate heat, little sister. I can see why the pups, Stark and furry alike seek you out."
Her words were whispered, the breath that they carried on hitting Visenya's neck.
It made her shiver.
Aegon closed the distance after those words, and pulled the pair of them into his embrace, a grin on his face.
Her siblings seemed content and, after this meeting with her cousin, more sure of her loyalty to them.
She supposed so long as they were pleased and getting along with Robb, it was of little concern to her.
And besides, Rickon was in her grasp, Winter was laying down near to them, and, when her eyes flicked up, she took in a beautiful Godswood with the sun setting thereon. It was worthy of a tapestry or the finest of paintings.
The door to Rhaenys’ Chambers was locked after it was closed, and Visenya found herself seated in a plush chair by the fireplace.
It was a familiar seat she thought copied for her own space, but she’d not complain. It was one she'd grown used to, and fond of; that seemed a running theme in the south. ‘Twas far too much that seemed better… save for the heat or peoples.
"Are you still with us little sister, or has sleep claimed you as surely as it did your pups?”
Rhaenys had taken up the spot next to her, and her question brought a hum to Visenya's lips.
"Rickon’s grown heavier, or I, weaker — I… we also did much this day. My feet are sore.” Visenya gave a little wiggle of her toes, her gaze shifting to the Direwolves.
The two pups were snoring lightly by the bed, Winter and Rickon’s both the latter she had decided would do well to stay and be trained by her. She knew how important it was for a pup — dogs her knowledge came from, but they were close, wolves, dogs and Direwolves, she thought — to be trained early.
“Here, little sister,” Rhaenys was suddenly by her, her hands moving to Visenya's feet and, without asking, removing her shoes.
When they fell to the floor, the sound woke Winter from his slumber, his head tilting, and the sound of his tail smacking the rug and his whine making her give a gentle order to go back to sleep, and that all was fine; he listened better than many a hound she’d played with at Winterfell.
“You need no—“
Rhaenys didn't listen. Her hands were strong, and worked wonders in a manner that suggested this wasn’t the first time she'd done something like it.
The moan that left Visenya's lips was an accident that only came as a result of her big sister's skill and quickness. Or, it should have been, but the twitch of Rhaenys' lips at the corners gave away the fact that she might have been seeking such a noise. Sat before her atop a plush stool as she was, and with a mischievous look in her eyes, she addressed Visenya. "Feeling better, little sister?"
"Yes," her voice was a tired whisper, and her cheeks grew heated; she had to clear her throat and say it again for her own peace of mind. “Yes. Thank you.”
"You’re most welcome." Rhaenys' hands moved higher, and her fingers danced over her calves and the exposed skin of her thighs, the dress pushed upwards.
Aegon's hands were not idle. His fingers had trailed a line over her skin and were now tugging at the laces of her dress, undoing the knots, the garment slowly becoming more and more loose. With wine and pleasant feelings coursing through her to top off the wondrous day she'd had thus far, Visenya very nearly lost the ability to do much else beyond enjoy the feeling of their touches.
But when she felt her brother's touch atop her pale, bare shoulders, she was roused into action.
"The hour's late," Visenya pulled her feet from Rhaenys' grasp and her upper half forward and out of Aegon's reach. "And I've grown weary from your attention... you have my thanks, Rhaenys, Aegon, but now I sho—"
Rhaenys' finger pressed against her lips, halting the words that'd been forming. "You've yet to wash. You'll not go to bed with the day's sweat still clinging to you, will you?"
"I washed when I rose." Visenya's voice was muffled by the finger against her lips, but it was still understandable.
"You're a Princess. Thrice a day isn't slothful if you desire it." Rhaenys sent Aegon a look then. "Visenya already permitted my staying with her — you'll need leave now. She’s tired." Even now, after sennights, there seemed a winning — and teasing — lilt to her big sister's voice when she spoke; but there was a genuine… care? Affection? Something of that ilk.
Aegon huffed. "I suppose I've had 'Senya for most the day and morn." He leaned forth, and planted a kiss on Visenya's forehead. "Goodnight, little sister." He stood up and made to leave, but then he stopped. "Break our fasts together on the morrow? The three of us?"
"Won't Dany or Mother and Father have issue with that?"
"Father wants to break his fast with Monford, Daenerys and Mother." Aegon grinned. "I may have let slip that Daenerys wanted more time with her betrothed, and with Father's love for her, he set upon Monford, and as we all know, none can refuse a request that comes from a Targaryen."
"Our brother the schemer." Rhaenys stood up, and with a surprising show of strength, took Visenya up into her arms, lifting her up, and onto her shoulder.
"What are you doing?!" Visenya yelped, her body going tense.
"I'll leave you to it, Sisters. You've my love, Visenya, Rhaenys." Aegon gave a little bow, and left, the door closing behind him.
Rhaenys made her way to her bathing chambers.
"Rhaenys!" Visenya called out.
"Calm yourself. I'll set you down atop the nearby chair." Rhaenys gave her a pat on the backside that caused a gasp and a blush.
She wasn't a babe, and she certainly wasn't... the other type of person that allowed themselves to be subject to such treatment. "Rhaenys, you'll not carry me about. I can walk myself, thank you."
"You said your feet are sore. I'll not make you walk." Rhaenys' voice was a sing-song one, and Visenya felt the grip on her tighten when she wiggled about,
A sigh of defeat left her. She could press the matter, but in truth, there were worse fates than having Rhaenys carry her, and the chance for her feet to have naught to do was appealing; mayhaps in a way, Rhaenys was her maid-servant in this instance… the thought made her sorely tempted to call Elia or Daenerys to bathe her... Rhaenys doing so would feel odd, and yet not, at the same time. She was uncertain of how to feel.
"There's a good girl." Rhaenys gave her an affectionate pat on the thigh as she was lowered. "I can lay in the next chamber over in wait, if you'd prefer."
"You'll not act... immorally, with me, will you? If we were to bathe?" Visenya's question was quiet, her eyes avoiding meeting Rhaenys' own; she remembered her desires to bathe, sleep, eat, walk, and all else together. That extended to explorations throughout 'their' lands as well, Dorne was oft a matter of discussion.
"I'll do naught but wash you." Rhaenys' voice held an edge of teasing to it, but there was a serious note that made Visenya believe her. "If it eases you, I'll not even see anything. You could tie a cloth around my eyes and have me go by touch alone."
Visenya's nose wrinkled. That made it queerer, such a suggestion. Bathing with Daenerys hadn't been odd — 'twas her twin, mayhaps her closest friend here in the City — but Rhaenys... their bond was strange. She wasn't sure how it'd work with Rhaenys. Not when her and Aegon each seemed to have this fascination, this longing. It was unhealthy and unnatural to all save for Targaryens, and such was what they claimed her to be.
It made her wonder if the whole reclamation was all for them to have her; Mother, Father, her supposed Grandmother upon Dragonstone, mayhaps not one of th—
"What's your favourite scented oil, little sister? You've not had a bath with me, and it's the least I can do to have the right smell." Rhaenys waited not for her answer, and instead made her way over to a small chest of drawers, her hands picking through them with an expertise born of familiarity. She made a noise in her throat and slid three such vials up the sleeve of her dress, then she promptly moved to pick out Visenya's nightwear from the wardrobe that rested in the corner.
"You needn't bother yourself. I'm not a babe." Visenya felt odd, receiving the treatment she gave to Rickon. Why did Rhaenys have a sudden desire to dote upon her so?
"You are. In a way." Rhaenys' smile was bright as she approached and laid her garments down upon the table.
"In what way?"
"You're my baby sister. It has 'babe' in it, more or less, wouldn't you agree?" Rhaenys teased, and with a little smirk, turned back towards the wardrobe.
Visenya let out a huff. Rhaenys was playing word games. She desired not to answer that, and so she did not. Instead, her eyes moved to her dress, the laces coming undone at the back, and her mind was focused on taking the thing off before her sister could. No teasing touches or funny words would be had.
And certainly no blush would be forced forth by her, either.
Rhaenys draped a pair of shere, black gowns atop the table, and with a little hum, turned her attention to the tub, and the various vials of oils and soaps that rested nearby. As she grew near to it, a knock sounded at the door.
Ser Loras' voice came. "Hot water, Princess."
With the chamber door locked and barred, she didn't have to worry about someone walking in on her in her smallclothes. Yet, Rhaenys still reacted as if it was a possibility, and threw a cloak around Visenya's shoulders. "You undid your dress early, little sister. 'Tis the menfolk that bring forth hot water to fill the basins, and with yours large as it is, nearly a half-score men will have to fill it. Go to one of the adjoining rooms and wait for me behind the dressing curtain." She gave Visenya's rear a gentle slap. "Off you go."
Visenya slapped at her big sister’s hand. “I’ll bite you if you do that again.”
Rhaenys gave a quick apology, but scurried off to answer the door as Visenya continued moving away. When the water was delivered, the tub filled, and the servants gone, Rhaenys finally called for her to come back out.
Her hands were empty when Visenya stepped forth, her gaze going to the vials that seemed drained of their liquids. "What scent have you chosen?"
Rhaenys took her hand and pushed the cloak from her shoulders, the fabric fluttering to the floor, and the cold hitting her skin making her shiver. "Sandalwood, with hints of honey and flower petals of many a kind. I've not bathed with it, but Daenerys assured me it works wonders, and her skin's as soft as the maiden, or so can be claimed."
"Honey's sticky."
"You'll not complain about that when you smell good." Rhaenys' grin was wide, her smile infectious. "Now, hurry and disrobe — the water's growing cold, and 'twill only get colder."
Visenya, feeling impetuous and basking — for whatever reason — in the attention Rhaenys provided, simply raised her hands up. She hoped her meaning was clear.
A snort came forth from her big sister, her lips curling upwards. "Very well, you spoiled Princess." She was teasing, and there was a lightness to her tone; a happiness too. It seemed like Rhaenys was more at ease, seeing that that tension and coldness had thawed to some degree.
With quick and deft fingers, her smallclothes were removed, the cloth pooling around her ankles, and leaving her bare.
Quickly, Visenya lowered herself into the water. It'd looked near-boiling, the steam coming from it a dead giveaway, and yet the temperature was perfect, neither too warm, nor too cool. It was just right in a way no bath had been before.
Rhaenys joined her not long after. She'd thrown to the side her own underclothes, and the sheer shift she'd been wearing was now gone. Her body was bare, her skin the tan likeness of Elia's, and her figure, far fuller than Visenya's own; she looked elsewhere, and turned her back to her big sister.
"You don't have to turn away, little sister." Rhaenys' voice carried easily in the chamber, and her hands came up to her shoulders, pulling her against her chest.
The feeling of her breasts was noticeable, and Visenya felt heat rise to her face, and a strange tingling sensation began to fill her.
This was most definitely different than the bath with Daenerys had been.
"You need not feel ashamed, or nervous, 'Senya. This is your bath, and I'm merely washing you." Rhaenys' words did naught to ease her, and when her hands trailed over her stomach, Visenya's eyes closed, and her teeth bit down on her lip.
"R-Rhaenys, please. Do not—"
"I've no intent on anything immoral. I'm merely helping my little sister. There's naught wrong with that, is there?”
The wine. It had to be the wine and days exhaustion that’d bothered Visenya and made such queer feelings well up inside of her. Rhaenys annoyed her so oft, and yet, she and Aegon… they drew forth this… desire.
Visenya deserved this, didn’t she? She deserved to be spoiled and pleased.
Rhaenys' hands were slow, and the touch was gentle and pleasant. With each swipe and caress of her hands, she grew more and more used to the sensations that ran through her, and the awkwardness was replaced by a feeling of calm.
"There you are. Feeling better, little sister?"
"Yes." Her reply was quiet, her body slumping backward slightly.
"Good." Rhaenys leaned back against the lip of the tub, and her arms came around Visenya's waist, holding her tightly as each simply settled in the steaming hot water.
Visenya was the first to speak. "Are you always so..." She didn't know the word.
"So?"
"Fond."
"Of you?"
"Aye."
Rhaenys chuckled. "I've had the honour of meeting the sweetest and prettiest sister in all of the Seven Kingdoms after years of having her missing from my life. Of course I'm fond of you. How could I not be?"
Visenya wasn't sure if her face was red due to the heat, her earlier thoughts, drink or her sister’s words.
So she chose to further sink back against Rhaenys’ front.
A few moments passed.
"I think it's time for the scrub and soap, little sister. You'll not want to sit in the cooling water forever." Rhaenys' tone was almost motherly.
Visenya made no attempt to move, too content as she was, and simply let out a sound of agreement, her body still against her big sister's now that the feelings of uncertainty and strangeness were fleeting as the day’s light.
A sigh left her, and her head tilted back. The scent was a familiar one, and her body reacted accordingly; her muscles loosened, and a warmth seemed to fill her. She let out a content sound, and her eyes opened.
The sight of Rhaenys' breasts came to view, and said sight had a strange feeling rushing through her, her body tensing again.
"Oh, don't fret, 'Senya." Rhaenys' hand rose to brush hair from her face, the action leaving a trail of droplets. Then came a smile to her lips. "There's naught to worry about. We're sisters."
Visenya didn't say anything, and instead looked away, to where their after-bath apparel had been placed.
When Rhaenys’ hands found their way into her hair, rising from whence they’d rested, she’d found the scrubbing brush was set aside. In place was a softer thing which Rhaenys squeezed and the liquid therein, released.
Rhaenys hummed. "What's that little face for?" She brushed her wet hair from her forehead. "Are you tired?"
"No." Her voice was quiet, and she turned her head partially, her cheek settling against Rhaenys' collarbone.
"No?" A laugh. "Well, perhaps the fine wine and finer food are finally catching up to you." Rhaenys' tone was one of understanding, and her fingers were quick as she continued with the massage-like action of her fingertips.
The smell of sandalwood and honey grew stronger as her big sister's actions grew more vigorous, and Visenya found herself slipping further and further away.
"Close your eyes, 'Senya. Rest against me and sleep. You've had a long day. You deserve a moment's peace, no?" Rhaenys’ voice was quiet, soothing, and her fingers brushed the hair from her face, and with a gentle tug, her head was brought to rest atop her breast.
She could hear her heart beating.
It was... relaxing, and not nearly as daunting as first it’d been.
"Don’t… accost me. I want rest… and thank you." Her eyes closed, her mind beginning to drift off.
"You're welcome, little sister."
The feeling of Rhaenys' body against hers was comforting, and she found herself drifting off.
"Sleep well, Visenya. Your big sister will protect you."
Her arms came around her, and a kiss was placed atop her brow.
She fell asleep not long after.
The following morning, she awoke to a warm feeling, her mind still heavy with the sleep of the night.
Slowly, she became aware of where she was, her face turning and resting against something soft.
"There's my pretty, little sister." Rhaenys' voice broke her stupor, and Visenya blinked, looking up, and towards her big sister's face.
"You've slept the entire night, Visenya."
"Did you put me in my bed?" Her words were quiet, her tone sleepy and relaxed.
"I did." One of Rhaenys’ hands came up and brushed her hair from her face, her head tilting. "Your cheeks are warm. I think you're coming down with something."
"Nonsense." She was warm, yes, but 'twas likely a side-effect from being so close to her sister. “You’re the one as hot as the water which we bathed in — is the hearth going? What for?”
“I like the heat. And I couldn’t dry you very well. Your slumber was too deep and I knew you’d desire not my prodding you to get the water off." Rhaenys' voice was matter-of-fact, and the hand atop her brow moved, trailing over her cheek, and down her jaw. "And, the sheets are nice and warm, I've no doubt, so 'tis a win-win, yes?"
"I suppose..." Visenya yawned, a faint squeak sounding; it took her a few seconds' time to realise it'd not come from her, for a change. Instead, it came from the little pup that was pawing at the edge of the bed.
Winter waited for her acknowledgement, which came in the way of a raised hand and a pat on the mattress. The little pup jumped up and made his way over, nuzzling his nose against her.
"Hello, Winter. You've awoken, I see." Visenya smiled, the sight of the direwolf making her forget her previous weariness.
"He's adorable." Rhaenys' comment drew a smile and a look her way.
"Yes. He is. Aren't you?" She reached up, and her hand scratched at the pup's ear.
He licked her in response.
"That's disgusting." Rhaenys teased, her nose wrinkling. "I know he's yours, little sister, and that your love is important and all, but his breath smells worse than a stable — ‘tis the reason cats are superior. They have much better hygiene, and they have not the desire to lick you. Much.”
"You don't like him?" Visenya pouted, her head resting against her sister's chest once more as she leaned back, and allowed the lingering sense of tiredness
"No. I adore him. His breath, however, is horrid."
Visenya huffed.
"I was teasing. I'll get used to it, I'm sure." Rhaenys laughed and kissed her on the forehead, then her cheeks, and finally, her nose. "You need not worry, little sister."
"If you're sure..."
"I am." Rhaenys' grin was wide.
The feeling of Rhaenys' hand upon her head and the softness of the mattress and pillows was enough to lull her back to sleep for a time.
One that was long enough for her to note the change in light when she’d risen again, and with Rhaenys’ arms around her centre while Winter had curled himself atop her feet, her dreams had been the pleasant kind, filled with images and scenes that had made her heart flutter.
Visenya made to quietly — and slowly — move away from Rhaenys.
As if she'd sensed the movement, her arms tightened around her.
"Go back to sleep, Vis. There’s no event of real importance to watch this day. Only the first of many rounds for the team melee.” Rhaenys sounded tired, and her words were whispered.
"We've slept for so long..." Visenya didn't have to look behind her to know that Rhaenys was half-awake, her mind still clinging to the last remnants of her slumber.
"No, we haven't."
"But 'tis near the start of my lessons."
"And?" Rhaenys gave a gentle pull, and she was pulled against her front. "Vaella can wait. In truth, Father should’ve simply had Aegon or I tutor you. I see not the reason for the Velaryons."
Visenya frowned. "My lessons are important."
"Of course they are, but why another when your time is already so precious?”
Visenya poked at Rhaenys’ arm with one of those painted, long nails of hers; Daenerys’ painting of them still brought forth a smile.
"Fine. If 'tis the case, I’ll aid you in dressing for the day, and escort you to your lessons… you’re having them in the library again, correct? Or has the location changed?"
"Library." Visenya agreed, her voice a little muffled by her pillow.
"Then, let's get the morning's task done and over with, so that we might enjoy the day."
"You don't have to, Rhaenys." Visenya had, perhaps and most begrudgingly, enjoyed Rhaenys’ doting the evening past, and she'd been more than welcoming, but she didn't want to seem weak or helpless — dependent, even.
“You have other things to attend to. I'll be fine."
Rhaenys snorted. "I know you're strong and can do such a simple task, little sister, but I'm here, and 'tis my desire to help. Allow me this, please? For the years I've missed?"
Visenya huffed. "You'll never cease to use that to get what you desire, will you?"
"Not in ten and a hundred moons." Rhaenys laughed and pushed herself up onto her elbows. Her eyes were half-lidded and tired, and her hair was a mess, her locks splayed everywhere. Still, her older sister was beautiful. Any could see that even if she lacked the typical Targaryen features.
"Then, if it's the case, and 'tis your desire to do so... I'll allow it."
"Allow it?" Rhaenys' eyes flashed, and with little other warning, she pounced.
Visenya squeaked, and was thrown onto her back, Rhaenys straddling her waist, her hands at her sides.
Winter joined in the play wrestling without delay, happily licking at Visenya's face as Rhaenys held her down.
It was an unexpectedly pleasant morning, and she'd enjoyed every second of it.
Visenya slid into the seat opposite of Vaella Velaryon, a girl she still thought looked oddly similar to her, and bid her a soft 'good morrow' as she got comfortable. Ser Loras and Dacey each were standing a few feet back, watching in silent vigil... save for the occasional noise that their shifting around would make. That, or the guards as they too did much the same at the doorways leading in — why her father insisted so many stay about her, even here, remained ever so strange to her.
"Good morrow, Princess Visenya." Vaella greeted with a bow of her head and a smile.
That earned a tut from the Princess. "Cousin. I should've said it first, but still, to you, Cousin." Visenya had far too many as it was that'd use her title, be it in awe, desire, or fear.
"Forgive me, Cousin." Vaella bowed her head again. "I've forgotten my manners. For that, I'm most sorry."
Visenya blinked; was this how she'd been when first she'd been around Aegon and Rhaenys?
"You're fine. Truly." She called Winter over, ever the ice-breaker a pup could be, and was rewarded with the sight of her cousin's smile growing brighter.
"Oh, and who is this adorable creature?" Vaella was leaning down and scratching behind his ear. "He's a hunting dog, no?" Her attention shifted back to Winter. “A most beautiful one.”
"Direwolf." Visenya corrected.
Vaella paused mid-stroke, and her eyes grew wider; it took her a few seconds’ time to speak. "Ah, so he's the one everyone was talking about, yes?" Vaella resumed showering him with attention, hands so delicate and pale scratching and patting him with only a hint of wariness.
Winter was clearly enjoying it, given how his tongue was hanging out.
"Yes."
"Well, I've heard naught but good things about you, sweet pup." Vaella's voice was soft and gentle, and her actions were careful and considerate, so unlike how most would pat a hound with so heavy a thud or rough a touch.
It pleased Visenya greatly.
Such was the reason she was content to sit and watch her cousin, and watch the pup enjoy his petting and praise.
"Does he have a name?"
"Winter."
"Oh, and what a fitting name that is! Yes, a fitting name for a most adorable creature." Vaella continued to lavish attention on the pup, and after a few more moments passed, her gaze moved from the pup and up towards her. "Apologies. I intended not to get lost in the moment, and instead, get your lessons underway. The King was very clear in expressing his desire that you become fluent in our natural tongue, and that you become acquainted with the customs, and traditions of our culture."
Visenya stopped short her nose from wrinkling. She had already a culture and traditions, what need was there to learn those of another she’d not keep to — was not the language good enough?
She didn't ask such, knowing her father had his desires.
"Well, let's begin then.” Visenya edged forth in her seat, her eyes falling to where High Valyrian was written with words in the Common Tongue below.
"We shall, Cousin." Vaella grinned and pointed towards the book, the index finger of her free hand brushing over the pages. “Today, we aim to see you learn the words of greeting and farewell, the proper ones. It was also requested you learn how to express your love or affection for others — plural or singular, formal or informal, much is there to learn in our tongue.”
Visenya wished she’d have taken lessons back in the North, with Maester Luwin.
At least then, it would have been familiar, and the lessons not quite so tedious or trying.
Still, she was thankful for Vaella's company.
Her cousin was a kind and caring soul, and she spoke slowly and kindly, her tone always warm. More and more, she seemed the part of another Daenerys.
It was the first thing she'd appreciated of her lessons, the second was the ease with which her cousin would answer her questions and explain a phrase, or a word.
She’d have gotten on so well with her old Maester.
Visenya took a long drink of her wine and let out a sound of pleasure. The wine had been cool and refreshing, and very deserved — in her mind — after all the talking she’d done, and the amount of information that had been given unto her.
“I said it when last we met, but you have the voice for our tongue. Truly, your Valyrian is superb, cousin. It sounds as what I imagined our ancestors in Old Valyria would speak like.” Vaella closed the tomes and books that’d been laid out for their lesson.
Visenya wasn't so sure; the words had been spoken carefully, and yet she'd stammered and stuttered, her pronunciations not as smooth and fluid as what she'd wanted them to be. Undoubtedly, that Northern accent her family would tease her for would not help her any.
She took a second sip, and when her lips parted from the rim, she smiled. "Thank you, Cousin. And thank you for the patience. I can only imagine how frustrating it must be to correct a novice and try to get her to understand the differences and intricacies of a language that's not her own."
"You are more than welcome, Princess Visenya." Vaella nodded, and with the same grace as Rhaenys, her cousin bowed and curtseyed. “And ‘tis no issue, nor bother. Your desire to learn is enough to encourage me. We will work hard, and you will prove fluent as any other of the Royal family in a year’s time. I swear it.”
Visenya doubted such. She'd a good memory, that was true, and her understanding of the language was improving, but a year's time would only grant her a surface level understanding, mayhaps intermediate were she fortunate. Maester Luwin had said how hard it was for one to learn any foreign tongue when she’d made mention of it during a lesson.
She opened her mouth to give thanks, but as had happened when last she’d had a lesson, Aegon and Rhaenys both entered the library, the latter carrying flowers.
"Little sister, Vaella." Rhaenys grinned and walked over, initially making to kiss Visenya on the cheek… but she pulled up short. "I hope your lesson was an enjoyable one."
"It was. Thank you, sister." Visenya nodded, her eyes curious; Rhaenys wasn’t being her typical self. Mayahps it was Vaella’s presence?
Yes, that was right. It had to be.
“Vaella, we’ve come to take our lovely little sister away. Would you like an escort back to your rooms, or mayhaps the gardens? I think the Queen has a few flowers from the Reach she's brought." Rhaenys' voice was gentle, and she smiled, her hand squeezing her thigh in an odd, repeating manner.
"You have my thanks, Princess, but my father should arrive shortly. We'd planned on taking a trip to the markets, and seeing the city together."
"A fair thing, Vaella. Enjoy your time. I hear we’ve a selection the likes of which none have seen." Rhaenys gave a squeeze and patted her. "We'll see you on the morrow. Mayhaps all of us come soon could share a meal.”
Aegon agreed, and Visenya followed along, her attention going from the conversation, to the flower being handed to her.
"A gift, Vis. For the lovely sister we have." Rhaenys smiled and held it out, her thumb brushing over the petals.
Aegon came over with another she’d not seen when first he’d appeared. He stepped close, and pulled her forth, to her feet — his hands sought out her hair, and the flower was tucked neatly into her braid. He stepped back thereafter, admiring his work while not crowding her. "Beautiful, as always."
"And now, even more." Rhaenys stood and kissed her cheek once.
Visenya allowed it; she was poised for reprisal if her big sister attempted to push her.
"Shall we go, sister?" Rhaenys offered her arm, and Visenya, after a moment, looped hers through; Aegon did the same with her other, and with a wave to her cousin, they walked out.
Winter received one last burst of affection from her cousin, then, like the dragons, the Direwolf was off, happily trotting after them as he nipped at the heels of the Rhaenys and Aegon — never Visenya.
Visenya desired a change of dress following her studies with Vaella, for the summer’s heat had been stifling and she'd sweat a fair amount, her shift and outer gown clinging uncomfortably to her body.
As a result, the trio, before heading to the Dragon’s Arena, decided to stop by her chambers and allow her a brief change of clothes lest she be uncomfortable.
Aegon and Rhaenys waited a room over whilst Dacey kept hold of Winter by her chamber entrance; Ser Loras, last she saw, had been trying to pet the pup whilst maintaining a degree of bearing — he was absolutely adorable.
Quickly, she stripped and put on the shift and outer gown of a fresh colour, one not as heavy, and that she'd picked from the trunk of Northern clothing her family had seen shipped to the Capital alongside Robb; another lovely gift and aid in feeling close to them.
She reached back to see the back of her new gown was done-up, but found the task difficult, her hands struggling to grip the threads required.
Visenya, huffing so much that a few errant strands of hair came undone from her braid, decided she needed aid, and called out for the help she desired.
No answer came from Rhaenys or Aegon alike, and so Visenya started for the door, and walked towards the sitting room.
As she neared, she heard a strange sound, the likes of which drew her forward and caused her steps to increase in speed until she came to a very sudden and abrupt stop. Her cheeks warmed at the sight that greeted her.
Rhaenys was atop her brother, their clothing dishevelled and bunched in ways that normally would’ve seen either most annoyed. Her big sister’s mouth was locked to Aegon’s, and the Visenya observed their kisses wet and heavy as they were. Her eyes drifted lower after an uncomfortably long moment of watching as they grinded against one another.
Visenya jolted back, her soft footfalls not alerting them to her presence.
With chest pounding, she peered once more, and was rewarded with a glimpse of skin and her sister's breasts. They were large and tanned just as she was, with large, brown nipples — far, far darker than the pink she was familiar with.
The warmth she felt grew.
When Rhaenys and Aegon each let out a noise, her heart skipped a beat, and her curiosity overcame her embarrassment; she peered closer, her eyes taking in how Rhaenys’ dress had been bunched up around her waist and smallclothes ripped. Then, how her brother’s trousers were unlaced and pulled low.
Aegon was thrusting his hips up, his hands gripping Rhaenys’ waist tightly; she was… they were…
Her cheeks were surely burning hotter than any torch or cooking pot might, and her pulse was quick as if she were sparring. Visenya swallowed, and tried to look away as her stomach did a flip, and her chest tightened; she could feel the odd sensation returning, but it was more potent than ever before.
Rhaenys was moaning and grunting, and Aegon was groaning words in Old Valyrian she doubted she’d ever learn as their bodies were moving as one.
Then, all at once, they both made a noise, and Rhaenys went still. She made a coo-like noise and leaned forward to nip at Aegon’s neck, whispering words ‘Senya couldn’t make out.
Visenya was shaken free from her stupor then, and with her body feeling warmer than what was natural, she scurried back to the far side of the room which she’d been before, and pretended she'd seen nothing, her hands shaking.
What had she seen?
They were… and she was… and then Aegon was…
Visenya didn't have a clue what it all meant, her thoughts and feelings too jumbled and confusing.
She didn’t have much time to reflect on it, the pair stepping into the room not a moment later, so it seemed to her.
Both wore the most serene of smiles, and were straightening their clothes, Rhaenys fixing her dress, and Aegon retying the laces of his trousers.
Did they knew she'd seen them?
"Oh, Vis, I forgot to tie your dress." Rhaenys had finished her adjustments and walked over, her cheeks flushed. "Forgive me, please."
"Don't apologise." Visenya shook her head.
Rhaenys laughed, and her hand fell to her cheek. "I seem to remember saying much the same no less than a dozen times. You were so meek, but that's changed now, hasn't it?"
“In part." Visenya nodded, her gaze lowering; her thoughts and words were hard-formed, and she felt distracted, the image of the pair stuck in her head. “It’ll change more.”
"You're so adorable." Rhaenys pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"So very adorable." Aegon agreed, his hand giving her an awkward pat on the shoulder.
"Let's finish your dress and be on our way. There's a melee to watch, yes?"
"Yes, there is."
"Good." Rhaenys finished tying the back of her dress and kissed her forehead.
Visenya couldn't keep the warmth from her face as the pair saw her firmly smushed betwixt their larger forms.
As Ser Loras and Dacey greeted them upon the trio exiting, she found she had not so much as one word to say in greeting — all she managed was a red-faced smile she made to hide in Rhaenys’ side.
Her big sister didn't say anything, only allowed her to do as she was, while very likely enjoying how ‘cute’ she was being. At least a shield in the form of either would always be present when required.
That worked out very well for her; Visenya need decide what she would do.
Who she would speak with.
One came to mind over all others for the answers she sought.
Chapter 18: Overthinking
Notes:
Here's Chapter 18! I hope you all enjoy and I had a lot of fun reading your reactions to that last chapter -- this one is definitely another fun one.
On a side-note, edits for 19,20,21 and 22 are all but done, up to Chapter 36 is written with 37 now past 9k words at the time of my posting this. I think within the next 2 to 3 months, this first book with 45 chapters will be concluded.
Thank you all very much, and have a lovely rest of your weekend -- I'll see you in another two weeks for an update!
Chapter Text
Visenya couldn’t focus as she rode in the wheelhouse once more — at Mother’s behest — the constant jostling only further seeing her thoughts scatter and her attention fail.
Even Winter’s companionship as the pup lay curled on her lap didn’t aid her.
Her thoughts went back and forth between the scene she'd seen in the chamber and her feelings.
The heat in her cheeks and the warmth that had filled her belly were still present.
Why did they do such a thing?
Aegon was her brother, and Rhaenys, her sister… and they’d… they'd done that. Gods. She knew they’d likely done something together — they were Targaryens raised as such. But seeing it was a whole…
She bit her lip.
The more she thought, the more the feeli—
“My sweet girl, you’re redder than what a day spent basking in the sun should see fit to do. Is the heat too much for you, perhaps? Or—“ Elia, who’d been content to speak with the others that’d joined them, leaned forward and whispered the next. "—has your moon’s blood come?”
That only brought more blood forth, to her shame, and it left her stammering, and her tongue unable to form the words her mind could, and her mouth couldn't.
The Queen chuckled, and reached forth, patting her knee. "There, there, sweet child. We all must bear the burden and suffer through the pains of such a thing, but I'll grant you this much; you look all the more sweet when so flustered. Come to me if you have any wants or aid."
Visenya looked away and huffed, attempting a pout — one that’d see her visage change, and hopefully, turn attention away from her redness or the talk of her moons-blood.
"So sweet." Elia leaned forward again, and placed a kiss upon her forehead.
Close as she was, Visenya used one of those slight hands to hold onto the upper sleeve of the woman, and pulled her forward, so that her lips were close to her ear, and the whispers she said would go unheard.
"Mother… I-I… might we speak later? After the arena?” Visenya kept her words swiftly said lest Rhaenys or another, even Daenerys, overhear.
Elia smiled and kissed her cheek. "Of course. Come by tonight, after you've supped. You can ask any questions you like then."
"Thank you."
Elia laughed softly. "You are very welcome, my sweet — I should hope you know by now, I'll always make time for my sweet, baby girl."
Visenya's eyes rolled, her embarrassment growing worse at the woman's fussing; would her birth mother have done the same?
"Mother, are you teasing my sister again?" Rhaenys called, her tone a playful one.
"Would I do such a thing?" Elia's eyes flashed with a hint of mirth.
"Yes, Mother, you would."
The Queen laughed and pulled her in close, sending her eldest a victorious look. "And if I were, Daughter? I'm Queen. If I wish to tease, spoil and coddle my youngest, I can and shall." She cast a look down at Visenya, and then pulled a face that was most amusing.
Rhaenys snorted, whilst Daenerys, Tyene and Nymeria all laughed, the latter two doing so the loudest; they seemed to have a more open personality, like Arya did... as Arya had.
Visenya narrowed her eyes as those violets of hers scanned the crowd, near and far, noble or commoner; she hated how, whensoever they arrived, all would turn and gape and stare, their attention on her, her siblings, Mother and Father, Daenerys. It seemed all they desired was to look upon the Royal family.
Yet, attention they might all receive, 'twas her and Daenerys that seemed particularly fixated upon. Their 'Valyrian looks' as her sister had so casually said were drawing many stares. It confused her, given the Celtigar and Velaryon girls looked not unlike her or Daenerys. Well, so she thought.
Her attention moved away from all those who'd gaze upon her, and instead, was focused on her brother. "Aegon? Can you— what are the rules, for the team melee?"
Gods, she'd never even heard of a team melee before.
In truth, she never thought she'd bear witness to any tourney at all, not in the North, hidden in her lovely, warm tower with the Starks to keep her company.
"I'd imagine they'd be similar to the standard melee." Aegon replied. "Only that, 'til the final event when a group from all save for the Iron Islands compete against one another, all who fight do so against men from their own respective Kingdom, th—"
"That's how the best team is determined to represent their Kingdom." Rhaenys sent Aegon the most innocent look when she interrupted, and finished, the words he'd been about to speak.
Visenya only just contained a giggle.
"Yes, Rhae, that's exactly right." Aegon sighed, clearly defeated... or pleased enough with her earlier actions not to bother.
Visenya wasn't sure, and suddenly, as such a thought raced through her, she found she could no longer look upon either sibling. She would but see them in a state of undress and kissing, the noises from her sister, and the grunts from her brother, echoing in her head.
"Sister, are you feeling unwell?" Rhaenys' hand came down to rest on her thigh, and her voice was concerned, just as Mother's had been earlier.
She sighed; this would be her next sennight, at the very least.
Those from the Trident — the first that'd gone — had been a total disappointment, the likes of which was only compounded by the fact the only Tully present, one Lord Edmure, had his team beaten in but his second bout. A group of Blackwoods had bested the Tully grouping, and had earned the honour to fight on the morrow.
Only seven other groups had joined them out of the score and a half or so she thought there'd been; a half-dozen, if not full dozen, had been missed whilst she'd studied or changed her clothing.
And seen...
Gods.
She needed to think about anything else.
Yet, 'twas nought but her siblings that came up no matter what.
Rhaenys was beside her, and Aegon the same. They'd taken up either arm of hers as soon as they'd taken leave of the wheelhouse, and hadn't let go since.
She felt like the little sister being doted upon, but ever-present in the back of her mind was what Targaryens did with little sisters; the thought had her blush grow redder still, were that possible.
“Are we free to leave, or must we watch the men as they bid farewell to their compeers and the crowd alike?” Visenya looked from Rhaenys to Aegon, and back.
Aegon answered her, whilst Rhaenys was busy whispering to Mother and Dany in a conversation not meant for her ears. "We can do as we please. Father and Mother won’t begrudge us if we retire early."
"Well, if that's the case, then I'd like to do just that." Visenya had found the archery far more entertaining — she made to rise, but her siblings wouldn't allow it. "Rhae, Egg, I want to return to the Keep.”
"Do you now?" Rhaenys' fingers ascertained their grip. “Mother and your dearest twin will be nary another hou—“
“I could take her if you desire to stay, Rhaenys.” Aegon spoke up, his tone suggesting a certain level of eagerness.
Visenya had to hide a huff; his eagerness could so oft be the cause of her concern. The same could be said of Rhaenys’ own excitement, whensoever it was present.
"Oh? Are you asking, Egg, or telling?"
"Telling. I shall escort Vis to the Keep, and have her safely returned."
"I should hope so." Rhaenys looked amused, ‘til conflict came forth in her eyes. Those violets swapping betwixt her siblings, her cousins, Mother and Father, the crowd and back.
Visenya had to wonder what was running through her sister's mind.
But she needn’t do so.
“I’ll join you.” Rhaenys’ words were abruptly spoken as she rose, and pulled Visenya from Aegon, to her, the smaller girl’s figure now firmly pressed into the larger one of her elder sister until Visenya pulled away with a glare.
Rhaenys hadn’t washed after her roll with Aegon, and the scent of her body and the sweat still clinging to it was very much present.
There was even a scent unlike any other she’d ever smelled, and it drew her closer to the girl, her arms coming up and around her so that she might get a more definitive sniff past the perfume Rhaenys wore; gods, was it queer.
"Do you not desire me to do so, little brother?” Rhaenys pressed a kiss to her cheek after she spoke up, and whilst Visenya was still taking in her scent, her arms wound around her shoulders.
“I desire much.” Aegon’s voice sounded throatier, and based on the lower quality, he desired not for any other to hear the words he spoke.
"Oh, is that so?"
"You know it is." Again, there was a quality to his voice she thought… related to their earlier activities.
She wiggled, trying to slip away lest the pair start a repeat, but her attempts were thwarted.
Rhaenys tightened her grip and sent her a look of scolding. “Don't you go moving about, little sister. I enjoy our closeness.”
“Does she?” Aegon seemed to ask in half-jest, that was certain, but Rhaenys didn't seem to think the same.
Rather than playfully reply as she expected, her big sister turned her, and with their faces but inches apart, and their noses touching, spoke. "You’d tell your big sister if she was bothersome, wouldn’t you, my sweet little sister?"
“You remember the dress and the deftness of your hands, do you not?” Visenya would always recall the first time she’d put her foot down and scolded her sister.
The first of many, no doubt.
Especially if the pair were… taking a certain aim.
Rather than look abashed as she had at the time, Rhaenys gave a wide grin. “I do. The first time your dragon awoke, and to think it was I that roused it from so deep a slumber. I feel quite proud of myself for that… and guilty, of course. I was bad."
Visenya could but blink as Rhaenys giggled and Aegon looked betwixt them.
Was this all some game?
She felt her blood heat, and her annoyance at the occasional antics of Rhaenys rise forth; that’d not been amusing to her, the desire for Visenya to act more a southron harlot.
Yet, as the pair saw them off, giving farewells to Mother and Father — and Daenerys and Lord Monford — with promises of their own farewells, the anger left her.
They were teasing her, as Arya or Robb had once done, albeit in a different manner.
But, in that same comparison, had she not grown annoyed with the actions of her past siblings and current cousins if they took a step beyond which she was comfortable?
As Rhaenys and Aegon led her out, the epitome of pleased, happy royals, she couldn't help but wonder just how she was meant to act with them. There was far too much complexity in a Targaryen family when compared to the Starks she'd been raised alongside.
Gods, help her.
Visenya had only just put to bed her Rickon and his pup, the pair snuggled up together on the former's bed in a similar position as he'd taken since she'd first noticed, and was leaving the area with Winter in-hand and Dacey as well as Ser Loras flanking her, when Rhaenys and Daenerys appeared.
Her twin immediately wrapped her up in a hug, pressing a kiss to her cheek and giggling when Winter rose up to lick her chin.
Rhaenys had not moved as quickly, instead, her big sister seemed red of face, as if she was deeper in her cups than was normal at this time of night, and so her steps were more deliberate. There also seemed to be a mischievousness about her.
Well, one that went beyond her usual.
"Little Sister." Rhaenys grinned and wrapped her up in a hug of her own, one that encompassed her, 'Naerys and Winter alike; it was a second or so later Visenya found Rhaenys' face rubbing against hers. "Oh, how cool you feel 'gainst me. Mmmm."
Visenya prodded at Rhaenys’ flank. She was definitely drunk.
"I've a question, one for the both of you." Daenerys said, her own cheeks flushed a similar red, but her eyes seemed less glassy, and her words not slurred. "D’you think Lord Monford is a good match? Mother is worried, and Rhaegar, whilst he has proven fond of the good and handsome and ever so… I mean, the lord, questions if I might be better off with a man who has not a reputation of taking multiple—“ her twin looked around before she said the final word, and in the most hushed of tones. “—lovers.”
Rhaenys pulled back with a giggle, then squeezed herself betwixt the two smaller girls, an arm wrapping around the waist of each. "What's wrong with multiple lovers, auntie? In Dorne, love is so very common."
Past the red of face Rhaenys — whose words seemed increasingly slurred — Daenerys and Visenya shared a look.
The latter was the one to speak, while the former was, mayhaps, too full-up on wine, or her desire for her Lord Monford, to do so with any real speed.
“One could find love that isn’t rooted in physical pleasure, or spend time on skills of value.” Visenya couldn’t help but raise her nose; how few Dornish could best her in a competition of archery?
Rhaenys laughed openly, and then ‘stumbled’, seeing herself closer still to Visenya; she spoke into her ear in the second’s time she was draped over her.
“Aren’t you curious?”
Visenya felt a shiver run down her spine at the hot breath that tickled her skin and the words, a hint of something very unsisterly present, and she was about to pull back and give a sharp reply, but her sister did the same first, her body swaying, and her steps, those that followed, clumsy. "To my chambers!" Rhaenys' call was slurred as the words she'd spoken to Visenya were. "We need... we need wine too. S'Jaime, have a bottled fetched when we'turn to my chambers."
"Of course, Princess." Ser Jaime replied.
Visenya could but shake her head, and then Rhaenys 'accidentally' fell into her, pushing her against the wall, her sister's arms on either side of her.
"You're so cute." Her words were whispered.
"And you're drunk."
Rhaenys snorted, and pushed back, her legs unsteady, and her balance precarious.
Thankfully, Daenerys was there, and had her arm wrapped around Rhaenys' waist, holding her up, even as her twin was laughing. "Come on, Rhaenys. Let's get you to your chambers." She was acting the part of a responsible aunt, but the giggling was ruining the effect, as was the showing of drink in her face; it was only just that the girl wasn't half as drunk as her big sister.
Visenya snickered at the thought of her aunt — who was of a similar smallness to herself — being able to out-drink Rhaenys.
"What's so funny?" Daenerys looked over her shoulder, arching a brow in a manner that, with that earlier-mentioned pinkness of face, made her look sweet as candy, and not intimidating as she likely intended.
Visenya bit her lip, and then shook her head, her hands clasped behind her back as she walked forward. "Oh, nothing."
Daenerys snorted.
And nary a score of steps later, they were in Rhaenys' chambers.
Ser Jaime had done as she'd asked before the trio could so much as settle comfortably.
"Mother?" Visenya had thought when Daenerys and Rhaenys had changed into apparel befitting a night's end that they were all soon to sleep, but, after the pair had seen her tucked into a chair with a glass of wine in-hand, her sister and cousin had gone and had food ordered; then, as had just happened, Mother had arrived.
"Hello, my sweet." Elia swept into the room, the door closing shut firmly at her heels. As Visenya had known she'd do, Mother had gone straight for her first, wrapping her up in a hug that was gentle, and yet strong. "Forgive me. I can't keep from pulling you close whenever we see one another."
"Mother." Visenya's tone was whiney, petulant, even, just as Arya would be when Catelyn... "I'll not begrudge you." Having a mother was, truly, wonderful.
"You won't?"
Visenya shook her head, and smiled up at the taller, kind, beautiful woman before her; she was as much a mother she'd ever get in life. Why would she punish the woman, or dissuade her from all the affection she could steal? "No."
"Then I'll continue." Elia kissed her forehead, and then pulled her closer, their bodies pressed tightly against one another's. "I shall hold you 'til Rhaenys gets jealous — then I'll hold you more to see how red the pair of you grow. Ahh, how wondrous a night this will be."
Visenya rolled her eyes, and her tongue stuck out.
Elia chuckled, and made a show of trying to catch it, the girl having to struggle lest her tongue be taken; the giggling as she rolled around was heard by Daenerys and Rhaenys alike.
"Come over then, don't simply sit and stare if you desire affection for yourself. I've no desire for Vis to leave my arms." Elia's tone was warm, inviting, but also covetous in the way that Rhaenys' oft sounded when it came to her.
Her twin and Rhaenys shared a look, one that had Daenerys spring into action sans hesitation, while Rhaenys followed after her with a grin, her steps slow and purposeful; they had to be, Visenya thought, given the amount of drink her elder sister had consumed even since their arrival to her chambers.
Daenerys fell to Elia's other side, reaching them seconds before Rhaenys did, her smaller twin pulling the arm of the older woman free, and then wrapping her own around her waist, while Rhaenys stalked forth as a wolf might, a smile on her lips; it was so very much like Robb when he’d tease Arya or Sansa — it never worked on he—
Visenya could barely adjust before Rhaenys sprang upon her, the older girl's hands grabbing at her waist, and pulling her forth and up and around, until the smaller girl was sat atop her, her legs dangling either side, and her arms wrapped tightly around her neck, her cheek pressed firmly to the chest of her elder sister.
"Mmmm." A noise that was almost a growl reverberated through Rhaenys, and then the girl's face was pressing itself into the crook of her neck, the hot breath sending a shiver down her spine. Victorious words came free of her thereafter. "I win, Mother."
Elia only seemed amused by the antics of her eldest, and, her lips having found the top of Daenerys' head, kissed her hair, and then her cheek. "So you think, and so I'm content to allow you to think, for the moment." She let out a happy-sounding sigh. "A meal for just the women of our family — my girls."
"What're Aegon and Father doing?" Visenya had to express her curiosity following her Mother's words. So oft, it was all of them.
"They're drinking." Elia's response was succinct. "Father and Son need spend some time together alone, without all the she-dragons present."
Rhaenys let out a puff of air. "She-dragons."
"Indeed." Elia gave each of them a pat with one of those soft hands of hers. "The most lovely, beautiful she-dragons."
Daenerys and Visenya squirmed under the older woman's attention as she lavished it, and, whilst her twin had turned her head so as to hide her face, she'd not.
Mother's attention was a wondrous thing she'd only come to cherish the more she was given, even if it made her feel embarrassed and flush. It was… gods, it was just perfect.
"Do you desire to sit at a table, or have you three found yourselves comfortable here?" Elia didn't seem the least bit bothered by the prospect of taking their meal all bundled together.
"Here." Daenerys and Rhaenys both answered at once.
"Here." Visenya spoke afterwards, her voice the quietest.
"As you wish."
Nary a score of minutes later, the four were eating.
Visenya sat nestled betwixt Mother and Rhaenys, her spot the warmest and most comfortable given the soft flesh that pressed itself to either side.
Rhaenys, the most touchy-feely, and seemingly drunker with every passing minute, had her hands all over her, the touches seeming to last longer than was normal, and the fingers that did the touching had begun to trail places where they shouldn't... it was most improper for one lady to touch the thighs of another, or allow their hand to wonder to the small of one’s back, but the kneading felt wondrously good.
Yet, even the way she'd fed honeyed-cakes to her had seemed off; couldn't Rhaenys have sucked the honey from her fingers herself, and not offer them to her to lick, or, at the very least, used a cloth to wipe the sticky residue?
At least Mother had given her a word of warning.
Visenya let out a yawn, one that saw a squeak come forth of its own accord at the end. The body heat that surrounded her, the food she was filling herself with, the copious amount of wine she'd drunk. All of it together saw her ready for sleep — she was feeling rather warm too, and there was a tingling that made her feel uncertain.
"My sweet Vis, would you like to return to your own chambers?" Elia's voice was but a whisper, but, the room being quiet, she heard it loud and clear.
She shook her head. "I'm comfortable."
"As am I." Daenerys added in, her face looking a touch less pink, but her eyes looking a bit glassier than when Mother had first entered the room.
"As are we all." Rhaenys set aside the platter she'd set to rest atop one of those wide hips, and then leaned back, pulling Visenya with her, and the latter had no choice but to do the same, else fall over.
The next moment, and Rhaenys was laying down, Visenya atop her, the smaller girl's back to her chest, the older girl's arms wrapped around her midsection.
"I'll stay with the three of you for a short while longer." Elia rose from her seat on feet that were far too steady for a woman who'd drunk as much wine as she had. Visenya opened her mouth to ask just how accustomed to drink Mother was, but found that sleepiness grow stronger still as a blanket was pulled over her.
"My babies." Elia pressed a kiss to the back of Visenya's neck as she withdrew, the blanket coming to a stop at her shoulder — she turned too, Visenya could tell by the rustling of the fabric, if her words hadn't given that away a second's time later. "Daenerys? Will you not lay with them?"
"I shall." Her twin didn't sound the least bit uncertain, and slithered across the fabric 'til her own body was pressed tightly to Visenya's, her nose burying itself in the hair at the base of her neck.
It made Visenya giggle.
Drunken silliness. How unlike her, and yet, she was enjoying it.
When Elia set a pillow by the side of them, and kneeled atop it, Visenya thought she was going to say a prayer... which was very queer. She felt the blanket moved lower by a hand's width, and then, a brush was pulled through her hair.
"Oh." It sent a bolt of pleasure, the feeling of her hair being toyed with.
"Is it alright if I brush your hair, my sweet?" Elia's question was asked belatedly.
Visenya nodded her head, the feel of the bristles running across her scalp drawing forth a sound not unlike that of a cat purring. "Yes, Mother."
Rhaenys' arms squeezed her tighter, and a low, throaty groan escaped the girl, one that she followed up on by nuzzling into the back of her neck; her sister's hands, strong, yet soft, began to work the flesh of her back. The familiar kneading was gentle at first, but soon became firm, and Visenya felt her muscles relax under the pressure in such a way that had her eyes rolling.
She thought she'd melt as the dual sensations — the feel of her hair being brushed, and her sister massaging her back, all the while her twin snuggled into her neck — all worked in tandem. The warmth, the comfort, the love, all of it made her eyes drift shut.
If this was to be her life, mayhaps, she would finally and truly admit, it wasn't a bad one to live.
Late in the evening, and after Rhaenys had been taken by sleep — the drink likely helping — Visenya found herself desiring that conversation she’d made mention of earlier.
Elia was conversing with Daenerys, but the latter was soon to leave, for she too had drank more than her fair share, and the hour was growing later, and the night darker.
And so once Mother had seen her out, and the door had closed, the pair were ‘alone’.
Visenya knew then it was time she made her move.
"Mother." She took the woman's hand and guided her to the chaise, the pair of them settling upon it, her own arms wrapped around one of Mother's, her chin rested atop the soft flesh.
"What troubles you, my sweet Vis?" Elia was stroking her hair with the hand not currently held in the younger's. “You said there was something you'd discuss with me in private, but never did make mention of it. Are you unwell, my little wolf-dragon?"
"No, nothing of the sort." Visenya shook her head.
"Then, pray, tell me what does ail you, or is it a concern?"
Visenya chewed on her bottom lip, her gaze drifting from the face of Mother to the floor, and her ears, though muffled by the flesh they were pressed against, could pick up the sound of breathing, and a soft humming, both belonging to Rhaenys.
"Well?"
"I… saw." Visenya could not speak her mind.
"Saw what, sweet girl?"
"Aegon and Rhaenys. They were—"
"Making love?"
Visenya looked up sharply, a flush upon her face. By the manner of her mother’s words, and her knowing expression, was it so very obvious? Was that why the pair were so free with their affection towards one another?
Was that the reason they lavished their little sister with the same attention?
"It is nothing to be ashamed of, my sweet. Aegon and Rhaenys have always had a bond beyond that of brother and sister — come soon enough, they’ll be wed.” Elia smiled, as if she herself was also eager for the day. "Do you not desire a husband of your own, sweet girl?"
"I… would."
“And would you not desire joining yourself to the man you loved, as you had seen your brother and sister do, or as even your parents had?” Elia’s words portrayed no lust or lewdness, but a simple curiosity, the type that came of a mother… she imagined.
Visenya couldn't help but imagine herself in Rhaenys’ place, a handsome Lord atop her, their lips pressed against one another's.
Would the kisses be gentle, or fierce, and the touches, would they be the same, or would he, too, wish to claim her in every way?
A shudder ran through her at the thought.
"Oh, my sweet, sweet girl." Elia cooed, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, her hand now stroking her hair. "I can see the conflict within you, but there is nothing to fear, nor should there be any shame. There comes a time where every woman must take a man to bed, and, should that happen, then it is a wondrous thing. Or, should I say, it’s meant to be, should the match be well-made — yours will be. Very well-made and safe.”
“A woman shouldn’t seek too much pleasure though, surely? It’s how she could become—“ Visenya lowered her voice for the final word. “—wanton.”
Elia chuckled. "Sweet Vis, there is no shame in love, or lust. If one can find one or the other with their husband, then they are lucky. Both, and they are luckier still"
Visenya had to shake her head; this was going far, far from what she’d first desired to speak of.
Somehow, Mother had gotten her thinking of child-making.
"What's that look?"
"This isn't what I wanted to talk about." Visenya grumbled.
"Your siblings? You needn't worry. I'd be lying if I said they'd not bedded one another before, The pair are very fond of each other. Better that than another case of Blacks and Greens, no?”
"But they're related!" Visenya couldn’t stop the whisper-yell. “Siblings and unwed. Surely caution, at the very least, should be had. Or. Or… you should at the very least discourage them, lest they ruin their reputations before either so much as takes the title of King or Queen.”
Elia laughed, and then pulled her in for a hug. "Sweet girl. So much like Lyanna — sometimes I wonder if wolves only hunt the words which they seek, and let all others drift on by.” Mother leaned in, and pressed a kiss to ‘Senya’s cheek. “I would not punish them, but discretion would, indeed, be wise. Though, I would say that begs the question of where you’d found them rutting.”
“We were in her chambers. Or mine. I can’t recall — they… I tried to act as if I’d not seen them, but I think Rhaenys might know.”
Elia nodded her head. "I'll speak with the pair of them in the morning, and have them keep their trysts behind a locked door, and without the company of others in one of their many rooms.” Mother gave her a teasing look now that all seemed said on her part. “Is the matter settled? Or would you like me to summon you and Rhaenys on the morrow so that the pair of you mig—?"
"No!" Visenya's voice was shrill, and loud enough that the girl sent a look Rhaenys’ way, finding the latter thankfully still sleeping.
Elia let out a breathy laugh and held up a hand. “I only jest, my sweet. Always will I see your secrets kept safely." She shifted and brought up juice — Visenya had called for it after ‘but her third’ glass of wine — to her lips. “Now, my darling, might we speak on a matter I myself had wished to broach?"
"Of course." It was the least ‘Senya thought she could do for her mother after all the woman had done for her, be it tonight, or throughout all the time they’d shared.
"Grandchildren — how many might you be inclined to give your dear old Mother?"
Visenya flushed red, and sputtered, the suddenness of the question throwing her off balance.
When beautiful laughter came after a few seconds of — she hoped — faux seriousness, Visenya couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief; Rhaenys’ teasing, if she’d not confirmed it prior, most certainly came from Mother.
The next few days of the melee team portion of the tourney went by in a blur. Betwixt Winter, Rickon, the possessiveness of dragons and her lessons, she’d had little desire to truly mind the men that fought far from the final bouts that’d see the winner crowned the champion.
Mayhaps she also thought of what she’d been witness to, and her desire to know more.
Visenya was pulled from her reverie by way of an owl, the animal's hoot sounding loud and clear from a branch outside her window.
She turned away from her mind and pulled up one hand that had idly sought southron fields at the memory of her siblings in so carnal a position.
Gods, she couldn’t shake the image they’d made.
Rhaenys beneath Aegon, the writhing of her figure, the sweat upon her brother’s body, the heat that'd emanated from the pair when they’d joined her... the smell.
Visenya shook her head.
That was no way for a proper young lady to think.
Aegon was her brother, Rhaenys her sister — it was wrong. Targaryen they call her, but not all took brother or sister to bed. Some were normal as any Targaryen could be.
Gods.
She rolled over, the blankets twisting ‘round her and the bedding rustling, and she let out a groan as a breeze tickled at her skin; she was still clad in a thin shift, the fabric having been the only barrier she'd had from the heat, and the nightly visitation she'd received.
Her thoughts turned again, and again.
The way Rhaenys had moaned. The way Aegon had grunted.
Visenya couldn't help her own groan at the remembrance, and the hand she'd pulled from her southron fields returned to its spot, lingering in the pale, soft hair that grew betwixt her thighs.
Again, she rolled atop those insufferably soft silken sheets, her feet kicking as she did so.
Frustration welled up from her chest and she let out a huff, and then, with the speed of a dragon and an annoyed hiss, she flipped over, and her legs swung over the side. Those slight, pale hands grasped at the sides, and her toes wiggled against the cold stone beneath her feet.
Mayhaps, a drink of water would help.
She took but one step before Winter's snout hit her back, and the direwolf nipped at her shift; it wasn’t like her Winter.
"Are you well, Winter?"
The snout was shoved into her back once more, and the direwolf let out a huff.
"Alright."
She walked over to the pitcher and the cup beside it, and quickly poured herself a drink, and with a bowl thereby, she poured some for Winter.
She drank half of the water, and then set it down.
Winter was still laying upon her bed, the direwolf looking expectantly at her.
Visenya let out a snicker, her desire and thoughts distracted by the demanding, lovable pup that’d seldom left her side since first he’d been given to her.
"Alright, alright."
She climbed back atop the bed, and the moment her buttocks hit the sheets, and her back the pillows, the direwolf was upon her.
"Ah, ah, ah, Winter." She giggled, the fur tickling at her bare legs and her belly while she tried — and mostly succeeded — in keeping the water-filled bowl from being spilled over her.
"Come here." She reached a hand around the back of the direwolf's neck and pulled him in, giving the top of his head a firm, yet loving, kiss, the animal letting out a sound that was something akin to a pleased growl; she’d heard wolves did so.
As he soon thereafter settled into licking at the water, she allowed herself to sink further into the soft sheets, and she closed her eyes, and breathed.
Whilst she settled, she just couldn’t help but wonder; what was the cause of her own immoral, carnal thoughts?
Mother’s words?
The sight she’d seen?
Womanhood, or mayhaps the lustfulness of her dragon side coming out?
There were many and more a possibility, and each one as likely as the last.
She shook her head.
Thankfully, the feeling of a wet tongue against her fingers drew her from the mire of her thoughts, and back to the present.
"Alright." She sighed, and then pulled the bowl out from under her pup, and sat it aside.
With a yawn, she fell back, her head hitting the pillow, and the rest of her following thereafter.
Winter was quick to burrow into her, the warmth and silken softness of her direwolf helping her further along towards sleep.
A sleep that saw dreams of a kind she’d never before had.
In the morning when Visenya rose, she did so to find the presence of another by her bedside; Rhaenys.
That was surprising — not Rhaenys, if any would be watching her sleep, it'd be she — but rather, the presence of her elder sister at all. She slept with the door locked and barred when neither Daenerys nor Rhaenys shared her bed, and a quick, fleeting glance thereto proved that the door was indeed, still barred.
"Good morning, 'Senya."
Visenya blinked at her sister with question plain on her face. "How'd you get in here?"
Rhaenys gave her a playful smile. "Through a door."
Visenya rolled her eyes. "Obviously." She pulled Winter close and sat up as she continued. "The door was locked and barred."
"I'll need show you the many secret passages in Maegor's Holdfast." Rhaenys cocked a hip to one side. "Mayhaps the whole of the Red Keep, in time. When I'm certain my wild little sister wouldn't dash away quick as a hare."
"You think I'd flee?" Visenya arched a brow. The question wasn't meant to be annoyed-sounding or rude, but it'd come out with an honesty to it. "Why?"
Rhaenys was suddenly moving towards her, a smile still on her lips, and the bed dipped a bit under her added weight.
"I've had you in my arms since first I'd heard of your existence. I know you better than any other save for a Stark. I'd seen the fleeting glances you'd taken on our trip South, or the look in your eye before you wrapped your arms around the Stark." Rhaenys avoided calling Robb by name or title, and 'Senya wasn't certain whether to be annoyed or not by the fact. "You've not had a reason to stay. Not truly. I imagine it was only little Rickon and a lack of allies. We haven’t done as well as we should’ve."
Visenya swallowed when her sister had guessed the reasons she'd stayed put; were they so obvious?
Was her mind truly that weak to have shown them upon her face so plainly?
"Oh, 'Senya, there's nothing wrong with it. It's the way of wolves to want their own freedom, their own space, their own territory. Mother and Father said our Winter Mother was much the same — always running off to the woods for a ride, or the occasional hunt or fishing trip. Always wandering away from her family. But you're here, and you're ours. A ride, a walk, a hunt, any is fine, but you'll not go alone. Not without Winter, or one of us. It's for your own protection, and I fear, if not kept an eye upon, you'd wander off accidentally. At least 'til we give you more great a reason to stay." Finished, Rhaenys leaned in and gave her a kiss on the forehead, and then another upon her cheek; she stepped back thereafter. "Won't you stay with your big sister? With your twin? Mother and Father?"
Visenya had chosen to stay, and not only for the issues Rhaenys had made mention of.
She... had seen the South wasn't wholly horrible as most in the North had said. There were pleasures and sights one could not get in the North, and even the Southrons had their good amongst them. It helped, mayhaps, that she was showered with so much attention and affection that she finally believed it was genuine.
Arya and Robb had given their love freely and without thought as to what others would think, as had little Bran and her pup, but Sansa had been only polite. Lady Catelyn had too, though had she been a boy, Visenya thought that'd surely have changed from the distant courtesies the lady had paid her to something worse.
Lord Stark. There was much and more she could say about the relationship they'd had with one another.
Yet, now, it paled to the hugs and genuine eagerness the King gave to her whensoever he was near.
"Silent?" Rhaenys was closer, her big sister's nose touching her own.
"I would tell you a truth, though you might not believe it." Visenya pulled herself back and up, her back coming to rest against the pillows and headboard. "Never seriously did I think of fleeing. I... I shall not lie and say the reasons you made mention of are wrong, but there were other factors that gave to me my decision."
Rhaenys' smile grew. "Which are?"
"You. Our parents. Aegon. Daenerys." She named each with a finger, and then paused, her eyes falling away.
"What is it?" Rhaenys asked, and, in the same instance, her sister's hand found her knee. "You can speak freely, 'Senya. Nothing you say will leave this room. Nor would anything you tell me upset or anger me."
Visenya took a deep breath and nodded. "I've seen the way you and Aegon are. I know little and less of how a good, proper couple should behave, but I think you’ve both… improved towards me, at least. Keep doing so, and I’d be glad to serve you when you rise to King and Queen." ‘twas the truth she spoke. One day, when her siblings ascended, she’d happily answer to them so long as they continued to work on the parts of them she found bothersome.
"You'd never serve us." Rhaenys' hand came up to her chin, and lifted her head.
"Wouldn't I?"
"No, because, you, sweet little sister, would be our prize. Our treasure. We would see to you, and to Winter, and to our future." Rhaenys' eyes bore into hers, and her lips, soft, and full, and inv—… they parted. "We would make sure no harm ever befell you, and that no matter where the future would take us, you would always have a place and home. A family."
Visenya was lost in those amethyst eyes,
Lost in her big sister. The love, the adoration, the care and warmth.
She felt it all.
And then her lips were taken.
It was the swiftest kiss she'd ever received... the only kiss she'd ever received. Wh— Rhaen—.
Visenya couldn't speak, she only peered with the widest of eyes at her big sister, the girl's own gaze holding something akin to desire within it.
"Forgive me, little sister."
Visenya nodded, but still found herself unable to speak. She didn't know what it meant, or why it'd been — did southron girls do that with one another? Thinking back on it, she believed she'd seen Tyene or Nymeria kiss Rhaenys, but she'd not been looking at them directly for any such occasion.
"Is it normal? For southron girls?" She asked, stepping back and raising a hand to her lips; she felt queer — not offended. Not yet. Mayhaps the South was getting to her, but Rhaenys wasn’t hefting her or forcing an embrace. She’d not even tried to hold the kiss for more than a heart’s beat.
Rhaenys blinked at her, and then, a moment later, let out a chuckle.
"No. Most don't kiss their sisters like that." Rhaenys licked her lips. "'Tis more common, I'd imagine, in Dorne, but still uncommon even there."
"Then why?"
"I'm selfish." Rhaenys gave her a sad smile, and then leaned back. "You're so innocent and pure and kind. I want you to stay, 'Senya. I want to protect and love you. To teach you of our heritage and guide you in any way that I can."
The kiss echoed in her mind just as surely as the memory of her siblings' union; she had naught to say. Not even when her hand on her lips to feel where Rhaenys’ had been for little more than a fleeting second’s time pressed where the weight had formerly been; she’d admitted the kiss was not normal, and, yet, it seemed she hadn't meant for her to understand its meaning, and if Visenya was honest, she didn't.
“You’re so uncertain, aren’t you?” Rhaenys seemed to sense the myriad of questions and thoughts running through her head.
She didn't deny the fact.
"Mayhaps this might help answer — Aegon and I would cherish you. Would have you. You fret and worry and speak with Mother, or Daenerys, even I, but I believe you know now how you’d be cared for, don’t you?” Rhaenys shifted until their hips were touching, and their faces level with one another; she didn’t press forth.
"I... you know how I feel on the matter. You and Aegon, Mother and Father, yet I fear all of you will stay the course." Visenya swallowed, and aimed to put some amount of space betwixt her and Rhaenys, but her sister's hands had come to her cheeks and held her in place.
"Stay, 'Senya. Be our sister, and more, and know love." Rhaenys leaned in again, and as Visenya made to react, one way or another... she found she needn't do so; her sister's lips sought out her forehead, and she couldn't help but think there was the same tenderness there as had been placed upon her lips. "Won't you let us spoil you? We’d give you the world, little sister."
"I don't know." Visenya spoke her words, and, in the same instance, turned her face away. Fleeing from the Targaryens had never been an option, and as time passed, it was even less than a thought; a distant memory, perhaps. Mayhaps she'd have hoped to been married to another... she'd certainly desired a handsome Lord with sweet looks and strength to keep safe any babes she bore, but each Targaryen she spoke with only added to the future she imagined was all but set in stone for her.
A future with her siblings.
All had thought the original Aegon the Conqueror and his two sister-wives, elder and younger, to be done once.
Yet, here was she, a girl bearing the same name as the mighty Queen Visenya had made famous, with a Rhaenys before her and an Aegon that desired her.
Well, she supposed they bo—
"Can I lay with you?" Rhaenys' words took her from the mire of her mind, and when their eyes met, Visenya could see the vulnerability on the other girl's face.
Did Rhaenys fear her words? She supposed she had been rather silent, and early on or even only recently, she'd most certainly have rebuffed the girl. Perhaps she'd even had run to an adjoining room, but her sister loved her in a fashion beyond sense. Hugs, kisses, tiny baubles or treats she knew Visenya had never the luxury to enjoy, all had Rhaenys showered her with. Sure, one could claim her to be too forward or possessive, ye—
"I see." Rhaenys' voice sounded hurt, and a moment later, the girl was making to rise with a faint wetness to her eyes and a look of pain upon her face.
"Wait!" Visenya grasped at her sister's arm. "I— yo— I admit myself confused. Th— Since first I came here, you... Targaryens have been so kind, and so queer. I understand... our family little and less. I readily confess I'd not desired to know much when first I thought you stole, or took me back — I, the thou—" Her words came to a halt, for a momentary pause was needed as Visenya ran out of breath.
In that time, Rhaenys moved back to where she'd been, then closer, wrapping Visenya's smaller frame within her arms; she allowed her big sister that. "I made jest of stealing you when I remembered the custom of the Wildlings — you know we had to take you, don't you? The life of Marna Snow was as false a story as any could conjure. Our Winter Mother would have raised you here alongside Aegon and I. You would've known the love of our Mothers, and our Father, of Aegon and I. It was stolen, all of it, an— I shan't get angry, but truly, I would seek you 'til the ends of the world had we learned of you and lost you a second time."
Visenya blinked, and her mouth opened and closed as if she'd speak, but nothing came forth.
"You’re our family. You were meant to be raised here, with us." Rhaenys pressed her cheek to Visenya's forehead. "We won't hurt you, and we'll never force you, but please, know and see that our family wishes you only the best."
After so many words so frantically said by her sister, and a confession of her worries that'd brought a new light to the situation — and explained the great degree of affection she'd given — as well as her thoughts on the matter, Visenya found herself with naught to say.
Instead, her arms found their way around her big sister, and her body melted into the other girl's.
"Stay." Visenya, for a change, was the one to tighten the grip she had. "Please."
A laugh escaped her elder sibling, and then, a kiss upon her forehead.
"I've dreamt of hearing that since first I laid eyes upon you." Rhaenys pulled back, and, a moment later, Rhaenys nose was pressed into the back of her neck. "We'll have a lay-in. Princesses can do that, you know? 'Tis a perk of our title."
Visenya settled back into the warmth of Rhaenys and let out a sigh as Winter rose to tuck himself into her front; she was the epitome of warmth with the pair. It was due to that warmth, and the fact that she no longer had to look her sister in the eyes, that the next words came forth. "Rhaenys?"
"Hmmm?" Her sister was playing with her hair, those fingers, gentle and soft, running through the silver-gold strands.
"Mayhaps we could have a small... small lay..." Visenya let out a groan when Rhaenys worked her shoulders with one, the other trailing down to settle upon the pale flesh of her hip. Then came a low-sounding moan as those fingers worked their typical wonders, and her body sunk further into the sheets and into her sister's own.
"Speak, little 'Senya. Tell your big sister what you need." Rhaenys whispered.
She swallowed as greed overcame her and an earnest answer beyond what Rhaenys was seeking came forth. “Love.” Her voice wasn’t small or weak, nor was it demanding or pleading, it was naught but honest in what she truly desired were it not obvious to all already. “The love of family. All of you give me so many a gift, and be they new dresses or jewellery, or a dagger — even the finest and warmest cloak that would ward away the cold of a Northern winter, I only want what I’ve seen so many others have.”
Rhaenys' fingers, the ones not wrapped up in her hair, found her chin and turned as well as lifted her head so that their eyes could meet. "You have it, dear little sister. You've had it since first we heard your name, and every day thereafter. You've had it since Mother and Father saw you. Since Dany. Aegon. Even Grandmother or Nuncle Aemon."
Visenya willed the water that’d begun to form in her eyes away, and when her sight cleared, she saw her sister's own face was equally wet-seeming.
No further words were needed, for her arms soon found their way around the girl that was her sister, and her body moulded to hers.
They'd laid there together for the better part of an hour.
Rhaenys had spoken with her, and the two had laughed, and they'd talked of her time in the North, and how the North differed from the South, and of her Tower. Her big sister wasn't half as fond of the tales Visenya could tell when it came to her time sequestered away in but a tiny portion of Winterfell, and, instead, spoke more about the beauty of nature when it came to the details she inquired about.
Visenya had, after all, ridden many a time in the forest surrounding the castle, and hunted and fished just as any of her cousins would. She'd climbed the trees, and she'd played in the streams. She'd made tiny forts from deadfall, and she'd slept beneath the stars... until her Uncle had found out and grown very cross with her lack of proper rest or care for personal safety.
"I should keep you locked in my rooms for a moon to learn all that you could tell me about yourself." Rhaenys said such words as she tied the back of Visenya's new, silken dress.
Despite the kiss or covetous desire Rhaenys held for her, after their conversation, Visenya found herself more comfortable 'round the older girl. Sure, her wants were as queer to her as the actions she'd committed were, but the love was clear and true, and, thus, she'd not deny her so long as their new, unspoken boundaries weren’t tried.
She’d not deny herself either; Visenya would take every hug, every whispered sentence full-up with love, and every touch.
"You'd try." Visenya twirled once she'd felt Rhaenys' hands leave her.
The dress was beautiful; a deep, vibrant red with silver embroidery around the hems and cuffs. It was cut like a Northron dress, but with the fine silks of the South. She would need give thanks to Elia, Rhaenys and ‘Naerys all for the detail they'd put forth when it came to her manner of dress.
She felt a little silly, though, wearing such finery. The various pieces of jewellery that went along with the — already too expensive — dress only made her feel more out of her element.
"You look gorgeous."
Visenya flushed at the words, and the praise. "Thank you."
Rhaenys pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You always do, though I should think you'd grow cross with me if I said it aloud as oft as I thought it." Her hands came 'round Visenya's front then, the fingers thereof tapping once at each of Visenya's ribs; the frown on her face was easy to spot. "I know the Starks had you eat at their table alongside them, but I can't help but wonder if they fed you properly. You're so thin, little sister."
She was thinner than most any other girl — save for Sansa — in the North, certainly, but not by enough to garner worry. The Starks certainly hadn't starved her either, no, 'Senya'd just had more freedom and time to put forth strenuous, enjoyable efforts away from four walls and a roof. Robb had always begrudged her that.
"I want for nothing, and I know for certain I've grown larger in the time I've been with you. I've a looking glass, you know." Visenya turned within Rhaenys' embrace, her lips curving upward. "My hips and breasts are growing. My waist too." She was all but a woman grown as any other that milled about the court.
"You'll always be my little sister." Rhaenys' hand rose to her cheek, and, as Visenya closed her eyes to lean into the touch, she felt the other girl's thumb stroke along her skin. "Lysene Doll as I'd claimed before fails to do you justice. You're the Maiden made flesh, and in a form that makes sense — no Andal could ever be a true representation of her."
"You flatter me." Visenya let out a sigh of contentment... and then, naturally, Winter hopped up and demanded her attention, and, thus, her attention the little direwolf received.
Rhaenys looked on with as happy a look as she'd had as of late and whilst doing 'Senya's hair or aiding her with the tying of her dress; cats she might prefer, 'twas true, but any joy of Visenya's was a joy of hers.
"Aegon's likely wondering where we are, 'Senya." Those words came forth as Rhaenys lowered nearer to the ground to join Visenya in petting the pup.
"Mother and Father too?" Visenya worried her bottom lip, that sliver of panic in regards to offending the King and Queen far less prominent than once it'd been, but still, it was present; any sort of rebuff was one such thing that she greatly feared.
"They won't be angry. Father'll have some words about our lateness, and Mother will fuss and fret, but that's all." Rhaenys gave her a reassuring smile, and, a moment later, her free hand was being grasped. "We won't be late long enough to earn any wrath, and they won't take it out on you. I'm the big bad corrupting sister, and you, the sweet little nestling."
Visenya huffed at that. "Nestling? What am I, a baby bird? I've been trained to fight and to hunt, I know sword and dagger, bow and crossbow. I could do better than many a man of the City Watch." Their quality was known to the North as poor, though the reason why eluded her — the more she thought of details betwixt the South and North, the more that seemed to occur.
That made Rhaenys laugh. "Not our Household Guard, puppy?"
The newest of her nicknames made her cheeks colour. Rickon was the pup. She was very nearly six and ten! "I know their quality. Mayhaps the newest, I could best. Perhaps. Not the veteran guardsmen. They'd have me on the ground quicker than I could draw a weapon."
Rhaenys nodded with that amused look of hers, and stood, bringing 'Senya up alongside her. "Only the finest of guardsmen for our safety," she finally gave Visenya a tug. "Now, let us give Ser Loras, Ser Jaime and that She-Bear of yours a good morrow."
Visenya was sat firmly betwixt Rhaenys and Aegon. The former had a hand upon her thigh which she allowed, whilst the latter looked between them with a mix of curiosity and surprise.
It felt natural and reassuring, especially under the watchful eyes of so, so many, to have Rhaenys’ touch.
Aegon's hand had slipped higher than to her knee, and he'd made a show thereafter of squeezing and pulling her closer to his side whenever they shared a jape, or he'd whisper some sort of praise in her ear.
She'd flush, and he'd chuckle, and Rhaenys would lean 'cross her, and join in.
The trio looked a perfect set, and the people seemed to take well to their little displays based on the crowd's reaction when the men below weren't fighting, and the only spectacle during such pauses were the Royals or the High Lords and Ladies.
They were the perfect image, she was told.
Yet, to her, what was far more interesting to peer at than any person, were the combatants below.
It was Dorne versus the Westerlands, and next, 'twould be the North versus the... hmm, she'd quite forgotten who her kin would face.
"Brother?" Visenya turned her head to him, and when his gaze found hers, she offered him a smile.
"Sister?" Aegon's eyes were full of joy upon being addressed, and his hand raised and hovered a moment, waiting for disapproval, before it went around the top of her chair.
She’d allow it so long as she could still shift around and he didn’t do as most men did with women they deemed available.
"Who's the next bout?"
"It's the North, and the Stormlands." Rhaenys, from her other side, answered helpfully. Her hand hadn’t so much as shifted from it’s spot, and she’d still yet to man-handle her.
She flushed at the word and the image it called forth of her siblings. After it was forced down, a faint smile formed on her lips, but when her gaze shifted, she saw that the people were watching them; their little interaction.
Visenya busied herself by looking at the cufflinks of Aegon's shirt, still, she need make a remark. "A queer pairing."
"Aye, but it should prove quite the spectacle."
"Indeed. The North has many a strong fighter, but they are not quick, and the Stormlanders are."
Aegon chuckled, and leaned forward. "The Stormlanders aren't oft considered swift, but compared to those Northern Knights or Lord Mormont, they are. It'll be a contest of endurance, I'd think."
Visenya raised her nose. "My cousin and the men fighting at his side will prove victorious."
Rhaenys jumped at her words. "A wager, then, little sister? The loser gives the winner a boon of their choice."
She paused. What did she have that they didn't?
"I can see the wheels turning in your head, 'Senya. No, it must be a boon we couldn't buy. Something personal." Rhaenys tapped at her shoulder.
Aegon looked between the girls with a strange, strange look on his face. "Ao tymagon iā nēdenka tymptir, mandia."
Visenya picked up on the word 'you' and 'sister' at the end, all else was lost to her, for she hadn't gotten nearly far enough along in her lessons to understand even the barest of meanings.
"I'll win." Visenya turned back toward the fight. "You'll both see."
Rhaenys simply smiled at her, as if she knew some secret of the Stormlanders her cousin would soon face off against. It gave her pause, but 'twas too late, the words had already left her mouth.
The two groups of men down below began to line up and finish adorning themselves with armour and swords and shields and helms.
Her gaze drifted from her cousin and kin, to the Stormlanders.
The Baratheons and their men were not lacking in skill, nor equipment, for their arms were well-built and their weapons sharpened, and compared to the Northmen, those involved seemed a decade older, on average.
She could see the difference as the pairs of men lined up and the crowd began to cheer and yell; the Stormlanders moved with little extra movement or need for words. Jorah and Robb had to speak and orient the men they'd brought along, for the Manderly Knights were all but unknown to her cousin, and Lord Bear. Much the same could likely be said of the Baratheon men — only Jorah was likely to know how they'd fight and what their greatest expertise were.
Those Stormlanders, however, had likely trained and fought alongside Northmen in that conflict most seemed very keen to avoid making any mention of.
Visenya leaned forward in her seat, and prayed to the Old Gods that the Northmen would prevail.
Visenya had risen from her seat and stood, her fists clenched and her face flush as the Stormlander took yet another Northman to the ground. The impact of his weapon against the Manderly Knight's chest was a loud, heavy sound, and the cheers and shouts of the crowd were deafening.
There were now but three Northmen remaining, two of which were Robb and Jorah, whilst the third was the greatest of the Manderly men, evidently. The Stormlanders, meanwhile, had five men still standing, and they'd shown no sign of slowing down or wearing from the day’s heat.
Her gaze drifted toward Rhaenys as a momentary lull in fighting made itself known, the men seeking a chance to catch their breath as the heat of the day and the exertion made it near impossible to breathe.
Her elder sister looked quite smug, and when the two made eye contact, the older Princess let out a laugh. "I can think of what I'd like from you, little sister."
"You haven't won yet." She said with a huff, but, a moment later, her head turned away. Rhaenys' odds of winning were too great for any bite to be placed in her words.
"We've not. That's true." Rhaenys leaned over the railing of the box and watched as the two groups began to fight anew. "I'm still looking forward to my prize, though."
Visenya rolled her eyes, but a few seconds later, she was back to watching the men fight.
Robb and the last Manderly man were fighting alongside one another against three others, whilst Jorah was being attacked by two men; Renly Baratheon, one of two Stormlander Lords left amongst the five from the very same kingdom, was making known his presence.
The Baratheon men weren't a force to be underestimated.
Visenya winced and let out a gasp when the Stormlander Lord hit her cousin, and the two fell to the ground; a grapple had started, and the crowd began to go mad.
The Manderly Knight intervened not, and made a false attack towards one Stormlander before going wide, his strike hitting a second. When the man fell to his knees, the Knight was quick to take advantage and knock the man from his feet with a swing of his shield.
That was all he was given time to do, for the next Baratheon was soon upon him; his work was for naught.
Her eyes darted back to Lord Bear when she heard the clang of metal striking metal; he'd been quick enough to avoid a blade, but, in doing so, had thrown himself back into the fray by way of the other man he was fighting.
His blade flashed, and the first of his opponents fell, the blade sending flying that of the Stormlander and causing the second's to glance off his armour and the shield he was so quick with.
Visenya took note of how Lord Jorah's movements were fluid and quick, and his attacks precise. When the second moved to strike at him, over-extended as he was, he used the other Stormlander's own momentum against him and pushed him into the other; the two tumbled, and Jorah's boot came down atop the second, a grunt sounding out as his weight fell.
The man would not rise again before Lord Jorah was on him.
It was three versus thre—
Visenya groaned.
The final Manderly had fallen in the time that'd passed since her attention was drawn elsewhere.
Three against three had very quickly turned back to two against three.
"Still confident, little sister?" Rhaenys was whispering in her ear, and a moment later, her head was resting on Visenya's shoulder.
"The North has never fallen. We won't lose today."
"We'll see." Rhaenys' hand wrapped around hers.
Visenya didn't make to rip it away, the little rubs upon the back of her own hand were too pleasant to banish, and again, Rhaenys wasn’t forcefully handling her. She was learning.
Aegon seemed just as pleased with their interaction, for the look on his face was one of a man content; like Robb after returning from a visit to Wintertown with his compeers, or the guardsmen when it was their day to eat with her uncle.
Down below, her cousin and his last companion drew back her gaze. They were side-by-side as they traded blows with the remaining Stormlanders; the latter consisted of two veterans, and youngest Baratheon.
"Aegon?" Visenya's eyes remained on the men as she awaited her brother's response.
"Mmm?" His gaze turned to her.
"Tell me the names of the others fighting down below? I don't know the Stormlander's faces."
"You recognise not the man you sang praises of?" Aegon snickered, and, when he was met with a frown from the two sisters, he relented. "One is Ser Swann, and the other, the formerly-exiled, Lord Jon Connington. Father'll likely insist you meet him soon." There was a distinct note of distaste in her brother's voice as he spoke the latter's name.
Visenya would have asked more, but the men were moving and swinging their blades, and a cry of pain sounded from the group; Jorah had taken a strike, and the youngest Baratheon had taken advantage and hit his shoulder again.
She was quick to look at him, but from the distance, she could only imagine Lord Jorah had a pained expression on his face as his strikes were growing more and more weak.
She let out a low-sounding whimper as her cousin was knocked to the ground by a blow from Ser Swann as Lord Connington parried his blade and made a faint attack to pull his attention away as the Baratheon Lord pushed back the kind Bear Lord; 'twas all but over.
She'd lost, and so too, had the North.
Visenya sunk back into her seat and made to fold her arms as Rhaenys' hand slipped free from hers.
"Do not be upset, sister." Rhaenys whispered into her ear.
"We're about to lose. How am I supposed to be happy?" She frowned and turned her head away from the girl.
Aegon tutted. "The Crownlands remain in the group melee. We've lost nothing."
Oh, 'twas right. Aegon, a Velaryon, a Celtigar and men close to the formermost had made it to the end so as to represent the Crownlands.
Each and every royal would be expected to cheer for their Household.
Visenya made to speak, but she stopped with nary the first half of a word said.
Lord Bear had 'stumbled' to his side and seemed nearly at the verge of defeat, a clear 'opening' in his defense as Robb was let up to step out after his defeat by Ser Swann and Lord Connington; Renly, a youth of an age not far from her cousin, was upon him in an instant.
Yet, he was slow, and, moreover, Jorah's form was good.
The Bear Lord's sword swept up and blocked the Baratheon's, his shield then crashing into the side of the young lord and causing him to tumble, his footing thrown. Before Connington or Swann could get to him, Jorah saw the weakness and made his move, his foot coming down on the Stormlander's chest as he made a strike to disarm the man and throw him off.
A cry sounded, and the sword flew from the youngest Baratheon brother’s hand; Renly was beaten.
And nary a moment later, Ser Jorah too was sent reeling, beaten and winded. Great as he was, the might and skill of the two before him was greater still.
The North had lost, and was now eliminated.
Worse still, she herself had lost her wager.
Gods.
She supposed she could avoid paying... mayhaps.
On the morrow, after Visenya had dressed with aid from Elia and 'Naerys, she found herself with an hour's time sans anything to do. Her lesson had finished at the usual time, with no small amount of progress; accusative, prepositional, and subordinating conjunctions... all of it was touched upon, and whilst Visenya considered herself intelligent, those conjunctions had made her head spin.
She'd need to practice that in the evening, perhaps write some sentences. Gods, the alphabet and script alike was so foreign to her.
"Dacey, Ser Loras, what was the missive? I've quite forgotten." Visenya had many a thought racing through her mind as of late; Robb's presence, Rhaenys', well, her being, then there was her Winter, and her Rickon, her lessons.
Too much, she thought.
"The Queen wishes you to join her in the wheelhouse when the sun reaches its peak." Dacey smiled at her, and, a moment later, patted the head of the wolf beside her. "You've some time before then, Princess."
That second sentence confirmed what Visenya had nearly been ready to inquire about. "A walk in the Godswood? Will that be alright?"
"Aye, Your Grace." Dacey gave her a nod and a smile. "Ser Loras and I'll have your back."
"Then 'tis settled." Visenya clapped her hands and walked between the pair, Winter quick on her heels. "Let us away!"
Visenya could feel the eyes on her and Winter both as the two walked with their many guards at their flanks and heels.
No courtier, be it Lord, Lady or Lordling, would approach her as such. Seldom was the chance given for them to do so much as look at her, let alone speak. She'd have avoided most, and the few that'd look her way would be greeted by nary more than a cool visage. No smiles would be sent, for no false invitation would be given.
"It seems you won't be the only one in the Godswood this midday's time." Dacey was making mention of the two Stark men by the entrance.
Their presence very likely meant that Robb was inside, and the sight of him and a chance to speak and be with her cousin were both most enticing.
For a scant few seconds' time, she thought back to her agreement with her siblings. They desired not for her to speak with Robb or spend any amount of time with him with no other to watch over them; guards would always be present, she knew as much, but they desired another Royal to be there.
None could order a Princess save for the Crown Prince, or the King, as one could imagine.
She would be breaking the rules, and yet... she wanted to see Robb.
"Princess?" Ser Loras' hand went to the pommel of his sword in rest. "Would you like the Starks to be sent away until you've had your walk?"
Visenya shook her head as soon as her Knight was finished speaking. "No, not at all." She smiled up at the man and her gaze met his. "I should like to greet my cousin."
Loras looked between her and Dacey, the latter having a smile on her face.
The former very clearly thought that a poor idea, and Dacey, well, her thoughts were very likely the same as Visenya's own.
"Now with me, Ser Loras, Dacey." Visenya gave a few taps at her hip too for Winter's sake. The wolf perked up and was quick to follow, and the three moved closer to the two Starks.
"Good men of House Stark." She offered the pair a curtsey and a smile, laying it on thick in hopes of jesting with them; Winterfell men as they were, she recognised the both of them — Heward and Wyl. "How fare you?”
The men had been in the midst of speaking and sharing a jape, but when the trio approached, the two turned, and they went wide of eye as they took in the newest arrivals. Each gave a jerky bow, and made to speak in reply, but the pair stumbled over one another's words. They stopped when they were met with her laughter as she raised a hand for the pair's sake.
"Peace, peace. I simply wished to know your state, and offer a greeting." Visenya nodded toward the Godswood's entrance. "I keep to the Old Gods same as you, good men, don’t you remember?” she gave a nod past them. “I should hope my cousin Robb's spoken of me."
Had he kept his thoughts wholly to himself?
The older man's face grew warm. "I've heard of the late Lady Lyanna's daughter, Princess... you have 'er likeness, if it's not too bold t'say."
Visenya offered him a smile. "Thank you, ser. It warms my heart to hear such a thing.” She gave a little wave to the younger guard, the man fresh from boyhood and seemingly too shy to speak. "I won't bother you any longer, good men. I must away to the Godswood. Mayhaps we'll speak again, ere long."
The older of the two gave a short bow, the other mirroring his movement a moment later. "We'll keep 'yer safe, Yer Grace."
"I trust in you and your companion, good men." She smiled at them, and, when they made to bow, Visenya was quick to offer a shake of her head and a wave of her hand. "No more bows, I've had plenty."
With that said, the group moved into the Godswood, her cousin's men left behind.
"Winter!"
She and Winter both perked up at the sound, and her head darted to and fro.
"Cousin!" Visenya smiled at him as he emerged from behind a tree. "How fare you, and what brings you here?"
Robb made to pull her into an embrace, when first he saw her; mayhaps it was the Godswood, the pups at their feet or a simple second's time of forgetfulness, but he realised his error quickly enough, and came to a stumbling stop, his cheeks growing red. "I was... ah, 'tis not important. I'm well, cousin." Her cousin's face went redder still, and his gaze averted. "How fare you, Princess?"
"Better now that we're speaking. I miss speaking with you." Visenya stepped a pace closer.
Robb's smile grew wider, and the young boy that he was looked at her with a strange gleam in his eyes. "I'd hoped you'd come... I don’t want to intrude." There was much more he seemed to desire to say, but with Ser Loras' presence, her cousin seemed hesitant.
She thought that smart, even if she rather liked the good young knight.
Even she'd not freely share her inner-thoughts or other such things with a Kingsguard. Not if she desired it be kept wholly secret, for they would most certainly tell Mother and Father if she did something they'd dislike. 'Twas their job, she couldn't begrudge them that — even this little happenstance would likely be heard of by the whole of her family come evening.
"I'd hoped to see you too, cousin. I've been told you've been quite the busy man." She reached out and took his hands into her own. "Will you pray with me? I confess, I don't go nearly as oft as I used to."
Robb looked over her shoulders. "You sure, Princess?"
"Yes." She squeezed his hand. "Stay." Visenya dropped it then, when she imagined Robb wouldn't leave her.
She moved closer and knelt, and, a moment later, felt him beside her.
The two were quiet, and Visenya found herself quite content as she focused on the relative silence the Godswood gave. She didn't know what her cousin was praying for, nor did she have the slightest idea of what her own thoughts would yearn for.
She could think of nothing, and so she was still for a few seconds' time, enjoying the gentle, rolling breeze and the noises of birds that passed over or stopped in the myriad of trees. When a leaf fell from above, and landed at her knees, she was quick to pick it up and admire its colouring and shape; it was more lush a green than she'd ever seen, yet the shape was near-identical to the Northern woods.
How queer, the differences nature held.
Visenya let the leaf go then, and watched it drift away, the breeze catching it and taking the leaf further afield; she rose then, and looked down at Robb.
When she saw him peering back at her, she gave a little motion of her fingers. He needn't wait for her to rise... well, were it up to her, he wouldn't.
Robb rose soon enough, and dusted himself off. "What was the leaf for?"
"Just something that caught my eye." Visenya smiled. "Walk with m— Winter, Grey Wind!" She was cut-off when the pair of Direwolf pups bounded out from a bush and towards her cousin, the two nearly leaping onto him. "Careful."
The pair regarded her for a second, before they went back to their frolicking, her Winter all but prancing with a stick in his mouth.
"They've gotten larger in naught but the time I've been here, I swear it." Robb was stroking the head of Grey Wind, the pup licking at his palm.
"I'll owe you for a very long time — A Direwolf." Visenya called Winter and beckoned him close, her fingers stroking his ears and chin as she continued speaking to her cousin, the pair only taking slow steps towards one another — she'd see his arm linked through one of hers come soon enough. "He's a sweet thing, and strong. I adore him."
"The Princess and her Direwolf." Robb smiled. "Maybe you'll be able to ride him once he's grown."
Visenya huffed and stood fully, folding her arms at Robb and glaring at him; there was no real malice behind it. "And here I was thinking that never again would I be teased about my size."
"Some things shouldn't be changed." Her cousin had a smirk on his face.
"Oh, I've no doubt about that." She rolled her eyes. "Now, come with me." Visenya saw his eyes widen for a sliver of a second; she winced.
Her tone had carried with it a certain command and strength, a Targaryen trait that'd begun to emerge in recent times.
Yet, Robb, her good kind... cousin handled it well.
He took a step closer, and her arm slipped through his own, her fingers squeezing the crook of his elbow.
In an instant, she saw them off, taking slow, measured steps with a sense of happiness about her; only Rickon's presence — and that of 'his' pup — would've made the moment merrier.
"I cheered for you yester eve." Visenya said such words whilst her eye tracked a black and yellow bee with fuzz around its wings as it moved from flower to flower, a bright red and purple petal the prize.
"Really?" He sounded surprised, and his eyes turned to her.
She looked at him, a little frown forming on her face. "Of course. You're my cousin, Robb, why wouldn't I cheer for you?"
Robb opened his mouth, but she saw hesitation in his eyes and the slight parting of his lips; he seemed to think better of whatever he was going to say, at least initially, for eventually, he did speak; he thought himself a poor swordsman... but those men were much older, 'twas a testament to his strength and resilience that he'd lasted so long against them.
"Nonsense." Visenya was quick to shake her head, and the frown was replaced with a smile. "You fought well. I'd not have lasted against them."
Robb tried to look serious, but she saw a little smile peeking out from his lips. "My thanks, Princess. It gladdens me to hear."
"As it should." She was grinning now. "I wouldn't lie."
"You'd never." Robb chuckled. "I can't recall the last time we spent any amount of time together…Princess."
Visenya bit the inside of her cheek. Gods, how she wished she could hug him... but just this time with him — and the few others present — was likely to make issue enough later, she didn't need to give her family more cause to keep the two apart.
"It's been too long, I agree." She squeezed his arm and looked ahead, seeing the exit of the Godswood.
Her heart ached then, and she turned back, a small smile forming on her face.
"I should return." Visenya was loath to do so, but it was best. She nearly gave the reason why too; that being that Aegon was soon to compete in the team melee... but when she thought of Robb having been eliminated, Visenya found it wiser to say not a word. "Mayhaps we'll share another meal come soon. Aegon said you and he had some talks."
"Aye, we did." Robb looked away, and gradually withdrew from her the nearer they grew to the Godswood's edge.
Visenya felt her smile falter at that.
Was her brother not treating him well? Had words been shared similar to that which Aegon and Rhaenys had with her?
Or was she overthinking it?
She shook her head, and stepped away, Dacey and Ser Loras going to her flanks as she bid her cousin farewell.
Visenya truly hoped he was getting on with Aegon; time would tell, and if her brother by blood was acting wrong, she’d intercede.
Chapter 19: Just us
Notes:
Here's our second update for the month, and as always, thank you very much for all of the lovely comments -- I love responding to each and every one of you!
Note wise, writing has started on Chapter 38 out of 45 with edits up to 26 being worked on; thank you very much again, and have a lovely rest of your month and start to July!
Chapter Text
Visenya leaned back atop the rich and ever-so-soft cushion her seat provided, and gave a sigh as she took in the sight of the others gathered 'round her whilst they awaited Aegon's bout in the arena's centre below.
'Twas to be the first of two days in a row in which he'd fight... so long as he won.
That was a foregone conclusion, Visenya thought.
Her brother would win and continue fighting in the group melee, especially when one considered the other men on his team; Aurane Solaryon — a Velaryon bastard who’d founded a house, she remembered having been told — Sers Aemon and Jonothor of the Kingsguard, Ser Balegor Celtigar, Ser Jaryd Rykker, and finally, Ser Trevyr Sunglass.
So far as she'd been told, all were men of renown, with 'skirmishes' or flat-out warfare under their belts.
"Sister." Rhaenys was nudging her side and pointing toward the balcony upon which their seats were; below, and, when Visenya's eyes followed as she sat well-up in her seat, she saw the teams lining-up, and her brother amongst them. "Nary another few speeches to go 'til Father gives the word for them to begin. Look at Aegon, how handsome he is in Father's style of armour!"
Visenya rolled her eyes, but a small smile appeared on her face nonetheless; her sister had a point, but the words she'd said were not the ones she'd ever had said aloud herself.
No.
Rhaenys may have stolen a kiss, and queer as the feelings were that came with the memory, little change had truly happened.
There was no great awakening of inappropriate desires towards either of her siblings, no rush of warmth that she'd heard from Dacey's sisters, or a sudden change in the way she looked at them; well, the last bit wasn't entirely true. A doubt had formed that persisted when her gaze settled on them for too long, a nervousness too, given the pair hadn't said anything more about her time spent 'alone' with Robb in the Godswood.
She hadn't a doubt they knew, yet, neither had made mention, and Visenya hadn't the courage to bring it up. Not if they were fine with allowing it to go unmentioned.
"Princess?" The voice was that of Tyene. As could oft be said, she'd been looking at Visenya since first they'd seen one another in the wheelhouse that'd seen them to their current place. "How do you think the Crownlanders will fare against the men of the Stormlands?"
"Quite well." Visenya smiled, her gaze drifting down to her brother and his team; the Celtigar and Velaryon on either side of him reminded her of the tales one could find a plethora of in the library. "Two Kingsguard and Aegon alone is a formidable force, and though I know not of the other men or their capabilities, I have no doubts that they'll prove themselves a great challenge for the Stormlords."
It may sound as if she were singing the praise of the Crownlanders beyond what was due, but in truth, Visenya sought revenge for the Stormlords beating of Robb and the Northmen; it should've been Robb's chance for glory in taking on Aegon.
Gods, how glorious would that have been to see?
"I agree." Tyene was smiling, and slowly, the pale girl was scooting closer as she pulled forth a pair of wine glasses; Visenya's eyes couldn't help but linger on the one she made to extend her way.
Comments of Tyene's poison knowledge had been shared, and whilst she was curious of the other girl, she was also hesitant to take the cup and drink, no matter how sweet the red smelled or Tyene's expression appeared.
"Princess, I promise, 'tis not poisoned." Tyene smiled and pressed it closer, her free hand moving to clasp Visenya's. "I'd never hurt you."
Visenya's brows knit and her cheeks warmed. "I... ah, thank you."
Rhaenys' laugh at her other side, and Nymeria's from a few seats over didn't help matters. "You're welcome, Princess."
"Are you giving my little sister reason to worry, Tyene?" Rhaenys' smile was wide as she looked past Visenya, a single finger pointing toward the blonde. "I'll not have you upsetting her."
Tyene's face fell into a mock sadness. "My apologies, Princess. I'd not have done so knowingly."
"It's no bother." Visenya was quick to reassure her, her hand reaching out and squeezing the blonde's; their teasing had made its point well enough. She supposed such a worry was a touch too stupid.
Tyene's smile grew, and finally, she was close enough that their knees were brushing; save for her family, be them Northern or Southern, very, very few had touched her. The Dornish girl's boldness matched what she'd learned of the people and their culture, and whilst the contact was new, it wasn't unpleasant. There was a sense of closeness she didn’t mind, and if a friendship could be formed, that worked well enough for her.
Until she thought of how Rhaenys had been, and what she'd seen with Aegon.
Mayhaps it wasn't just her that'd experienced Rhaenys' lips pressed against her own.
The thought didn't please her.
"Princess?" She felt a finger brush her cheek.
Her eyes darted toward Tyene. "Hm?"
"Your cheeks are red. Are you alright?" Tyene's expression was that of concern.
Rhaenys answered for her. "Dornish red might be too much for my sweet little puppy."
"Dragon!" Daenerys' voice called from the conversation she'd been having some few tables over, with Lord Monford, Lord Velaryon and their kin; she went back to whatever she was conversing of soon enough.
Visenya was happy that the attention had gone away from her, and the blush began to fade; it didn't take long for her thoughts to return to the happenings between her and Rhaenys when her sister shifted alongside her, one arm coming 'round her in a manner most possessive.
"I'll keep an eye on her, Tyene." Rhaenys said such words as if the two were sharing a secret.
"Of course, Princess." The Dornish girl seemed contented with her sister's words, and, as soon as Visenya could, her gaze was cast back down toward the team of Stormlords who'd entered the arena's grounds; she could only just see their helmets shining in the sunlight, the men themselves near-indistinguishable given her poor choice of seating.
“Would you like to move forth, little sister?” Rhaenys asked, her hand giving a gentle stroke along Visenya’s shoulder and upper arm. Her sister was ever so touchy, though far less forceful or encircling.
“Not yet. I’d not sit in the sun a moment longer than necessary, lest the heat and bright light give me a headache... I’ll never be fond of the warmth. Not the way you and ‘Naerys are, or even Aegon, I suspect. My blood is too thick for such a climate, I think. Too Northern."
“Does that mean you’ll not visit Dorne, then?” Nymeria was the one to ask the question, and with the queerest of glances sent her sister’s way.
Tyene, for her part, was quite silent.
"I didn't say such a thing." Visenya shook her head, and tried to offer the blonde girl a reassuring smile. "Aegon and Rhaenys will see me dragged there, if need be. I only doubt I’ll spend much time outside of whichever chambers I have assigned to me."
Rhaenys ran a hand through her hair. "That'd be a waste. We’ve the Water Gardens, the sea, oasis’ and food prepared by those who know how to make use of the many spices and herbs known to us. I'll make sure you experience it all, little sister.”
“I believe I said I’ll pass when it comes to the Water Gardens — you’ve mentioned them before, and they seem pleasant enough, but I fear the amount of… people present.” A fine navigating of such an odd situation. “And the food is entirely too spicy. I’d melt.” A bit of levity would help too, right?
Tyene and Nymeria shared a look, then giggles, as Rhaenys laughed beside her.
"Is there something amiss?" Visenya had her answer, when her gaze met that of Tyene.
The blonde girl was smirking, her finger moving along the rim of her glass. "The Water Gardens aren't filled with nude bodies, Princess. Children run naked, and us women often swim in our smallclothes if we can sneak a swim, but 'tis nothing too obscene."
"I thought… I’d heard… nevermind." Her cheeks reddened, and a little scowl formed on her face.
“My little sister is the epitome of innocence, girls. You must forgive her assumptions — though, I think she looks the part, don't you?"
Visenya was sure that Tyene was about to say something, the blonde girl opening her mouth and beginning to lean in closer, but before she could hear whatever was said, a great roar sounded, and cheers rang out throughout the arena.
"That'd be Father's signal." Visenya was relieved, her eyes darting toward the balcony he was upon, seeing the King rising and gesturing.
She didn't hear his speech, not over the sounds of the crowd, but, judging from the fact that the men in the centre were drawing their weapons, the fight was to begin soon.
Visenya took a sip from the glass Tyene had offered, her eyes lingering on the pale girl's lips, which were coated with red wine, for a moment too long.
She averted her gaze a second later, and made to rise when she caught Mother’s gaze; her searching look was all the prompting Visenya needed.
"Come, little sister. I'll take you over." Rhaenys rose then, and extended her hand. "Cousins? You’ll sit nearby, won’t you? We’ll need your expertise with Aegon no longer by our side.”
Tyene nodded and rose with Nymeria, and the four were soon making their way across the seating and toward the stairs leading to the King and Queen; Daenerys had gone off to sit with the Velaryons near to them.
"Father, Mother." She was soon stood beside the pair, and curtsied.
The pair turned, and smiles were given in greeting.
"Visenya, Rhaenys." Father said before he gave a nod to Nymeria and Tyene.
"My sweet girls." Mother had a hand at her waist and pulled her in for the quickest of hugs. "Come to finally join us? Have you been enjoying yourselves?”
"Yes, Mother." Rhaenys and herself said together.
Visenya moved to sit, and soon enough, she was beside her mother and Rhaenys; Nymeria and Tyene were seated not too far from them, while Daenerys’ seat and Aegon’s both, were empty.
"I saw the pair of you sitting with little Oberyn’s girls. Are you becoming friends with them, sweetling?" Mother had her arm draped over her shoulder, and her fingers were stroking along her the many strands of hair bundled together.
"Aye, Mother. They're good company."
"They’re lovely." Rhaenys spoke in the defense of her cousins, not that it was needed; Tyene might be a touch focused on her, but ‘twas true enough that neither seemed hostile or rude. Quite the opposite, she thought.
Visenya felt Mother squeeze her as she was looking at the arena; below, and in the centre, the teams had begun to shift about, and the men had begun to advance toward one another, with their shields raised and weapons drawn.
"Visenya,” Father called for her, and she was soon looking at him. He had a hand at the stubble that lined much of the lower half of his face, and was scratching his chin. "I’d like to have you sup with Elia and I this eve — would you be agreeable?”
He always had so soft and light a voice when speaking with her. It’d persisted since first they’d met, and no matter the time, nor the circumstances, her Father seemed a gentle and caring soul… towards the family; with others, he was kind but distant, or in the case of criminals — or her Uncle… Eddard — wrathful and without any hint of fondness in his gaze.
"Yes, Father. It'd be my pleasure."
"Good. Good." His lips were pulled into a smile, and he gave a little nod. “I’d have my youngest with me, after having missed her for so long.”
Visenya sent him a smile as the clashing of steel and the grunts of exertion reached her ears.
When she turned, she saw that the fighting had begun; the centre was a cluster, but the men were moving about one another, the Kingsguard and Aegon in the thickest, and already pushing back the three men closest.
"Your brother fights well, does he not?" Mother asked, her fingers continuing to stroke through Visenya's hair.
"He does." Her words were spoken without much thought, the praise coming from the memories of when she’d faced him, and of when he’d stood in her stead against Ser Cletus. “Finer than most any other I’ve seen fight."
Mother hummed. "He’s more fond of it than Rhaegar — your father’s a lover with a voice of the most beautiful kind.”
Father, who’d seemed very intent on watching the fighting, turned and shot Elia a look of fond amusement. “I can recall many a happy night with you and my harp, and songs sung into the early hours of the morn, my love. You gave me many a reason to return from the yard early."
Visenya bit the inside of her cheek and kept her eyes on the fighting as her parents spoke so openly of their affection.
Aegon had 'felled one man', and the Kingsguard were keeping to his flanks, ensuring no Stormlander strike at him as he dispatched one of the younger men of Lord Renly's team.
"And I, you." Mother said. "We had many good years, Rhaegar."
She only caught a faint laughter from her father. "We'll have many more."
That earned a coo from the Dornish girls at her back, and a happy sigh from Rhaenys; Visenya side-eyed her parents for a second's time, 'til she saw how close their faces were. Her Uncle and Catelyn weren’t half as close as this, at least not in the public-eye.
When the crowd cheered, her face heated as she looked away.
A glance revealed her brother and the Kingsguard had pushed the Stormlord's back, and had surrounded them; Sers Aemon and Jonothor were engaged in fighting a man who wielded a hammer, whilst the Celtigar dashed forth to block a blow that'd most surely have seen the Ser Trevyr taken out of the contest.
As it was, there were still six Crownlanders to fiv— now four, Stormlanders, after the two Kingsguard had dispatched the man they'd cornered.
"Aegon is doing well, isn't he, little sister?"
"Yes. Yes, he is." Visenya didn't tear her eyes away from the fighting to answer her sister; nary a thing in the world could make her look away now, as the Crownlanders mounted an offensive against the Stormlanders, of whom were now noticeably weaker in numbers. "As are the Kingsguard. They see Aegon kept exceedingly safe."
She didn't recall so much as one blow landing upon her brother, and the few strikes that'd come close were intercepted or parried, allowing him to launch forth just as he'd done to her; Aegon was amongst the swiftest of men she'd seen — she’d still best him atop a horse.
"Ser Aemon and Ser Jonothor are exceptional, and the others no less so. Father counts them amongst the finest men in the Kingdom, by deeds and by sword." Rhaenys, from what Visenya could recall, had the right to brag about the men; 'uneducated' as she might be in many a subject, even the North knew of the men that kept safe the Royal family in this age.
Others that’d served House Targaryen hadn't been free of a scandal or two per monarch, but this one truly seemed the finest history could ever hope to see.
Visenya made to say as much, hoping the others near to her, like Ser Loras or Prince Lewyn, would hear her genuine compliments. Her mouth was only just opening to do just that when the Sunglass man fell, and the Celtigar struck down the man that'd done the deed.
The cheers were loud, and the crowd roared for the action.
She could see another man waving at the Baratheon banner nearby, rolling his head to one side so as to speak with the brunette woman seated at his flank. He was old and gray of hair for the most part, with a receding hairline and only a small, pleasant smile on his face. Visenya imagined it came from the two boys and the girs that sat 'round him and his lady.
"Lord Stannis. Our Uncle, Mother and Father have us call him." Rhaenys answered her question before she'd so much as thought to have asked it, and so she brought her eyes back to her sister, away from the fighting and other Lords in the higher seats that surrounded them.
"He was Robert's right-hand, was he not?" She recalled such a name mentioned in passing when discussing the war.
Rhaenys nodded. "He was among the most loyal of the lot. He was the one to hold Storm's End through the rebellion, and the one to send ravens and ask for peace when Father ended the war by killing his brother."
"The man's content in life. The only smiles he sends are to his wife, or his children, it’s said." Nymeria's words came from Visenya's rear, the girl seemingly leaning forward.
Rhaenys hummed in agreement. "A cause for Renly's dislike of him — Father would say he does his duty."
"The brothers aren't fond of one another?" Visenya didn't know them well, and hadn't been paying attention to them, but 'twas odd after all she'd heard her Uncle Eddard say.
"Renly's fond of many things." Rhaenys laughed. "Stannis, however, is not among them. There's no love lost, and they're as different as night and day."
That was so unbelievably queer to her.
Visenya would make note of it for later, for another flurry of yells from the crowd and clash of swords stole her attention.
Her eyes darted back to the fight, and what she saw had her heart in her throat.
Aegon had dove toward a Stormlord who was locked in combat with one of the Kingsguard, and whilst that left open his flank for attack from another, the second Kingsguard — Ser Jonothor, based on the bulk — was quick to move and cover his open side, and allow him the opportunity to strike at his opponent while the other Kingsguard saw Aegon's attacker stumbling back.
The Celtigar, who was standing nearby and watching, nay, waiting, made use of the distraction provided by the latter Kingsguard to dash forward and land a blow upon the man.
Visenya's hands gripped the chair beneath her, and she leaned forward as she saw yet another man of the Stormlands fall; he signalled defeat soon after the blow was delivered.
There were only two Stormlanders left standing, and five Crownlanders; the Rykker and Sunglass had each fallen for the Crownlanders.
‘Twas all but impossible now, for the Stormlanders to eek out a victory, and the cheers of the crowd showed that was clear enough as they took to calls for Aegon.
In armour that was very like that which her father was said to have worn, her brother and his teammates were a fine sight.
The Stormlanders were clad in mail that was darkened, and wore helms with horns and barbets, the latter a type of face protection, but it wasn’t enough — no amount of armour could make up the difference in skill the two groups of men had; Ser Barristan having participated might, but ‘Naerys had said all he desired was the lists.
He said himself beyond the yearning for glory in anything else, and Visenya would believe him. She’d heard of his many deeds, and knew of his desire to spend his remaining years with the Royal family in a time of peace.
Such was rare enough in this Kingdom of theirs. She supposed it was her twin that’d convinced him to ride in the first place.
As Aegon bore down on one of the final men, Visenya rose from her seat, and set her hands on the rail of the balcony, leaning forward and watching, waiting for the final man to fall.
The Crownlanders would fight on the morrow, against the winner of the Dornish and Reachmen match; one Visenya personally thought the Reach was destined to win, given their number to draw from and the men she knew called home said lands, but 'twas not the time to think of that, for Aegon and the three remaining Crownlanders finished the match.
Those that’d been taken out rejoined their number still in the arena as they were proclaimed the winners, and the King made a gesture from his seat, causing the crowd to roar.
She imagined the fact that it was the Kingsguard and Aegon that’d been participating — and that’d won — against the formerly rebellious houses made for a message.
One look back to the older man she'd spied before, the current head of the Baratheons, saw no sign of annoyance or displeasure on his face.
He was, to her surprise, smiling, and had an arm wrapped around the woman at his side as he spoke to the older of the two boys. This Lord Stannis looked every inch the happy father, and the Lady Baratheon was smiling alongside him, her eyes watching the scene.
Visenya looked back down to the victorious Crownlanders, Rhaenys’ voice only just registering as she spoke to her cousins whilst the men moved to the nearest exit to where Visenya and the rest of the Targaryens present were seated.
Aegon seemed intent on returning to them post-haste, the many smallfolk who called to him or lesser nobility who tried to reach him met with a shake of his head and a polite, if hurried, wave.
As he vanished from sight, swallowed by stone walls and the crowd, her mind drifted… for a scant few seconds before it was called back.
“Would you agree, little sister?” Rhaenys was speaking, and her hand was at her shoulder.
"Hmm?" Visenya felt herself flush as her sisters lips drew up into a knowing smile, the expression growing.
"You were so focused, little sister." Her head tilted, and her fingers were at Visenya's cheek, brushing through the loose hair there. "Nymeria and Tyene agreed with me when I made claim that Dorne will prove victorious this eve. Do you?”
Visenya was quiet for a moment. “Ser Loras and his brother, Ser Garlan, will both be participating. Isn’t that right, Ser Loras?” She looked to her right, where her knight was stood.
He smiled, and gave a nod. "It is, Princess.” There seemed a grin on his face as she spoke in favour of the Reach’s odds.
“He is not the only one — our father is one of Dorne’s seven.” Nymeria’s pride was evident in her voice.
"Lord Anders is another. He’s far superior to his son.” Tyene said. The blonde girl then looked over to Visenya, and offered a smile. "No offense to Ser Loras, Princess, or you.”
Visenya shook her head. "Confidence can hardly be offensive.” She tried her best to sound courtly and kind, and judging from the way her sister nodded, she thought she'd done well. “I tho—“
Aegon appeared in the archway at the far side, his face red with beads of sweat running down his cheeks, and a big smile upon his face even as his chest heaved; with how fast he’d returned, and being the only one there, it seemed as if he’d run the whole way.
She blinked, and made to grab for a cloth with water — one she’d requested for the day’s heat — as he grew near enough for the others to see what’d stopped her mid-sentence.
The others around her were quick to speak praise to him; Mother and Father turned and rose from their seats, with Mother offering him a hug, and Father a clap on the back, neither caring for the sweat or wetness of his clothing.
"A fine victory." Father said. "Once again, you make me proud, son."
"Thank you, Father."
Visenya caught his eye over their shoulders, and she gave him a smile and nod.
"Come, brother." Rhaenys pulled on him once Mother and Father had parted some few steps away. "Let Visenya and I help you clean up. We can't have the future King smelling or growing sun sick."
He laughed, and allowed the pair of them to take him by the arms. "We can't have that."
As they lead him to the back of one of the rear chambers, Visenya could hear the Dornish and Reachmen taking to their spots — with Aegon's Kingsguard back, Ser Loras bid her a farewell and went off to join his team; she was very eager to see how he'd do, and if her assumptions of his quality were true.
"I'll be the envy of all." Aegon said as Rhaenys pushed him atop a cushion. "The two most beautiful women in the realm, and they're to see to me after a victory all had seen."
Rhaenys let out a laugh, and Visenya found herself shaking her head, the corners of her lips turning up.
That trip back to Maegor’s Holdfast went as any other, with Father and Aegon riding ahead with some of the men, whilst Visenya and the other women rode in a ‘small’ wheelhouse.
She’d washed the day’s dust and grime off of her skin and hair, soaked in hot water filled with sweet oils, and donned a dress that was a fine mixture of both Dornish and Northern design — Rhaenys and Mother had taken it upon themselves to see to her wardrobe.
Visenya had a feeling her mother and sister were attempting to mould her into a more Southron, courtly woman, but the dresses and styles weren't so bad, and the few that had come from the North had been the most comfortable she'd worn — it was like they’d demanded the greatest of qualities and greatest quality furs, coin be damned
Briefly, her eyes moved from the looking glass, to the balcony of her chambers. With the moon above shining and the stars dotting the night sky, her mind began to wander, and her gaze followed soon after.
Outside, and beyond the stone walls, the sea was a calm, almost placid surface. The waves that washed along the shore were little more than slight swells.
A sigh left her.
This place was beautiful. She'd seen enough on her journey south to recognize that, and the stench that’d been so prominent had begun to lessen — apparently another new section of sewer had been opened; she heard Father meant to see the entire system expanded and improved.
"Princess," A voice reached her, and she turned. She’d quite forgotten Dacey was still there — her Sworn Shield had also taken to aiding her in brushing her hair or seeing her dressed; she didn’t desire a serving maid when a woman already quite sisterly could do the tasks. "Aren’t you to sup with the King and Queen this evening? You shouldn't dally."
"You're correct." Visenya sighed and stepped toward her, gesturing to the baubles needed to braid her hair.
“It’s very beautiful, flowing loose.” Dacey’s words, suddenly said, gave her pause, and she looked to her sworn shield.
The older girl dipped her head. “Sorry. I… still see the girl I spent no small amount of time with when looking upon you. Forgive me if I've spoken out of turn, Princess.”
With three steps, Visenya saw herself standing in front of the woman. "You have nothing to apologise for." She took one large, pale hand into the both of hers, and gave a gentle squeeze. "My friend is welcome to speak as freely as she likes. If you've a thought, or an opinion, please don't keep it from me."
Dacey looked up from the floor, and her eyes caught Visenya's violet own. She offered a small smile, then gestured towards the door — as the both of them made to move, she gave answer to Visenya's words. "As my Princess commands."
A short while later, Visenya found herself coming to a stop outside the King's quarters, Ser Loras and Dacey just behind her.
"Princess," One of the men standing guard stepped forward. "Your presence is expected within." He bowed his head and opened the door.
"Thank you, Ser." She returned his bow and entered, the room still as new to her as the last time she'd been here.
"Our Visenya." Father's voice was the first to reach her ears.
Visenya saw that, like her, Mother and Father had been on the balcony.
"Father." She made her way toward him and the Queen, a hand resting on his arm and her lips brushing against his stubble-covered cheek as they exchanged a quick embrace. "Mother."
"It's good to see you, dear." Elia said, a hand raising to cup her cheek. "I imagine the day's gone well?"
Visenya hummed and stepped to her side, a kiss pressing into her cheek. "It has — Aegon is very talented, and Lord Oberyn's girls are very kind."
Elia laughed, her eyes darting to Father. "Sweeter than honey, isn't she?"
"She is." Father's agreement came without hesitation.
Before Visenya could question their amusement, Mother spoke again. "I know my nieces — you need only say if they're bothersome. That goes for Rhaenys too. We know she's been... a touch overwhelming. We just didn’t wish to intercede unless you asked."
Visenya didn't think that was necessary, their intercession.
Not after the recent conversations, at least.
"There's no need for that, Mother. Not one's been anything but polite." Visenya would say the opposite, if anything; they'd been very polite.
Elia hummed, but seemed satisfied. "Then let us revisit the day’s bout of importance — you watched it very closely. I recall the way you and your sister's faces lit up when the Crownlands won."
The answer Visenya gave was genuine. "After the North were defeated, seeing Aegon and the Kingsguard prove victorious was a cause for much cheer."
"And you'll see him win tomorrow." Father's words came out as a statement, with no small amount of pride evident in his voice.
The confidence in Aegon wasn't too surprising; a Crown Prince should be talented with blade, and she knew first-hand he was more than proficient. Two Kingsguard at his back, and other knights worthy of the honour of fighting by a Prince's side?
It should be a fight all but guaranteed.
"Table, dear?" Elia's question was directed to Father as she rose from her seat.
He nodded and stood, and together, the pair sandwiched Visenya as they made their way over to a table meant for smaller, intimate meals.
As the trio sat, two servants came forward to set dishes, cutlery and plates out, alongside a jug of wine and three glasses.
Visenya waited until they'd left before speaking, a smile on her face and a spark of something akin to joy in her breast; it felt so guiltily good, being at the centre of attention of her sire and a woman who'd claimed her as a daughter — one Visenya would happily accept as her maternal figure. "It's only us? Truly?"
Her Father's smile was knowing, and Mother's was sweet, her lips curling upward and her dark eyes warm and caring. "Only us. We desire a chance to sup with our youngest alone — Aegon and Rhaenys likely welcome the peace, and little Daenerys is busy with House Velaryon.”
Father huffed at the end of Elia’s words. “She’s grown too fast.” His eyes went to her as Mother laughed. “You’ll stay a youth, innocent and sweet for a good while, won’t you?”
“Lyanna would slap you for trying to keep our ‘Senya tame.” Elia chastised, but the smile on her face told of her jest.
Her father’s smile turned reminiscent, and defeated. “You can’t blame a man for hoping."
Visenya, despite her best attempts, couldn't stop her own smile. "I don’t believe I’ll grow much more, and I feel no great haste to be wed.” She could say such words not only to seek out a smile from Father, but also to put out her thoughts.
She’d marry one day, but not come soon.
Not if she had any say in the matter… which Princesses seldom did.
"There is no rush." Elia agreed. "No rush at all." Her gaze went to Father as she said such words, but quick and purposeful as Visenya thought the look to be, it was gone swiftly as it’d come. “But… you’d make a very beautiful bride. I yearn and loathe the day we pick what gown you’ll wear for your wedding.”
“You’re not the only one.” Father had a different edge to his words; like he was faraway, and years beyond his actual age.
His smile, however, was warm as ever it was when he looked upon her — she could hardly believe the King and Queen could be so happy by naught but her existence.
Such happiness had her own smile widening.
A clink of glass drew her attention to the other end of the table, where Father was filling three glasses with wine of some make. As he slid the glass before her, he spoke again. "Tell me, my Visenya, do your High Valyrian lessons go well? Does the tutor I've chosen please you?"
"It's challenging, but Vaella is kind and soft-spoken, and very intelligent." Visenya then furrowed her brows as she made to recollect a phrase she'd most fiercely wished to learn. "Gaomas bisa kostilus ao, Kepa?"
Her Father blinked, and his brows raised. "Your mother's right, you are sweet." He let out a sigh and looked upon her. "It pleases me very much, but know there's nothing you need do. Just having you here — seeing the daughter we've missed for so many moons... that is enough."
Visenya felt her chest tighten; while seldom did she think of her being 'stolen' away save for thoughts about how her life could've turned out, it seemed something each and every member of House Targaryen focused on. From her twin 'Naerys, to — most definitely — her siblings, and finally, Mother and Father.
She could but imagine how her Grandmother might feel, or her Great Uncle.
Each was still a fortnight or so from arriving, and she knew not how to act or what to say 'round th—
"Rhaenys and Ser Loras each made mention of you desiring rides out, and beyond the gates of the city." Father's words shook her from worried thoughts, and Visenya's attention darted back to him as he leapt from topic to topic. "If it pleases you, and if the weather is fine, perhaps we could go out on the morrow or the day after, and enjoy a short trip."
Visenya's brow furrowed. "Doesn't Aegon mean to fight in the team melee's final round on the morrow, Father?" When she realised just how that might sound — the King being questioned by a Princess — she swallowed and made to add something, but a shake of her father's head cut her off. In an instant, she set her eyes to the table, a hand clasped to her knee. "Forgive m—"
"You've nothing to apologise for." His voice was gentle, but firm. "Speak your mind. Always. The cost of secrets and unasked questions have already cost our family much."
He wasn't wrong. Unlearned as she might be on some matters of history, the war was one she might be considered an expert on... were only Northern sources considered accurate.
"As you wish." She paused, and gathered her thoughts.
That earned a nod from her Father, and a smile from her Mother, the latter of whom pulled Visenya's frame into her own as Father spoke once more.
"Aegon does fight on the morrow, you have the right of things, but 'tis only to be two matches, and they'll start before the sun reaches its peak." Father paused for a moment, his eyes flitting between her and Elia. "We should prove able to return in time to swap for riding leathers, and then, we'll ride along the coast 'til darkness begins to settle. We'll sup together as a family upon returning. Be it the morrow or the next day, I’d enjoy riding with you, sweet girl."
The warmth of Mother's side and the softness of her hair against Visenya's cheek had her feeling very calm. "I'd like that very much too, Father."
"As would I." Elia's agreement came as her hands began to stroke through her hair, the soothing sensation having her eyes growing heavier and heavier.
"Aemon." One word from Father had one of the two Kingsguard — the other being Prince Lewyn — immediately moving towards the exit of the royal chambers.
Visenya was impressed by the speed with which the man moved and the lack of words that need be had betwixt him and her Father for an understanding to, evidently, be reached. It made her feel as if that time she'd ordered various menfolk to fight for her pup's amusement had seen her come across as inept or lacking in authority.
Perhaps, it'd been more a testament to those men and their desire to serve. She'd prefer to think that.
"More meat for you, my sweet." Elia's voice brought her back, and she saw that, on her plate, Father had placed more cuts of beef. "You're thin."
"Rhaenys said the same. She insists on seeing me stuffed full whenever we share a meal." Visenya found herself leaning into the touch of her mother as the fingers stroking her hair were joined by a pair of lips pressing kisses into her scalp.
Father's smile grew. "I hear the pair of you are near-always seen together. Daenerys' company isn't uncommon either. It gladdens my heart, though, I think we'll need steal her away more oft, my love." His eyes flicked up, and his words were aimed at Mother.
Elia nodded with faux seriousness.
"I doubt that very much. Our little Visenya's proven a happy recipient of all my doting." As if to prove her point, Mother squeezed her tight, and her fingers brushed over Visenya's cheeks and jaw. "The sweetest, and best behaved child, wouldn't you agree, husband?"
Father let out a chuckle, and he leant back. "Aegon has his moments."
"And our other girl?" Elia's head tilted.
Father's lips curled upward, and he let out a small laugh. "Rhaenys' tongue can be quite sharp. She's as willful as you, love—" he was quick to speak when Elia arched one perfectly-trimmed brow. "—A trait I'm glad she's inherited."
Mother's hand patted his own.
Visenya watched them both, a smile of her own forming; she'd always wondered how her parents had got on with one another. Had they bantered? Had her mother been cool as her Uncle Eddard? Mayhaps she'd been sweeter, more soft-spoken and kind, like Nuncle Benjen.
How sweet life could have been.
A gentle, rolling breeze that carried with it the overwhelming scents of the flowers on her balcony were the very first thing that greeted her as Visenya blinked awake, her eyes slowly focusing on the bright light of the sun as it poured in.
With a puff, blowing many a strand of silver-gold hair out of her face, she rolled over, to the side that'd see her face darkness. There was a lingering fog in her mind from the wine she'd drank and the lateness of the hour which she'd returned.
Father and Mother had kept her with them long after the sun had set.
Their talk had been mostly trivial with promises of more later — the trio had simply preferred to spend much of their time laughing, giggling and smiling, and sharing memories, stories and more; loathe as they were to speak of her homeland, tales of her rides in the woods saw a smile on the face of King and Queen alike. There seemed a nostalgia to their gazes at times too, but Visenya didn't inquire.
A yawn escaped her, and her arms stretched, her mind beginning to fully wake.
The day that greeted her was to be spent riding out with her Father... after her morning's High Valyrian lesson, which was to be followed by spectating Aegon and the rest of the Crownlanders; there was a match before it too, but she'd be busy eating and speaking with the others present.
Visenya groaned when birdsong — beautiful as ever it was — greeted her with a wave of cramps of a kind very familiar to her.
She pushed herself up into a sitting position, and swung her legs off of the bed, her toes curling in the plush rug underneath her.
Another yawn left her, and Visenya took a breath, her arms rising high, stretching again, the tips of her toes wiggling as her body awoke.
She was still clad in the thin silk shift she'd worn to bed, and the warmth in her room meant she could leave it on for a few moments more.
Her feet padded softly as she made her way out onto her balcony, and a small, contented sigh escaped her as the breeze washed over her.
Her fingers moved to her hair, brushing through the loose waves and knots with practised ease; the fact that her strands were no longer dark did little to change the routine she'd had since she was but a girl.
A hum left her as she basked in the rays of sunlight that washed over her, the feeling only made bearable by the lack of the day's heat that was sure to come in but a few hours' time.
Visenya could hear the bustle of the city down below, and the voices of guardsmen outside her chamber's door; they were garble—
"Little sister~" Rhaenys' voice was loud and clear as she sang, the heavy, thick door doing little to muffle the volume of her voice. "Won't you let your dear sister in?"
Visenya went over, and with a huff, unbarred the door; it was a habit she'd long-since taken up, for her life in the North had required it.
"My, you look a touch sleepy." Rhaenys swept in, seeing the door shut as soon as Visenya had stepped aside.
Visenya didn't disagree. "It was late when I returned." Her eyes moved to her wardrobe as Rhaenys' hands went to her hair, combing and smoothing the strands.
"Mother and Father desire time with you. Mother says I hoard you. Aegon finds it amusing, even though he's not had too much less of you than I." Rhaenys sighed, and her lips pressed to the top of her head. "Now, should I call for water? We can pick out your dress for the day whilst we await its arrival."
Visenya felt a duality then; a portion of her was living the life, more than happy to gaze upon exotic fabrics and new dresses as well as the many baubles that went along with them... and then, another portion of her was wary, and hesitant. She'd yet to grow accustomed to the looks of the smallfolk or courtiers, and many of them, especially the menfolk, seemed to let said looks linger in the most unwanted of ways.
But, she couldn't hide forever.
"My thanks, sister." Visenya's agreement came as the other Princess' fingers worked magic, smoothing and straightening the locks. "You're riding with us tonight too, aren't you? Mother and Father — they said you and Ser Loras spoke to them of my desires to feel a saddle beneath me."
"I did, and I plan to be by your side." Rhaenys' drew away then, her feet swiftly seeing her over to where a great many perfumes and oils sat; she began to deposit some after a hand reached down the centre of her dress, to the collar that was open just enough to show the top of her breasts.
"You... kept them there?" Visenya asked, the words coming out slowly and uncertainly.
Rhaenys looked her way with a raised brow, and her lips curved upward. "Where else would I keep them?"
"I... don't know." Visenya couldn't deny the fact that she'd been surprised, however. "Are you not... afraid they might get dirty, or sweaty? What if they spill?"
"If they do, I've more than a dozen of each kind that I like the smell of in reserve." Rhaenys' answer was matter-of-fact. "And any sweat does little to glass — now, to me, little sister. We’ll decide your scent and oils while we’ve the chance.”
Visenya’s eyes went along the walls and persons as she ascended the familiar steps to the Royal Chambers in the arena.
She’d walked them more than any other in her time at King's Landing, but certainly far less than her former tower — even now, she imagined she could climb them with a blindfold and have no trouble.
When she emerged from the stairwell and into the main room, the sight that greeted her was a familiar one; furniture, servants, wine and food, all ready to be enjoye—
Arms wrapped ‘round Visenya from behind, and pulled her backward, into a soft body, the scent of a flowery perfume washing over her as a voice greeted her. “My lovely twin.” Daenerys, finally sans Monford, squeezed her tight and her lips pressed to her cheek. “I caught you!”
Visenya couldn't help but laugh after overcoming the initial jolt of nervousness — she had no doubt Dacey or the good Ser Loras would’ve reacted with a blade drawn at a sudden embrace were it not a member of her family.
"Good morrow, sister,” she returned the greeting, a smile on her face as Dany pulled away and rounded her.
As the pair exchanged a brief hug, Aegon made his entrance by way of the only other entrance, his Kingsguard behind him.
"There's our ‘Senya." He said with a wide smile, a hand waving his guards off when they made to follow. “I’ve come to be wished good fortune, little sister, auntie.”
His eyes darted around, and a frown came to his face.
"Where's our elder sister?"
Daenerys was the one who answered, the smile on her lips as mischievous as it was wide. "Are we not enough for you, nephew? I thought you loved us."
Aegon snorted, and his hands went to his hips. "I was merely curious. It's not like her to miss a chance to tease and prod."
"She desired a change in apparel — the breeze and lack of blistering heat means the usual gowns will no longer do." Daenerys answered, and a finger tapped her chin. "Now, what sort of good fortune do you desire?"
Aegon's face turned mockingly thoughtful, and he hummed. "Well... a kiss from the most beautiful women in the world upon my cheek would surely do the trick."
Visenya snorted, and Daenerys gasped. It was a faux thing, given the giggle that followed.
“Monford would have something to say about that, I fear. He's rather possessive." Daenerys said with a laugh — her eyes went to the door then, and she clapped as the falling of feet was heard. "Rhaenys, you're just in time."
The elder Princess made her way inside, and she paused when her eyes found them. Her brows rose, and her lips curled upward. "Why do you stare at me so? Do I look funny?" Rhaenys’ eyes went to her dress, searching for a flaw; none was present, of course.
"Nay, dear sister, you look lovely." Aegon bowed and extended a hand. "I was seeking tokens of affection for good fortune."
"You're lucky I adore you, Eggie." Rhaenys sighed and strode forward, pressing a kiss to each cheek as her hands rested on his shoulders. "Be sure to make me proud and see the Reachmen defeated. No offense, Ser Loras, of course."
"None taken, Princess." Ser Loras' voice came from 'Senya’s side.
Knowing that her knight couldn’t answer in a way most would desire, Visenya took up his cause. “Ser Loras, isn’t your brother, Garlan, one of those fighting for the Reach today?"
Ser Loras' lips twitched upward, and he nodded. "He is, Princess.” There was no small amount of pleasure in his voice.
"Ah, so I'm not the only one looking to gain glory this morn. Well, I shall endeavour not to embarrass the Reach by beating the two best knights of their vaunted Kingdom." Aegon chuckled, and his eyes went between them.
"Mayhaps it is the Crownlands that shall fall, my Prince." Ser Loras' retort was a tad quicker than Visenya expected, but Aegon, rather than take offense as she feared he might, laughed.
He gave the Reachman a pat on the shoulder. "We'll find out soon enough, Ser." Aegon's attention switched back to the trio of Princesses. "Well, I shall not delay any longer. Until I return victorious."
Visenya, getting out of paying with a kiss just as Daenerys had, opted instead to offer a smile as she bid him good fortune.
Rhaenys rolled her eyes and waved him off. "Win, and we'll tend to you as if you were the first of your name — now go on, little brother. The crowd awaits."
With seemingly darker eyes, and a smile, Aegon bowed once more. "Sisters, Auntie." He gave a flourish, and strode from the chambers, his Kingsguard quick to follow.
After a second or so of thought on account of her sister’s words, Visenya put forth a question "How do you think the matches will go?" Visenya’s gaze moving from the door to Rhaenys and Daenerys as the sound of Aegon's and the guards' feet descending the stairs echoed through the chamber; Ser Loras made to leave not long thereafter.
"The Crownlands will win, naturally. Aegon and two Kingsguard? No finer team was fielded." Rhaenys then changed the topic as she drew 'Senya to a couch with a nod; a platter of meat, bread, and cheese appearing before them by a serving maid who was very quick in making herself scarce. "Dany, come and join us while we wait for Aegon's match to start — Lord Monford won't be elsewhere when next your eyes look to the Velaryons. Father'd have his head if he tried flee from his duties, or his betrothed."
Daenerys' blush went as red as any of Visenya's own, but she complied nonetheless.
The Crownlanders had done it.
Aegon, the Kingsguard and the men that'd joined the former most's group had been victorious, but only barely; Aegon and Ser Aemon being the final two still standing.
Aegon had taken a blow to the shoulder, and his armour had made such a fearsome crack that Visenya had felt her heart drop for a moment, but all was well. Somehow, he'd shaken off a blow she knew'd have seen her on the ground, and he'd taken down his opponent, Ser Aemon fighting alongside him so in-tandem that they'd made it seem almost effortless.
Either way, the Crownlands had won, and, to the delight of the King and the Queen, Aegon and the Kingsguard had been named champions of the team melee; a fine feat for the Crown's reputation, and 'twas all before his time on the lists.
"Our boy's already making his return!" Mother was yelling so as to be heard, the roar of the crowd for her brother and his cohorts making the task nigh-impossible.
"Indeed!" Father yelled back, a broad smile on his face, the gold of his crown glittering under the midday sun. "Inside!" She saw him slide an arm 'round Mother's shoulders, guiding her as she, in turn, took ahold of Visenya's hand.
They'd been seated on a high balcony, one reserved for the royal family, and it's view, while magnificent, had seen them all but deafened by the volume of the crowd when it grew too excited; it was a far cry from the quiet of the North save for the noises nature made, and the howls of wolves.
Still, she enjoyed the experience once much of the noise was drained out by entering a few chambers deep into the Royal's portion of the arena.
"I've never heard people make a sound quite like that, Father." Visenya remarked, her hands coming up to her ears as the sound still echoed around her mind.
"Archery seldom sees much cheer, but wait until you hear the crowd at the tilt if you thought that loud." Father's voice was amused, and his smile had yet to disappear.
"Royal Weddings see a good amount of noise too." Mother added with a smile. "I remember ours as if it were only a day past."
Father let out a sigh and a nod. "I remember it just as well." His attention shifted from Elia, back to her, his smile still ever-present. "'Twas a great celebration, and it's something I'd love to have happen again. Not for us, of course — my children will all have a wedding worthy of their remembrance."
"Father? We've a day's time betwixt the end of this and the start of the true melee, don't we?" Rhaenys' question seemed to imply she had a thought.
"We do, daughter." Father replied. "Why?" With the crowd still loud, far away as it was, Father was speaking louder than his oft soft voice allowed; he sounded Kingly and strong, the way Visenya always thought a King should sound when she'd read tales of them.
"Why don't we share a meal with the Velaryons and Celtigars? Visenya's had nary a chance to speak with either, and she's already shared time with Tyrell, Stark, Lannister and Martell alike." Rhaenys was, evidently, a fan of her idea; Visenya couldn't say she was overly fond, even if Vaella might be present.
"A fine idea, sweetling." Elia's words were spoken with a smile, and she reached for 'Senya's hand. "Wh— ah, our victorious son returns at last." Aegon's arrival saw the conversation change course.
"I came swiftly as I could — a great many tried to catch me on my way here, but they were deflected easily enough." Aegon's smile was wide, and he had a glint in his eye that told Visenya he'd enjoyed himself; he strode towards her and Rhaenys.
"I saw some of your match, brother." Visenya found herself saying, her eyes going from the floor, up to his gaze; the happiness he felt was so very clear. "You did well."
"Did I impress, little sister? Rhaenys?" His hair was sweaty, sticking to his brow and cheeks, and his smile was wide as could be. The redness of his face spoke of the sheer exertion as well; he was redder than even when he’d be deep in his cups.
"Oh, yes, very much." Rhaenys said in a sweet, girlish tone that belied her teasing. "You fought oh-so-well, my little brother." She added, reaching out a hand to run along his armoured shoulder.
Aegon's expression turned a touch pouty in a way a younger sibling always did when the other made fun.
Visenya couldn't stop herself from smiling and giggling; Daenerys did the same.
"You're just jealous." He retorted, crossing his arms and giving her a mock-huff.
"And, pray tell, of what exactly are we jealous, little brother?" Rhaenys raised her brow and stepped forward, and whilst it looked like Father was nearly ready to speak, all teasing and challenge dropped from Rhaenys as she gave a kiss to his cheek. "You were great as ever you are. Now, why don't you let 'Senya and I tend to you? Mother and Father can't enjoy your stink."
"It's a man's smell, dear sister." Aegon retorted, but his hands were already moving, unfastening the straps and clasps of his armour at the prospect of cool cloths and the attention of his sisters.
Visenya heard a tut and soft little thud, then Mother's voice sounded. "You taught him to say that."
Father's was the next voice, and it sounded as if he was trying not to laugh. "I’d not worded it half so crassly, my love."
Visenya and Rhaenys moved away from the others as a pair of serving maids brought forth the water and cloths.
Sometime later, as they made their way back to the Red Keep, Visenya found herself feeling a strange sense of contentment. It was a rare thing, a day where her stomach didn't ache from nerves and worry, or the thoughts of her family, dragon or wolf. Mayhaps it was the whole of them being together, or she’d grown accustomed to her surroundings; the wheelhouse especially felt comfortable to her now.
There was something to be said about a sense of home and a true family not torn apart or otherwise divided, and gods, so… affectionate.
When the morrow struck, Visenya found it lacked bird or breeze to rouse her; instead, a light tapping of rain met her ears.
With a groan, her eyes opened, and her arms stretched above her. With that came her back arching and her toes curling, as a yawn left her; the shake of her legs as would oft come when one stretched felt positively delightful.
Her gaze once focused was greeted by the Targaryen black-and-red canopy of her bed before it drifted to the curtains; they were drawn shut, keeping the morning light, or what little there was, out.
"Good morrow, sweet sister.” Daenerys’ voice greeted her, her hand atop hers.
She must've fallen asleep during the ride back from the arena.
"Mm, morn, sister." She sat up slowly, and a hand moved to her hair, brushing through the knots and waves that'd formed overnight. “You stayed with me? Is Rhaenys here as well?”
The second of her questions was answered with a snicker. “She left after aiding me in putting you to bed once Mother and Father decided to let you rest — Aegon and her hinted after, towards…” she trailed off, and her cheeks turned pink.
Visenya blinked, her morning-dulled mind taking a moment to understand, then her eyes widened. "Oh." She cleared her throat, and her gaze went from her twin, back to her bedding. "I, um... well, I suppose it's..."
"Yes, I thought much the same." Daenerys said hurriedly, and the two fell into an awkward silence; one Daenerys desired not to see settled. “Your lessons — we should wash and break our fasts.”
“Didn’t you make mention of taking lunch with Lord Monford too?” Visenya asked, the words coming out slowly and carefully as her fingers worked through a tangle that’d caught her frustration when she’d felt it.
“After a walk through the gardens with him. He desired both.”
Visenya saw the perfect moment to poke fun at her twin. “He’s smitten. How sweet — I can only hope my future husband is the same, if not more so than Lord Monford.”
She’d very nearly added; if it’s not Aegon, that is.
Daenerys flushed once more. "He is. He's a sweet man, and..." Daenerys' words trailed off, her expression turning a touch nervous.
"And?"
Daenerys bit her lip and looked to the wall, then, with a breath, she met her eyes once more. "Do you promise not to say a word, and to keep a secret?"
Visenya nodded. "I swear."
Daenerys exhaled and drew close, and her voice lowered to a whisper. "He kisses me. I mean, we kiss… and I’ve seen how his… pillar stands when I pull away. I know that he desires me."
Visenya went pink as when she’d witnessed Aegon and Rhaenys in such a position. She didn’t need to think of the seemingly-kind Lord Monford’s pillar — or how her brother might compare, her mind wandering there of its own volition as it recalled most vividly what she’d seen.
"H-he has not gone further, I-I promise. But, it's only a matter of time until we’re wed." Daenerys continued, her gaze flicking to Visenya's as her lips curled upward. "I might sound wanton, but I admit I'm eager."
"O-oh, well, it's... natural to feel like that." Visenya imagined that was what Rhaenys would say, or Mother. Her knowledge of the world was limited to the books she'd read, and seldom did any speak so much as a word in regards to the sins of the flesh.
Daenerys let out a sigh, and then, hopped from the bed. Her feet padded across the floor and with a look, she spoke. "We should hurry. I think the hour's later than first I thought it to be — the clouds and rain hide the sun's position."
"Must we?" Visenya stretched out, and her eyes flicked to the door; the temptation of another few moments was a difficult one to resist. "Couldn't I send word for Ser Loras to see my lessons delayed? I suppose you'd not keep your betrothed waiting."
Daenerys' blush went red. "I’m not that infatuated." She replied, but the smile on her face and the tone of her voice spoke volumes. "We mustn't dally. Come now." She urged, extending a hand, the other resting on her hip.
With a groan, Visenya complied, and soon, her legs swung over the side of her bed, her feet finding the cold stone below.
If only she could sleep days away on occasion as she'd once done in the North, after a hard day's ride or a lingering sadness; there were those few dreams with hounds, when she'd dreamt of being locked in a cage, but those had gone after Fat— Uncle Eddard had seen them given a larger space farther from her.
Visenya's eyes darted to Winter as the thought crossed her mind.
When older, he could join her rides, mayhaps even as her mount — that made her smile, the thought of a Direwolf below her rather than a Northern Garron.
How so very like her namesake she'd b— Winter raced across the ground, a bone in his mouth and that wondrously soft white fur a blur. She thought him the most majestic and intelligent creature she’d ever seen.
'Til the little thing tripped and fell, his paws too large for his body.
She snorted, then laughed. "Sorry, Winter."
The pup let out a low whine, his eyes the most offended she'd ever seen from an animal; a fearsome and elegant beast indeed.
Chapter 20: Princess
Notes:
Hello hello! Here we are with Part 20, I hope you enjoy and as always, reading your comments has been very, very fun! For an update, 21-26 are fully edited and ready for posting, 27 and 28 have begun edits, and up to Chapter 39 is being written. 21-26 did receive roughly +8k words in addition, including three new scenes built from the ground-up (not simply being expanded) for cohesion thanks to the people who aid me in writing this.
I hope you all enjoy, and thanks again!!!!
Chapter Text
Upon returning from another day spent at the Dragon Arena, Visenya washed and changed into riding leathers — old ones of Rhaenys', that needed only a few tweaks to be made wearable — and made her way down to the stables well ahead of her siblings, the eagerness in her steps betraying her excitement.
She was greeted by a stablemaster who, after a bow, led her over to a stall where a tall, beautiful creature stood. Its mane and tail was a silver-white that was a touch lighter than her hair; it wasn't a steed she'd seen before.
"She's a gift from the Queen, Your Grace." The man said, a wide smile on his face as her hands went to the stall's gate. "She's a lovely mount, sweet and gentle — she'll give you no trouble."
Visenya couldn't hide her surprise, and her lips were quick to turn upward into a smile; one that fell after the man's words truly registered.
This was a gift, and likely one that was meant to be a surprise. In her haste to see the stables, despite the fact it'd see her ride no sooner, she'd spoiled the surprise. That made her feel... odd, as if she'd done something wrong, and should apologise, even after Mother and Father alike had said they desired not to hear so much as one more 'sorry' from her lips.
With a fondness and fascination, Visenya edged forward as she accepted the fact she’d already spoiled her surprise. Her hands came to the horse's head as she stroked her, murmuring quiet thanks and gentle words; the stablemaster was kind enough to hand her a few apple slices and carrots, and her eyes darted between them and the majestic, beautiful beast that was looking at her most expectantly.
When the first of her family arrived to find her, they found Ser Loras and Dacey still in the stables; Visenya had yet to mount her gift. She was too enamoured with the mare.
"To think I'm usually first." Rhaenys' voice broke the silence and drew her attention, the elder Princess' eyes upon her.
"I'll admit I was very eager." Visenya's smile grew, and the horse whinnied, the sound causing her eyes to turn; she wondered if Rhaenys knew of the gift, but when she looked to her, there was no sign.
"So it seems. Well, we'll have to get you up on her. You've a saddle yet to break." Rhaenys approached, and her hand stroked the horse's nose. "How oft did you say you used to ride?"
"Many times a day, whenever I could." Visenya remembered her childhood, the hours she'd spent riding through the trees and over streams, all near to Winterfell, and all known, even now, to the wolf within her.
Rhaenys blinked, and her brows rose. "I thought you were jesting when first you mentioned your frequency of riding."
"Nay, I was not." Visenya's reply was earnest, and her hand ran over the horse's mane. "I miss it dearly."
"A good thing Mother and Father are letting you ride now." Rhaenys said with a smile, and a hand took her by the arm. "Now, let's get you into the saddle — having them arrive to see you atop will make for a fond memory, I think."
Visenya was getting to know the horse — Jumper, she was called for her love of hurdling over logs and fences when she could — as her parents with Daenerys at Elia's side, arrived; Aegon was some distance back, and walking slowly with a few other men.
She thought one was Balegor Celtigar, and another... a Velaryon whose name she didn't know, though she thought mayhaps he was Monford's cousin by the look of him.
When Mother and Father spotted her not too long after their arrival, the smiles that appeared on their faces made Visenya feel a sense of warmness within her; the pride and joy was clear as day, and they strode towards her with their heads high — Father especially seemed to have a skip to his step.
"You sit in the saddle as naturally as Lyanna." Father said once he was close, his hands touching Jumper's saddle, and a smile on his lips. "Do you like your gift, 'Senya?"
Visenya could only return his smile with a wide one of her own, and a nod. It took a few seconds' time for words to come. "I do, thank you, Father, Mother."
"You're welcome, my little girl." Mother was the next to speak, her eyes upon her. "It seems she's taken a liking to you."
"As she should." Father added, and he moved away from the pair, looking up at her. "She's a good horse, and well-mannered. I sought only the best, but on short notice, 'twas hard. Thankfully, a fine breeder was here for the tourney and your mother was able to see the greatest chosen."
Visenya dipped her head. "Thank you again, Mother, Father." She'd repeat the words a thousand times and more if they were necessary, even if it made her seem childish and silly; with wardrobe and Chambers alone, they'd likely spent more on her than the Starks ever had. It was a wonder that the Crown hadn't lost their riches, though, in truth, she knew she simply couldn't comprehend the vast wealth the Realm held.
Father waved a hand, and a laugh left him. "'Tis nothing — I would've seen you with your own stable if I'd had you for the years we missed."
"And a guard to go with it." Elia folded her arms. "I remember all too well Lyanna's adventures and urge to go places on her own. If you're anything like her, we'll need find a rider unlike any other to keep you company."
"Winter'll do well." Visenya spoke without thinking, and her eyes widened as her cheeks heated. "I- I mean... to say when he's older and larger. Most men would think better than to face a Direwolf, let alone one trained."
“You're right." Elia smiled and stepped forward. “You’ll have a fierce guard once he’s good and grown — until then, we’ll make certain Ser Loras’ riding prowess is the best it can be, won't we, Ser?"
The knight's reply was quick, and his posture straightened. "Of course, Your Grace."
Visenya saw him swallow, and, as if on instinct, she felt her lips twitch upward and the corners of her eyes crinkle; Ser Loras had been a friend, and a good one, but it was fun to watch him squirm in the presence of her parents and siblings.
It meant it wasn’t only she that felt nervous or small in their company, even if the feelings were born from different sources.
"Good." Elia nodded. "Now, I think it's time that you show us the extent of your riding skill, don't you, daughter?"
"Aye, I believe so, Mother." Visenya was most eager.
Then she remembered, to get to the coast or woods she could spy on occasion, they’d need ride out of the city and past the walls; she hoped her nerves wouldn't be too bad when the time came.
Father and Mother rode at the head of their party, flanked by Prince Lewyn and Ser Aemon — each watchful of the crowd held back by the city watch.
Visenya was behind them, Rhaenys to one side and Aegon on the other; Ser Loras, Ser Jonothor and Ser Jaime all rode around her and her siblings, and behind the trio of Knights was a guard of twenty.
They had no need for more, and a larger host would've made travel harder.
She spotted Daenerys’ mount near the rear, her auntie surrounded by guards as she hurried to keep up with their pace — she’d lingered so as to glance at the various merchants and shops more often than not, her curiosity, it seemed, far greater than Visenya's own.
“Princess Visenya!” A commoner's voice sounded as she glanced over her shoulder.
It was the third time she'd heard her name, and the crowd's eyes had been on her for some time; they'd all seen her, and knew her name, even if she didn't know so much as one of theirs.
Many had likely seen her in the arena as well, being one of the many thousands to look upon her and the rest of her family as they observed from well-protected, isolated balconies and box seats.
Her eyes met a child's gaze, the girl seated atop the shoulders of a woman near-enough to Visenya's own age. The pair were smiling at her, and, without a thought, her hand raised in a wave, one that saw the child's face light up as her own smile grew; she could hear the sound of cheers grow louder, and her cheeks flushed. The eyes she swore she felt upon her weren’t imagined, evidently.
She looked away and swallowed as that familiar tightening of her throat began.
Never would she grow accustomed to the people's cheer for her and her family, even if she knew 'twas a blessing, their gazes and calls would go until she could think no more.
Her eyes found Rhaenys' and the elder Princess gave her a reassuring smile; when she spoke but a moment later, she did so loudly so that her words would be heard by her over the crowd.
"They adore you." Rhaenys' expression was filled with happiness. "The people have been cheering for you since they spotted you — it's sweet. They love our family."
Aegon's head turned and he leaned forward in his saddle. "Father's done much for them — an abundance of food, a new sewer system, the arena. Lasting peace. There's much and more to be happy about."
"Indeed, little brother." Rhaenys spoke as she patted her mare's neck, the horse's ears pricking at the sound. "I imagine for Visenya, 'tis being out in the wilderness she so loves — Mother and Father said she has that Stark nature within her, the wild one. That's why he was so quick to say yes."
"Quick?" Visenya couldn't help herself, her eyes finding Rhaenys.
"Mm, indeed, little sister." Her gaze shifted and her smile turned fond. "You should see how long outings oft take to plan. Spur of the moments things are a rare treat."
Aegon chuckled. "Rare indeed. So far as Mother and Father know."
"If you think the Spider didn't tell them, you're mistaken, little brother." Rhaenys teased, a smirk appearing. "He likely knew the hour which you stepped out."
"Not possible, sister." Aegon was quick to retort, and his lips twitched. "I'm quiet as the wind."
Rhaenys snorted. "Is that why Mother caught you stealing into my ch—"
He cleared his throat and shifted. "A-ah, a topic for another time. Visenya, have you thought of what you'd like to see first?"
"The woods." Visenya's reply was swift, and the tightness in her throat had lessened now that the crowd had gone from the forefront of her thoughts and thinned as they progressed; Rhaenys' laughter at Aegon's expense had done well to distract her too. "I've seen enough of the sea from the balcony."
Visenya would most certainly be fine with avoiding ships for quite some time; the ride from White Harbour to King's Landing alone had been long and arduous as it was, even if the journey had been enjoyable at times.
"Not fond of the sea, sister?" Aegon inquired, his smile widening, the mirth in his eyes growing.
"I find the woods and hills more pleasing." She replied, her head turning and her eyes going over her shoulder. The crowds at their back were still thick and loud, though their cheer for her and her kin had died down, the excitement of seeing their King and Queen and their children was far more potent than any mere sight — she imagined, queer as it was, that she preferred the wheelhouse when within the city.
"That's the Stark blood." Aegon laughed. "Rhaenys has the Martell spirit within her — 'tis why she enjoys the beaches and waters so much."
"The sun's heat and the lapping of waves caressing your body..." Rhaenys gave a dreamy sigh, a wistful smile appearing on her lips. "There's little else so relaxing and freeing. Though I'd admit the woods are lovely, if not a touch chilly and dark."
"We have torches and guards, dear sister." Aegon replied with a smile.
"I wasn't meaning I was scared, dolt." Rhaenys stuck her tongue out at him, pleased that he was too far to reach out and poke at her. "I was speaking of the feeling and atmosphere."
Visenya's gaze went back and forth between them, a smile coming to her lips; their distraction had lasted 'til they'd reached the gate; the King's Gate, she recalled.
From there, it wasn't long before the walls were behind them, and the city too, the roads growing quieter as the smallfolk and wagons moved out of their way. The Kingsguard’s presence seemed enough to make those who could move do so.
The nature, the lack of stone and brick, the dirt paths and the trees and plants around them as they progressed served to soothe Visenya's heart more than she'd have imagined possible; she felt back at home, even if the woods were hotter and less dense than she was used to.
"Visenya," Father called to her as soon as she pulled away from Aegon and Rhaenys; she was eager to feel the wind rush past her face and the thrill of galloping.
"Yes, Father?" She turned her head, a wide smile on her lips as her eyes went over him, Mother and her twin betwixt them.
"Do be careful, and stay close." His eyes were bright as he looked upon her, and then they looked to the forest. "I'd rather not lose sight of you."
"Yes, Father." She'd agree, though 'twould take much for her to stray far, the woods weren't as densely packed as they were in the North, and Jumper would be most easy to spot with her colouring.
As she rode away with her siblings not too far behind and their Kingsguard at their heels, Visenya heard Mother begin speaking; she heard her mentioning how she rode, but she felt the wolf's blood take over, her body moving without thought as she and her newfound companion began weaving through the trees, the air and her hair whipping about.
She let out a laugh, and a wide smile appeared; she wasn't sure when the last time was that she'd laughed or felt so free since she'd been a Princess — she pressed on.
Visenya wasn't certain how long she spent racing through the woods, the sound of Jumper's hooves beating into the ground and her heartbeat pounding in her ears as branches, shrubs and trees flashed by — an hour, it could’ve been, or more, perhaps.
Sure, it'd been naught but large circles, but her time spent away from the Red Keep's walls was more than welcome.
When she finally stopped and her eyes found Rhaenys and Aegon, she saw that their eyes were wide as they gazed upon her, and the smiles they bore were bright and wide and matching.
"Well, someone's a natural." Rhaenys called. "I was right, wasn't I, little brother?"
"It would seem so." Aegon replied, his gaze meeting Visenya's. "Have you been taught, 'Senya, or is this some instinctive winter magic of yours?"
"Instinctive winter magic?" Visenya couldn't stop her lips twitching upward, and a giggle left her. "I- no, 'tis simply that I'm used to riding. I was allowed to do so near thrice a day — Father isn't worried with only Ser Loras and the others fifty paces from us?" She redirected the topic, her gaze going to the guards; her riding needn't be discussed, but when the Targaryens insisted on a score of guards or thereabout, when in the city, she had to wonder why in the wilderness, their presence seemed so lacklustre.
Rhaenys snorted, and after a sharp look from Aegon, she rolled her eyes and spoke again. "He has city-watch and our household guard in a perimeter around us. Four-score men, was it, brother? We're more than safe. He's also had the area cleared to some extent -- haven't you wondered why we've seen nobody since your ride began?"
"Oh." She hadn't.
As it turned out, there was much and more Visenya had put little thought towards, wrapped up in the thought of this outing as she had been.
Mother and Father had seen fit to have a plethora of food and wine brought, a few cooks and serving girls among those that’d ridden towards the far rear with wagons full of that which they’d need — it wasn’t just a ride that’d been planned.
'Twas lunch as well, one to be enjoyed by a riverbank, under a canopy of leaves and shade.
A feast fit for the royal family, with plates of roasted venison and fowl, vegetables cooked or raw, bread, honey, cheese, and fruit.
It wasn’t at all like the salted meat, cheese and bread she’d oft bring with her up North, and, though she liked the food of the Southerners, she felt a pang of longing in her heart for that simple cuisine.
It went away as Rhaenys pressed a grape to her lips and Aegon passed her a goblet.
They were all smiling and laughing, their eyes alight as they shared tales, jested and teased. The mood was high, and the feeling of comfort and familial joy was palpable enough that even ‘Senya could feel it.
"This is truly lovely, isn't it?" Mother spoke as Visenya's eyes found her, the older woman’s gaze upon her just as her siblings’ oft was. "'Tis not often we have the time to venture away, but 'tis worth the effort."
"Indeed, it is." Father said. “Enough so to warrant a happening of its likeness once a moon, I think."
"A-as in..." Visenya's lips were parted as she blinked; a ride a moon with the whole of her family sans her Uncle Viserys sounded lovely — rare, to be certain, but still, ‘Twas better than not at all.
The Starks had never done that either. Robb might join her on occasion, and Theon would try, but most of it was only her and her guardsmen.
"Mhm." Father took a sip of his wine. “And so long as Rhaenys or Aegon are with you, I see no reason to disallow you to ride with a more frequent occurrence.”
“You’ll still need a guard and forewarning, and your studies won't be put aside either, but so long as you obey, 'tis something we can allow. Is it not, love?” Elia ran a hand through her hair and looked to Father.
His smile was a good sign. "Mm, indeed — your hair, Visenya. It reminds me of how Lyanna’s would be when she returned from her adventures, all tangled and wild from the wind."
Mother's eyes had found her hair too, and they were filled with an odd sense of sadness, a small, sad smile tugging at her lips. "You're just like her."
Discontent to let any sadness or grief linger, Rhaenys did her best to lighten the mood — her way of doing just that was to reach for a berry and throw it, hitting Aegon square on the nose.
Visenya watched him blink and frown.
"Hey!" Aegon's eyes met Rhaenys' and his brows furrowed. "Why me?”
"Who else? It’s not Mother or Father who are targets, and so that leaves you, our sweet little aunt, and our baby sister — the choice is clear, isn’t it?" Rhaenys' words were followed by her lips twitching upward.
"Ah, yes, of course, my sweet and ever kind sister." Aegon said with a roll of his eyes. “You’re lucky I can’t break our betrothal.”
Rhaenys laughed. “I would think you’re the fortunate one.” She threw another berry, and as she was preparing for the third, Mother reached out, her hand catching her wrist.
"Rhaenys." Mother’s tone was indicative of an impending warning, and so Visenya took up her sister's cause.
She did so by taking one bright, plump strawberry, weighing it in her hand… and then promptly tossing it at Aegon, the fruit landing squarely on his chin.
His reaction was a mixture of shock and awe, and the rest of their gathering shared the same save for one; Rhaenys burst into laughter as soon as it fell to the ground, her eyes alight, and thereafter, the rest were smiling or chuckling.
"Visenya — Rhaenys, you're corrupting her!" He was feigning offense, and his words were spoken loudly. She imagined he was aiming to get Mother or Father to join his side.
"Skorkydoso iksis bona quba?" Rhaenys' tone was cheeky, and try as Visenya might, even with her lessons, she couldn't grasp her big sister's words.
Aegon's brows lifted, but before he could speak, Father did. "Rhaenys."
She laughed and waved a hand. "Just a jape, father." Her tone was sweet and her gaze innocent.
"Mm." He said, his gaze upon her 'til Elia's hand came to rest upon his thigh and she whispered into his ear.
Daenerys spoke up then, and as she shifted a smidge closer to Visenya. "I'll ward off these two — they need listen to their aunt."
Visenya smiled, her gaze going to her twin as Rhaenys made a sound of mock offense. "Thank you."
The smile Daenerys gave her in return was full of mirth and joy. "You're entirely too fast atop a horse, you know. I'd wished to ride with you."
Her cheeks warmed. "I was excited. 'Tis a long while since I've had the chance, and Jumper and I have yet to grow accustomed to one another — I wanted to learn her pace and gait."
"You're a natural." Daenerys said with a nod. "You were the most skilled, and the fastest. Aegon was the second."
"Rhaenys was the slowest."
"Oh hush." Rhaenys stuck her tongue out. "I was enjoying the scenery, unlike my baby brother and sister."
"That's what you tell yourself." Daenerys giggled as she shifted closer still to Visenya.
Aegon was quick to add his own words, and his smile was full of mischief. "'Twas likely the weight of your breasts slowing you down."
"Aegon." Father's voice held a note of warning; the very same it'd taken with Rhaenys.
He shrunk under the man's gaze — a reaction Rhaenys had distinctly lacked. "Apologies."
Rhaenys was smirking and shaking her head, her next words directed at Visenya.
"He's a dolt, and his sense of humour is worse. Don't mind him." She spoke as she patted her shoulder. "Now, little sister, what did you think of the Dornish style saddle? Better, or worse, than the Northern ones you're so used to?"
Visenya considered the question. "I prefer the Northern one. Though the Dornish style isn't bad." She was quick to add the latter. "Just... not the same."
Rhaenys cooed, and she was leaning closer, a hand raising and brushing over her cheek. "Adorable. You're such a sweet, precious little thing."
Her cheeks flushed and she swallowed, her tongue coming to wet her lips.
"Oh, leave her be, Rhae." Daenerys rolled her eyes and leaned into her, pressing their shoulders together.
"I will do no such thing." Rhaenys was quick to retort, a cheeky smirk appearing.
Aegon, ever the opportunist, decided to speak then. "What of me? Won't you tease me and coddle me?"
"Mmm, I would, but I suspect you’d rather be teased in the form of kisses, wouldn't you, little brother?"
"N-no! That's not..." His cheeks grew redder by the second.
"Not?" Rhaenys' expression was full of mirth and her tone teasing. “I thought you’d enjoyed my kisses… I suppose our marriage will be one sans the physical affections that many other marriages have — how unfortunate." An overly dramatic, drawn out sigh left her. "I do so love physical contact."
"You're the worst." He groaned, his hand going to his face.
Rhaenys laughed, and as she leaned in, she was reaching out, a finger brushing against his nose.
"And yet you're the one who wants to marry me. You're an oddity."
He shook his head and rolled his eyes. "A dolt just like you say. That's what I am."
"Yes, you are, sweet little brother." She said, her eyes going to Visenya, whereupon the elder Princess' gaze turned soft and her smile fond. "My little siblings are such treasures." It was said with a sweetness rare in Rhaenys’ tone.
"You're an incorrigible flirt." He muttered, and as Rhaenys' smirk grew wider, Visenya's cheeks felt hotter; she remembered the kiss they’d shared, the one that had made her feel funny and had stirred up a warmth and want deep within.
Rhaenys gave a dismissive wave. "I'm not a flirt, I'm merely affectionate — there's a difference, dear Aegon."
"A-affectionate." He snorted and shook his head. "Yes, and I'm a maiden."
"Are you, Aegon? I seem to recall a night where you were anything but." Rhaenys said with a teasing smirk. "Or was that all a dream, hmm?"
Visenya was lost as to what was going on, and in their own world as her parents were, Rhaenys and Aegon continued, their exchange growing more and more heated until Mother interrupted and reminded them that they weren't alone.
"Oh, right." Rhaenys batted her eyes, the gaze thereof on naught but Visenya; the apology seemed anything but as she swiped her tongue over her lips. "Forgive me, little sister. Sometimes I forget myself."
Daenerys snorted. "You mean you don't care and do what you wish."
Rhaenys hummed and nodded. "True with others, not with family, my lovely Auntie. Now, little sister, is there anything you'd like to do after lunch? I'm sure mother and father will have their own ideas, but 'tis good to ask and know — I think we’ve a bit of time before we need return to the Keep."
Mother nodded at Rhaenys’ words, her whispered conversation with Father seemingly finished.
"Mm..." Visenya thought for all of a second’s time, if that. “Riding. More riding."
Daenerys giggled. "I knew it. Maybe this time, I’ll be able to join you. You’ll not ride so fast, will you?"
Visenya's lips twitched. "We can go slower. If you like."
"Please." Daenerys was smiling, and as Visenya turned, she was leaning in, a kiss being pressed to her cheek. Their eyes met and her twin's smile widened as she nibbled on a particularly ripe-looking strawberry.
When Mother and Father's gazes fell on her, and Rhaenys was laughing at her flushing face, Visenya couldn't find it within herself to mind; the day was one that'd become one of her favourite memories.
Drinks, jests, the forest and fine food; 'twas not a thing that'd have happened in the North — rides yes, but never like this.
All the same, it made her happy.
"So, what did you think of your first outing, little sister?" Rhaenys asked as Visenya pulled the blankets closer around her.
"It was fun." Visenya said, a tired smile forming; her thighs were sore, and her arse had a touch of pain, but it was almost pleasant after a fashion. “Very fun.”
"And apparently worthy of a rest." Rhaenys said, her voice filled with amusement as her eyes went to the sleeping form of Daenerys, a small smile appearing. "I do hope that your next and those ones that follow are just as pleasant."
Visenya was sure they would be.
"Now, sweet little sister," Rhaenys moved to her side, and she reached out, her fingers brushing her cheek, "Have your rest. I'll see you and 'Naerys rise well before our evening's meal."
"Mm." She nodded and let her eyes close, the soft touch of her elder sister's fingers making her feel warm and comfortable. "Can..." Visenya stopped short after nary a word was uttered.
"Yes?" Rhaenys' response was soft and her gaze tender.
Visenya shook her head, not certain as to why she'd spoken. "Nothing."
"You can ask me anything, little sister."
"Can you..." Visenya hesitated, her brows knitting, until, eventually, she rushed out the words. "Hum? A song?"
If she thought Visenya childish or silly, Rhaenys did not let it show.
"Of course." The smile she bore was warm and gentle. "Is there a song you'd prefer, little sister?"
"No." Visenya had found she enjoyed the few times Elia'd done so, given 'twas the first time she'd ever had somebody do it for her. "Any will do."
"Oh, any will not do, I think." Rhaenys shook her head. "It'll need be as sweet and lovely as you are."
Her cheeks grew warm, and the butterflies returned, but her lips were curling upward and the urge to hide her face was gone; she supposed it'd been gone for some few days, if not a sennight by now.... mostly.
"Mm..." Rhaenys' hand moved away, to her back, whereupon it began rubbing circles, the feeling of her fingers brushing her skin and the warmth and softness of her body against her own lulling her into a state of comfort and contentment as a song began leaving her lips, the tune slow and the humming melodious.
Try as she might to enjoy the soft vibrations and the soothing kneading of her back, it wasn't long before Visenya's eyes were closed and her breathing heavy. Sleep took her quicker than it’d done in a very long time.
When Visenya rose to Rhaenys' gentle shaking, she thought it'd been but a few minutes, her body feeling heavy and her eyes half-lidded.
But, evidently, that wasn't the case, for Rhaenys now wore a different set of clothes. Her sister’s hair was damp, and the light had dimmed, enough so to make her know the hour was late.
"I've had prepared for you a nice, warm bath." Her big sister's tone was quiet and soft; a look nearby revealed a still-sleeping Daenerys. "And some fresh clothes, though I'd like to see you in a few of the outfits I'd had made for you one of these evenings."
Visenya nodded, her eyes finding Rhaenys' as a yawn left her.
That made her big sister chuckle, her gaze full of mirth and joy. A hand brushed through her hair as Visenya’s head rose up a fraction. "Not yet? I suppose we'll wait a few minutes, hm?"
"Mhmm." She murmured, the words making her sleepy again. From Rhaenys' warmth and the bedding, the blanket and the way her body felt heavy, the urge to go back to sleep was great.
But a bath did sound nice, and desire not to dine with so many others as she might, she didn't want to be rude or ungrateful.
"I thought as much. We've still more than two hours' time before dinner begins."
"Two hours..." Her eyes opened a bit wider, and she was looking at her elder sister with a raised brow.
Rhaenys' laugh was a light and airy thing, and her hand came to rest upon her cheek, the thumb of the former brushing over her skin. "It would seem you've been sleeping for more than a few minutes, sweet little sister — you’ve still plenty of time, fret not."
"Oh." It'd been a whole lot longer than she'd realised; mayhaps her moon's blood was to blame, for surely she'd not exhausted herself that much from one simple ride.
"Mhm. But you'll feel refreshed after a bath, and an apple cake is being baked for us as we speak."
"Apple cake?" Her brows raised and a small smile appeared; the confections of the South were more delicious, and far more frequent than they’d been in the North.
"Indeed." Rhaenys leaned in, her nose brushing against her own and her hand going to her hip, the hold was a soft and gentle one. "One of my favourites, and I daresay you'll love it as well, especially with the sweet cream on top — it'll make for a fine treat whilst I spoil you 'til our supper."
"You don't have to do that." She said, her gaze meeting her sister's.
"Don't I? Hmm... Well, I'd very much like to, little sister." Her lips were a hair's breadth away, and as Visenya's breath hitched, a tingle was left where Rhaenys had touched her skin, a strange sensation left in her belly.
"Now," her hand was moving to her back, and, without much effort, Rhaenys lifted her, their gazes still locked, "Let's see you bathed and clothed, and then we'll have our cakes and some Lysene sweet wine whilst we wait. How does that sound, little sister?"
"G-good." Visenya murmured, her eyes closing and her head coming to rest against her chest; the sound of her heartbeat was a soothing one.
"I'm glad to hear it." Rhaenys then shifted, and before Visenya knew it, she was held aloft, the older Princess' arms underneath her.
The walk to the baths was a slow one, and when she was set down atop a fabric-covered bench, a yawn left her, the heat and cloud from the bath making her feel more relaxed and sluggish.
She hadn't the energy to stand, or really even the will to move, and so it was a good thing Rhaenys was here.
"Let's get you out of these, mm?"
Visenya nodded, and, with a few tugs and pulls, the clothes she'd worn on her ride were gone.
"There we are." Rhaenys had a small smile, and her eyes were roaming her body, a hand running up and down her side. "So pretty."
A flush rose to her cheeks, and the urge to hide away returned, the butterflies fluttering about her insides and a tingle left where Rhaenys had touched her, the skin of the latter growing warmer.
"Oh, sweet little sister." She cooed, and her hands went to her sides, the elder Princess kneeling before her. "So lovely."
"R-Rhaenys." She mumbled, her legs drawing together.
"Hm?" Her brow raised, and her smile was a teasing one. "What is it, Visenya?"
Visenya huffed, and slid away, dipping down into the water and sinking lower, her eyes closed and her cheeks hotter.
She was being teased, and the warmth within her belly, the strange sensations, and the butterflies, were all Rhaenys' fault.
"Ah, I see." She could hear the mirth in her tone, and as the sound of the bench shifting was heard, Rhaenys' next words were spoken a bit louder, their proximity closer. "Are you embarrassed, little sister?"
She didn't respond, and when she felt a hand touch her arm, and fingers begin to run up and down it, the urge to squirm and pull away was present, though not as strong.
"Oh, you are." The fingers kept going, and her hand was soon on her shoulder, and then her cheek, the softness and warmth of the latter pleasant. "How adorable."
Visenya opened her eyes, and a pout was her response.
Rhaenys was quick to lean in, her lips brushing against her cheek. "Sweet little sister."
Her pout was replaced by a huff; one Rhaenys seemed to correctly perceive as the end of their playful and teasing banter... if it was still naught but that.
"I'll see 'Naerys risen. Mayhaps she'll join you for the bath and both of us for those cakes."
"Okay." She murmured, her eyes finding her sister's and a nod left her.
Rhaenys was soon gone, and her thoughts drifted away with the older Princess, the heat of the bath and the smell of the oils used therein relaxing her body and making her drowsy, her eyelids feeling heavy and the urge to fall back to sleep returning.
A shake of her head chased such things away, and she was soon looking about, her gaze taking in the room.
She was alone, and so, without much thought, she sank down deeper into the tub, her feet pressing against the bottom and her eyes closing, her head dipping under the water.
The sound was muffled, and the world a distant one, the warmth of the water and the lack of light nearly made her feel as if she were back in her tower, hidden and safe in a small space, surrounded by darkness.
Then she was yanked back above, her head breaking the surface and her eyes opening to a concerned-looking Rhaenys and half-awake, exceedingly nervous Daenerys.
"V-visenya, why did you — what are you doing?" Her twin was frowning, her lips curled downward.
"Relaxing." She said simply; no other words or explanations could be thought up. It'd just felt like the thing to do.
Daenerys shook her head, her hair moving about and her eyes wide. "You can't, you might've..."
"Drowned?" Rhaenys supplied, a distinctly unhappy frown on her face, and her grip tightening where it still had a hold of her. Those long nails digging into her shoulders. "No more baths underwater, little sister. Understood? I'll supervise each and every one going forward, if I must."
Visenya frowned.
“It felt nice — I wasn't drowning." She huffed.
"You might've." Rhaenys retorted, and her voice was firm and unyielding.
"I won't." Visenya was beginning to get annoyed.
"Visenya." The way she spoke her name made her cheeks flush. "Please, just be careful."
"I am." She muttered, and as the two stared at her, their expressions ones of unhappiness, Visenya couldn't help but feel annoyed and put out. "It was fine. I promise. Might I return to my rest?"
"Promise or not, 'tis not happening again." Rhaenys shook her head. "Now," she let her go, the elder Princess' lips twitching into a smirk, "I think you were needing to return to your chambers ‘Naerys? I'll see Visenya clothed and kept away from others, and then the two of us will find you."
Daenerys looked to Visenya, seemingly uncertain.
Not wishing to say anything aloud on account of their audience, she instead sent a small smile her way.
Daenerys' lips twitched, and, after a few moments, she was nodding.
"Alright. But you two… do make haste — and Rhaenys, those hands of yours better stay on Visenya's hips and her shoulders."
Rhaenys raised a brow, and her smirk grew wider, a finger running up and down her shoulder, the touch slow and deliberate. "Of course, my favourite little auntie. I’ll keep my hands to myself — or, mayhaps, to only the places deemed acceptable."
Visenya's cheeks warmed and Daenerys' did the same, the latter rolling her eyes and sighing.
"Behave."
"I think myself the epitome of goodness." Rhaenys said, her fingers now stroking Visenya's cheek. The look she bore still carried flickers of worry, but the fondness and affection was present as ever.
"Yes, I'm sure." Daenerys snorted and shook her head. “Mayhaps I’ll be the one to come and collect the two of you — or Elia. She’s always done well to keep you in line, Rhae.”
A stuck-out tongue was her response.
Daenerys was soon leaving, and Rhaenys' fingers were no longer touching her, the elder Princess moving back and reaching for something, her attention on the latter and not her.
"Here we are." When she turned back around, there was a white, silk robe in her hand, and her eyes were roaming her form, a sigh leaving her. “Now, let's dry you and get you clothed, and then we can have a glass of that wine I mentioned before we need head out."
Rhaenys' touch was a light one when she made to help, and her movements seemed slow and methodical. Her hands and the towel they were using moved up and down her legs, arms, and glided across her belly as it sought her sides. Those touches left a strange, tingling sensation behind, and made her insides feel warm and turned her cheeks red — the doting was an odd, foreign thing, but not unwelcome given her hands stayed respectful. Gods, as time went on, her body even relaxed as that yearning for love, affection, and contact returned.
Rhaenys was not her Mother, and she was not Elia, but she was kind and warm and soft, and — dare she say it — safe.
"All done." Rhaenys said, her hand moving through her hair and the fingers thereof combing it with the most fleeting of touches. "Now, let's have a few minutes to ourselves before we head out, shall we?"
"Mm." Visenya nodded, and her big sister smiled, their gazes locking and the butterflies returning.
"Come, little sister." Rhaenys gestured, and a moment later, she was lifting her into her lap, the arm holding her and the other moving her hair.
"Rhaenys?"
"Yes?" Her tone was gentle, and her smile, soft.
"Can we… have the cake first? The wine can wait."
Her brows raised and her smile grew wider. "Of course."
Near an hour from when she’d bathed, Visenya had only just arrived alongside her twin and Rhaenys to her parents’ rooms.
The food was ready and waiting for them, and her mother, father, and brother all sat waiting for them just as the food was, their smiles warm and their expressions welcoming as their conversation came to a most abrupt halt.
"Come, my girls. Sit." Mother said, a hand gesturing. "We've some time yet before our guests begin arriving, so let's take advantage of it."
"Indeed." Rhaenys' arm moved, and a moment later, Visenya was sitting in a chair, the elder Princess settling beside her.
Daenerys, meanwhile, moved to her other side, her hand finding her own and a squeeze being given.
"Did you enjoy yourself, girls?" Her father's voice was a soft and quiet one, and he was smiling, the sight and sound bringing a smile to her own face.
"Very much so." Daenerys responded, and Visenya gave a nod, a smile still on her face.
"Good." Father reclined in his chair, a glass of wine in hand, and the look in his eye a pleased one. "I'm glad to hear it. Did you like your new horse, Visenya?"
"Mhm." She gave a nod, her smile widening as she thought of the beautiful mare once more. “Very much."
"She's a touch willful, but sweet and with the beauty befitting you. A wondrous companion." Mother added before she peered closer, her eyes narrowing and her gaze moving to her 'Senya's neckline. "Are you well? You're pink, daughter."
"Wine." Rhaenys answered for her, the smirk on her lips a large and smug one. "Though not much."
"Is that so?" Mother raised a brow with a look of teasing that Rhaenys most definitely inherited coming her way. "Mayhaps 'twas more than either of you let on. Ah well, another adorable feature of our Visenya, is it not?"
"Mm." Rhaenys' hand brushed hers. "One of many."
"Many?" Visenya frowned, a brow raised.
"Indeed. Your freckles, your blush, and the way your nose crinkles when you're happy, angry, or sad, the way your eyes light up when you see something you love, and the way your cheeks dim— I could go on, but I think I'd best spare you, hm?"
"Mmmph." She grumbled, her cheeks growing warmer and a huff leaving her; how could Rhaenys say so much, so readily?
Aegon didn't seem content to be outdone by their big sister or mother, however, and was soon leaning forward, a small, teasing smirk on his lips. "My turn." He said, his gaze moving over her face and a thoughtful expression appearing. "Your Northern accent, the way your eyes are always moving, and your care for Rickon. Unlike Rhaenys, I won't prattle on indefinitely, but know that all of them, and more, are features that are adorable and loved."
Visenya could feel her face growing hotter and turned to her twin; 'Naerys smiled with only a hint of trepidation, and her hand tightened ‘round that which had a hold of Visenya’s. Mother and Father were looking on with happiness, though Father seemed a touch red himself.
When she looked back to her twin, she couldn't help but feel embarrassed and shy, a part of her wishing to be back in her rooms and away from all of the Royals' gazes and words... yet, another part of her was filled with love and warmth, a fluttery and wonderful feeling left in its wake.
"No more teasing." Daenerys murmured, and though she couldn't see it, her twin had likely been giving her brother and her eldest sister a look.
"Of course, little auntie." Rhaenys' tone was sweet as could be, and, after a squeeze of her hand, Visenya opened her eyes, her cheeks still red.
Mother was smiling, her head inclined as a happy, contented and true look of joy spread across her face. "Now, I believe we were discussing your horse, Visenya."
Riding and horses of any kind were topics she was much happier with, and so, her blush receding, she straightened her back, and put word to her thanks and excitement and hopes — in time, she’d know the mare so well, it’d be as if they were on being.
Some time later — Visenya knew not how long it was — the Velaryons and Celtigars had arrived. Or, at the very least, those that'd been meant to join them.
There was Lord Monford, a man only a few years older than Rhaenys, and his cousins; Ser Jacaerys, another man of classic Valyrian looks and a supposed companion of Aegon, and the twins, Vaella and Baella. Either of the pair could've passed as sisters to Visenya and Daenerys, their hair, silver-blonde rather than silver-gold, and their eyes of a similar shade.
Then there were the Celtigars, a family which, admittedly, Visenya knew little about, her mind only having thought to bring forth a recollection of their sigil. Crabs. Led by Lord Alton, she found herself introduced to Ser Gael, his heir, Ser Balegor, his second son, and Vanora, his sole daughter — Ser Jaegar and Viserea, son and daughter of Gael, were also present, as was Gael’s wife, Jaina; Lord Alton’s children varied greatly in age, enough so to be noticed by her as a queer thing.
They numbered more than she'd expected, and, as the servants brought forth more wine and her mother and father, seated at the head of the table, began making idle conversation with Lord Alton, Monford, Gael and Jaina, Visenya was left to her own devices.
Well, not truly.
Daenerys was across from her and oft giving little smiles. Rhaenys and Aegon were with her too, sitting on either side of her with knees pressed close given how many were present; the former was speaking with Jacaerys, and the latter talking with Balegor. Just as she made to listen in, a small, quiet voice addressed her.
"Princess?" Vaella, seated opposite her, and her twin, Baella, on her left side, leaned closer.
Visenya made sure the other conversations were continuing, and, with a tilt of her head and a blink, she offered a response. "Yes, cousin?" That should serve to get her point across; she thought she'd made it clear before during their lessons.
Vaella's lips twitched upward, and the girl's head tilted. "I was telling my sister how unique your High Valyrian sounds... I... I dare ask if you could repeat some of what we've studied, if you'd be willing? My sister would like to hear, so would Vanora and Viserea, I’m sure."
At the mention of the others, Baella, who looked every bit the same as Vaella, but with a shade of skin that betrayed the difference in time spent outdoors, flushed and ducked her head, a mumble of agreement leaving her before her eyes looked back up at her from behind a curtain of hair; she had a certain… mischief, in her eyes. It reminded her of Arya.
As for the Celtigar girls, Vanora had her head cocked to one side and was looking at her straight-on, with a friendly and genuine-seeming smile. Viserea, on the other hand, seemed dignified and most mannered, like Sansa — ‘twas the closest comparison she could make.
"Um, alright." She paused. "I... only know a few phrases." Visenya hoped Vaella remembered, for she'd learned said phrases with purpose.
"That's okay." Vaella reassured. "I... we'd be honoured, regardless... Cousin."
Daenerys' hand under the table squeezed her own, and a smile was directed her way even as Lord Monford continued speaking to her, the two entirely in their own little world, it seemed.
Visenya swallowed and tried her best not to fidget, her gaze moving over the table, and her mind working to recall what she'd learned. "Nyke jorrāelagon ñuha lentor." I love my family; words she'd first thought to learn to prove she was accepting who she was for their sake now seemed true and honest, the words leaving her without too much effort.
Vaella and Viserea both reacted with a soft smile and the former gave that reassuring nod she'd grown accustomed to seeing; Sansa would've thought the two the perfect ladies.
Baella, however, seemed for more wild and untamed, the girl's reaction being a grin, wide and toothy, and when she spoke some few seconds later, it was in a voice nearly twice as loud as her sister's. "Lovely! Lovely! Do another!"
Vaella, to her credit, was quick to hush her sister, the hand she'd laid on the table moving to pinch her arm. "Quiet, you."
Vanora giggled at the show the two made for. “It truly was most lovely, Princess. I love how the letters flow from your tongue — the Northern notes make it so unique.”
Baella's reaction, meanwhile, was to stick out her tongue at her sister, the action earning a laugh from Rhaenys, who'd seemingly paid attention to them all. The elder Princess' gaze having turned towards the group in the midst of her interaction with Jacaerys.
"I love you too, little sister." Rhaenys made a show of pressing a kiss to her cheek, and then turned back around, her conversation resuming even as one of her arms moved to wrap around her shoulders.
Visenya felt her cheeks grow warmer, and Daenerys' grip on her hand became a tad firmer, her twin's thumb rubbing against the back of her hand.
"Thank you, Pri— Cousin." Vaella gave a dip of her head, and when Visenya glanced to her left, Baella and the others were doing the same.
"Thank you, Cousin." Baella leaned further forward, her hair brushing the meat stacked atop her plate; she cared not. "I heard you sparred with Prince Aegon? And Princess Rhaenys."
Vanora seemed intrigued and leaned further forward, nearly dropping her hair into her wine goblet until Viserea stopped her.
"Aye." Visenya winced. Flustered as she was being at the centre of attention, her accent and Northern heritage were making itself known; the little distraction beforehand certainly didn’t help.
"Truly?” Baella leaned further, her hand moving to her chin, and her head tilting. "I'd love to see you fight. Mayhaps I'll ask Father if I too may be allowed to train. If two Princesses are, he can’t call it unseemly.”
Vanora nodded eagerly. “It’d be most enjoyable! Men seem to love it, and a few of us must’ve played at sword on occasion with our brothers, no?”
"B-Baella, Vanora, don't be foolish." Vaella's gaze went from her twin, the outward Celtigar girl, and finally, to Visenya, and then back. "Our mothers wouldn't allow it."
"Mayhaps if I asked Princess Visenya to speak with her?" Baella looked hopeful, and then, as before, she seemed to remember herself after a look from Vaella. “I-if she's willing."
Viserea cocked her head to one side. “Our mother would do it if Princess Visenya suggested it.”
Viseny worried her bottom lip as the hand ’round her wine goblet shifted, the urge to take a sip growing ever stronger. “I couldn’t presume to make such a request. I... I’d not interfere in a familial matter."
As Baella and Vanora gave nods, Visenya felt Rhaenys’ arm that’d been on her shoulders, move, the fingers brushing through her hair, and a moment later, a warm breath brushed against her ear.
"So eloquent.” Her big sister cooed, and her voice was a low and pleasant one as the twins opposite them began to converse between themselves. "And so beautiful. Jacaerys and Balegor haven't been able to keep their eyes off of you. Pōnta ȳdra daor gīmigon iksā ñuhon se Aegon's."
The blush returned, and she tried to ignore the heat within her belly and the fluttery feeling that seemed to only worsen, the butterflies becoming a swarm. Outwardly, she imagined her features looked rather poised, but there was something about Rhaenys that made her feel queer.
"Rhaenys." Daenerys' voice came as 'Senya felt the hand gripping her own tighten, her twin having apparently finished her conversation. "Let the girl breathe. You're making her turn pink."
Rhaenys huffed and rolled her eyes as she pulled back and made to fill Visenya’s goblet. "Fine, fine, Auntie. As you say — I'll be good."
"You better." Daenerys' tone was firm, but there was a hint of mirth to it, the hand that'd held hers letting go and her fingers running through her hair instead.
"Do I not always behave?" Rhaenys batted her eyelashes, the smile on her face a sweet and innocent one.
Daenerys only gave a snort, her eyes rolling and the corners of her lips twitching upward. "Mhm."
"I do!"
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, dear niece."
Visenya hid a smirk behind a sip of wine, and when Rhaenys glanced her way, the latter's expression becoming a pout, her eyes widening, and her cheeks puffing out, her smirk grew wider.
"Traitor."
"Me?" Visenya made a point of batting her lashes and giving an innocent smile. "I wouldn't dare betray my big sister when she’s shown herself to be so trainable — avy jorrāelan, Mandia."
Those few words saw Daenerys and Rhaenys' gazes turning her way, their expressions a mix of pride and happiness; then came the cooing.
Even Vaella joined in; this new tongue would see her sister, brother and family all melt. Inwardly and outwardly, she beamed.
As the hour grew late and the wine was — mostly — consumed just as the food finished, it came time for music and dance.
Father sought the harp and Mother, for the first time she'd seen, a flute. The pair seemed just as infatuated with each other when it came to playing music as they were whensoever they were together, their eyes and smiles for one another and no one else, even if the music was meant for all to enjoy.
It made Visenya feel... lonely in a manner she'd seldom put thought towards.
Her gaze was soon on her siblings, the pair sitting beside one another, and the smiles on their faces ones of happiness as Rhaenys fussed over Aegon while he attempted to brush off her attempts with no true effort. The pair seemed... right together. A perfect match.
So why did either have a desire to include her in their joining?
Rhaenys would touch her, would kiss her, would dote and flirt and tease, and Aegon... he did the same, sans the kissing. Each was definitely possessive, and whilst Rhaenys could be more aggressive, it was Aegon she worried more about — she'd sparred him, she'd seen him with others in that same yard... what if he meant to claim her?
Would she be able to refuse him?
Could she refuse him?
As her happiness, and that fluttery feeling in her belly and chest, faded, she felt her throat begin to tighten, only for a voice — masculine and young, but not Aegon's — to call out.
"Princess." It was Lord Monford, and he had 'Naerys on his arm. "If you'd be so inclined, would you dance with me?"
Daenerys gave her an encouraging smile. "I admit I've told my betrothed much about you, 'Senya, and I've need for a break."
"I—" Her eyes moved from 'Naerys' smiling face, to his.
Lord Monford was a handsome man, his jawline sharp and his face well-defined, his silver-blonde hair cut short, and his nose straight and strong. Yet, good-looking as many would call him, even herself, she felt no warmth or desire in her belly at the sight, not even with the wine that so oft seemed the cause for her to act in a less than proper manner.
She gave a nod, giving the smile that she knew her parents and brother and sister expected in such situations. "Of course, Lord Monford."
Daenerys slid into a seat not far from them and let out a little sigh as she let her feet slip free of their wear. When her gaze met Visenya’s own, an encouraging smile was given.
'Senya found it somewhat odd that he would dance with her, but if Daenerys would encourage i—
"Ah, Lord Monford, I see you've stolen my dancing partner away." Aegon's voice rang out, and a moment later, her eyes shifted from the Lord she'd started towards, and sought her brother; more words came then. "You'd not mind if I took her after I see Rhaenys properly seated, would you?"
Lord Monford's smile was a polite one. "Not at all, Prince Aegon."
Aegon nodded, and, after shooting her a smile, he was gone, seeking out Rhaenys who was standing with Ser Jaegar and Viserea, the trio deep in conversation.
Visenya swallowed and moved closer, allowing the man to take 'hold of her hands; he seemed content to leave quite the distance between them. She was happy with that.
"Princess Daenerys told me that you and her call one another 'sister' — forgive me if 'tis a bold thing to say, Princess, but the two of you are a perfect match in appearance and manners, though I confess I don't know you nearly as well as I should." Monford seemed polite, and his eyes never once strayed from her face. "Mayhaps you'd care to join us and Vaella or Baella. Both, even. I'd rectify that error soon, if it's something you'd allow."
Visenya was quiet at first. She knew not what to make of the man, and, for a reason she could not pin down, his presence felt... welcome, as if he were a shield against something unseen; a stupid thought, given there were dozens of visible ones ever-present in their surroundings. "I would like that." The words were tentatively said, and held within them a true desire for a 'friend', dare she say.
'Twas he, after all, that'd one day take Daenerys to bride, and once that happened, their time spent together would most rapidly decline. She dreaded the day, but could do nothing to stop it, and, so, she supposed forming a bond with the man would be something that would alleviate that to an extent.
"Splendid." His eyes went over her face and his lips curved. "Prince Aegon's never glared at me until this day. Nor the Princess Rhaenys. Your family cares a great deal about you, if Daenerys' words weren't proof enough." Lord Monford pulled back as that smile grew in size, and she felt him drop her hands quick as could be in a manner that'd not insult.
No sooner had he stepped back, did her twin appear, the other Princess' fingers slipping into her intended’s as words came from Aegon; he hadn't even bothered to say so much as a word before taking her in his arms.
"My turn." His words were a murmur, and when their eyes met, his smile was a wide and handsome one; Visenya looked away and only just heard him and Monford speaking. Even Daenerys offered comment, but, like the men, Visenya paid them no mind.
Only when she was being pulled away from her twin's betrothed did Rhaenys — who just appeared as Daenerys returned to swaying with Monford — and Aegon both begin to speak, and whilst 'Senya was content to ignore their words, the pair soon had her paying attention, even as her feet continued moving to the sound of her mother and father's instruments.
"Monford's a good man." Aegon murmured. "But I doubt you'd be satisfied with his company for long."
"Agreed." Rhaenys hummed, one hand ghosting her shoulder and the other the small of her back. "You're much better off with your big sister."
Aegon coughed, the sound pointed, and, when 'Senya chanced a glance at him, he was offering their elder sibling a raised brow.
Rhaenys merely gave a sigh. "Fine. With the two of us."
"Better." Aegon smiled just the same as Robb would when he'd won a game of words or some such with the various Lordlings that'd come over; she also found herself reminded — when Aegon looked over at Monford — of the way Robb would grin whensoever he'd send one of those aforementioned Lordlings for a tumble after they'd look too long at her, or make mention of her parentage.
Was Aegon... was her brother doing the same?
"I believe, little sister, that I claimed your next dance." Aegon arched a brow at her as if he were asking if she’d truly forgotten.
Visenya's nose scrunched up as her eyes went very pointedly to Rhaenys. "I thought you were to escort Rhaenys to a seat?"
Rhaenys grinned and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Oh, I was, but Ae—"
"Rhaenys." Aegon prodded their big sister in the side; she felt his arm slide 'round her back to do so.
Rhaenys' reaction was an eyeroll and a shake of her head, the latter accompanied by a fond look in her eye. "Yes, yes, I won't embarrass you, little brother."
"Good." Aegon's hands slid around her waist, and his thumbs brushed her belly through her dress, the material soft and silky.
She felt herself tense and when he did too, he let those hands drop with a sheepish little smile coming forth.
"I do mean to have that dance, little sister — Mother and Father seldom play together." He smiled down at her, and then he offered his hands. When she accepted after an arched brow and a message clear on her face, his hands took hold of hers, and the same swaying she’d seen Monford do with Daenerys, the pair of them began.
Rhaenys, for her part, cooed. "Aw, look at you, my two darlings."
Visenya felt her cheeks grow warm, and, as Aegon began to lead them, her eyes turned away from her sister's teasing smile.
"There's no need to be embarrassed." Aegon's voice was a low, and soothing, one. "We love you."
Visenya couldn't find the words to reply, and so, instead, she focused on the music, her body swaying and her feet moving.
The butterflies returned, and her belly did the flip-flop it did whensoever her siblings would say or do something... too hard to put into words.
Thrice as many dances as she'd agreed to later, and she was finally released.
Her parents were done, her mother and father retiring to positions by the hearth, with the Lord Celtigar speaking with them. 'Naerys and Lord Monford too had joined, and, when Visenya saw her twin, Daenerys had a content smile on her face, and her betrothed's hand clasped in her own. She seemed a woman completely and utterly smitten by the man at her side.
It drew an odd mixture of happiness and sadness, but, before she could dwell too long, Rhaenys was there, her arm wrapping around her shoulders and a smile on her face.
"Aegon and I would have you join us for refreshment." Her words were a murmur, and Visenya found herself glancing past her sister, to the group which Aegon was sat with; the three knights, and the four other girls. An intimidating group now that Mother and Father and the others that were older had gone off to the opposite side of the room.
"I-I..."
Rhaenys gave a soft hum and squeezed her shoulder. "Just for a short while, then Aegon and I will see you to your rooms."
“If you insist, Mandia." She said with a barely-contained groan, and let herself be guided across the room; Rhaenys’ pleasure at the term of endearment was evident, as was Aegon’s jealousy, given the way his gaze flicked between the two of them with a little pout forming.
Rhaenys made sure Visenya was sat down before settling in beside her when they reached their seat, the older Princess' arm moving to go behind Visenya lengthwise atop their seating.
Aegon moved quickly thereafter, and, before she could blink, he was on her other side, a goblet of wine placed before her, and his thigh brushing her own as he leaned to do the same for Rhaenys.
Her two siblings were the centre of attention once conversation resumed. She could see their charm and how their eyes shone, and how their smiles were pleasant and the words spoken between themselves and their friends were light and full of laughter.
She felt out of place.
Clearly Aegon knew the other menfolk present very well, and Rhaenys had known the girls for near as long as she'd been alive; she even seemed to jape with Ser Jacaerys or Balegor in a fashion not unlike the Northmen in terms of crudeness and a lessening in propriety; not horribly so, but enough to show a companionship she most certainly missed
And then there was her.
"Cousin!" It was one of the twins — Vaella, Visenya was sure — that spoke.
She swallowed. "Cousin.” Visenya repeated, and her voice was a soft one.
Aegon's hand found hers under the table and he gave a reassuring squeeze, whilst Rhaenys did the same at nearly the same instant. She hoped she wasn’t so easily read.
"I-if you'd not mind," Vaella continued. "I’d like to see our lesson extended an hour on the morrow?"
Visenya very nearly shrugged; what else was there to do betwixt her time for lessons and the start of the melee proper? "Certainly, Cousin."
"Wonderful!" Vaella smiled, and it was a wide and pleasant one, her blue eyes shining. "I can't wait until we're far enough along to recite poetry. There's so many beautiful songs and verses, and I'd very much like to hear the Northern ones, as I've not had the chance to learn any of th—"
"You're going to bore the Princess to death, Sister." Baella rolled her eyes, and the grin on her face was a teasing one. "We should speak of her sparring, like the Visenya of old — not some dreary ballads."
Vanora offered her agreement with a most animated myriad of nods.
Aegon snorted.
Rhaenys laughed outright, and her lips brushed against the side of her head.
"I-I..." Vaella blushed. "Forgive me, Princess."
Visenya gave a slight nod. "Naught to forgive, Cousin. Poetry is as lovely as a good spar."
Vaella smiled at her at the same time Viserea agreed with a polite set of words that sounded most polished, and all whilst the men chuckled.
Ser Jacaerys snickered. "I remember the surprise when you knocked our Prince here on his arse the first time."
Rhaenys' giggling saw any surprise or worry for the Knight on behalf of his comment disappearing, and Visenya felt a smile form on her lips, her gaze turning from the twins to the others; it seemed Aegon was closer to the menfolk present than she'd assumed.
"I'll have you know, Jace," Aegon began, his tone a dry one. "That I bested Rhaenys and Visenya both not long after."
"Beating two Princesses." Rhaenys' remark was dry. "How impressive."
Another round of snickering came from the table, and Visenya found her eyes shifting from her big sister, to her brother, and then finally, to her own wine.
She sipped, and listened, and tried not to feel as if she were... out of place, or a burden, or something more akin to a child than a woman grown, and slowly, as the night progressed, and more drinks were had, the tension that'd built within her eased.
It helped that Aegon and Rhaenys never strayed far from her, and that every chance they got, their hands would find her own and give a squeeze. They weren’t all over her as once they’d been, but still, they offered affirmation and confidence when matters came up she knew little of, or memories most present shared were spoken of.
Their affection made her feel wanted, and needed, and it warmed her belly in a way the wine did not.
She wasn't sure why... she hoped.
Chapter 21: The Lists
Notes:
Hello hello, sorry for a bit of a delay, had some personal issues come up -- here we are with part 21 of 45.
In regards to the progression, up to Chapter 40 of 45 is being worked on as we speak, with edits finalised up to Chapter 28.
Thank you all very much for the lovely comments, I hope you all have a great coming weekend and thanks again!!!
Chapter Text
The next few days came and went in a blur, and before Visenya knew it, the first day of the joust was nearly upon them, that portion of the tournament set to begin the following morn.
As she had recently established with of her time in King's Landing, her routine was filled with lessons, time with Rickon and the rest of her family, and as of most recently, a near daily ride in the lands ‘round King’s Landing.
It wasn’t like the North — even under tree or on a hillside, the air lacked the crisp freshness of Winterfell or the North, and the wind didn't carry the chill as it did in the North.
Instead, it was entirely too warm, and the smell was… different. It felt as if the very air she breathed was heavier and denser, and it reminded her of the stink that came off the sea and the docks whenever the wind blew the wrong way.
Yet, it was her only time away from the castle and its many walls and its many people, and thus, she relished in it.
Even if it meant Rhaenys and Aegon would ride along, their horses beside her own, and the pair of them making her belly fluttery and her chest warm with naught but remarks or pleased looks as she rode.
With such thoughts in her mind, she swallowed and hopped from bed, her feet hitting the ground and a soft groan escaping her; the early-day’s sun had warmed the portion of floor so illuminated. The feeling was nice, and for a moment, she allowed herself to stand there and bask in the warmth.
Then her feet were moving, and she was heading towards her wardrobe.
She dressed herself, and, after slipping into her boots and donning her riding gloves, she grabbed the cloak Daenerys had gifted her.
She couldn't help but smile at the sight of the silver dragon clasp, and, with her fingers running over the scales and the claws, she pulled the cloak around herself. From there, she moved towards the door, and, before she could reach for the handle, a knock came, the sound a gentle one.
"Come in." Visenya called out after taking a few steps back.
When the door opened, her heart leapt of its own accord. Aegon's smile was a warm one. "Morning, 'Senya."
"Good morning." Why had he come? Wasn’t he due away soon?
"Your cloak looks beautiful on you." He stepped forward, and, without hesitation, his fingers ran over the silver dragon; she'd noticed how his eyes would go from the dragon to her, and his expression was one that sent butterflies through her stomach. "Did I ever tell you how much I love that color on you?"
"No." She murmured. Unlike with Theon or others that would make a desire for her known in some part, Aegon had this way of seeming genuine that struck her.
He hummed. "Well, I do." His smile grew. "You're gorgeous."
She looked away and felt her cheeks burn. "Thank you." Visenya slowly took a step back and glanced down.
"I wish I had the time to join you, but..."
"You've the joust this day."
"Mmhm." His lips pressed against her brow, and his arms wrapped about her.
"Go." Visenya pushed him back, and tried not to notice how his lips lingered, or how her own tingled.
Instead of doing as she said, his eyes went to the bolt of cloth upon her bed.
"Your favour. Would you give it to me?" He asked.
"My—" She felt her cheeks grow redder. "You're already wearing Rhaenys' favour. Don’t act the part of a greedy merchant.”
His eyes met her own as a little smirk came forth. "I’d have both of yours."
"It’d not be proper..."
"Please?"
Visenya stared at him, and her fingers twitched. He was spoiled, and so cocksure.
Aegon smiled when he caught her gaze.
With a roll of her eyes and a sigh, she stepped over to her bed and snatched up the cloth, a smile forming on her lips as her fingers ran over the pattern and she could hear Aegon's pleased hum.
"There's no need to look so satisfied with yourself." She told him, her tone dry as she fought to keep a pleased look from coming forth to her own face; the fact that it made him so happy made her feel similar.
"Oh, but there is, little sister."
Before she could do more than huff, he was gone, and, with a roll of her eyes, and a shake of her head, she left her chambers and started towards the stable.
Only, just before the doors, her path was blocked by Ser Jaime.
"Ser Jaime."
The man nodded. "Princess Visenya.” He gave her a small little smile, charming and Knightly. “Your sister’s already inside waiting for you.”
"Thank you." Visenya felt at ease with the man even i—
"My lovely little sister." Rhaenys' arms wrapped around her and a moment later, her cheek was being peppered with kisses as the older Princess was grinning down at her. "And how fares my Visenya this morning?"
"I'm well, Mandia." She responded with a dip of her head as she pulled away.
Rhaenys' arms sought out Visenya’s riding leathers and the older Princess' fingers traced patterns against the front thereof. "Is that so, my Visenya?"
"Rhaenys." Visenya huffed, and rolled her eyes, and let out a long, suffering, sigh. “Need I get a bucket of water so early in the morn?”
Rhaenys grinned, and kissed her forehead, and gave a squeeze of her shoulders. "I just needed my morn’s affection — shall we be off, my little sister? If you’re to be ever so impatient, then I must oblige you."
Visenya didn't dignify the tease with a response, and, instead, she stepped around the older Princess, and made her way inside, and to her mare's stall.
Rhaenys or Aegon — or both — were always quick to join her, and today was no different; with her big brother busy, her big sister was all too happy to take his place and ‘lead’ their little outing.
As soon as their horses were saddled and readied, and their guards assembled, it was off they went, the group passing through the gates, and then past the various peddlers and merchants and other groups that'd gathered near the castle.
They rode out with practiced ease and, for the first hour, she and Rhaenys chatted. Their words came in soft and sweet tones, and their conversation contained a mixture of the tournament, her life back home, and a bit about the differences between King's Landing and the North.
Dorne, as one might expect given Rhaenys and Aegon’s love for the place, also came up oft as could be.
When they finally settled into a companionable silence after a myriad of topics had been discussed, their horses were trotting along a worn road, the Princesses already on their way back, and a good portion of their guards ahead and behind.
Visenya wasn't sure if she should say what was on her mind, but, in the end, her curiosity won out, and the words escaped her before she could think better of it. "Mandia?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you enjoy the company of women?"
Rhaenys, for her part, was taken aback. "W-what?"
"I..." Visenya blushed, and swallowed, and her gaze fixed itself on the road ahead. "I was simply wondering… the… your lips. Mine. I know… some prefer women. I wondered if you do."
"Ah." Rhaenys' lips turned upwards, and a light laugh came from her. "And why would you ask such a question, my little sister?"
Visenya huffed, and her cheeks reddened, and, without meaning to, her fingers brushed her lips. "It’s a simple enough question.”
Couldn’t Rhaenys just answer? What more could she say?
"Perhaps, but not one I'd expected from you."
"So, you do?" Visenya swallowed and tried to press the matter.
"Enjoy the company of women?" Rhaenys smirked. "Certainly." Her sisters eyes were so lidded and… dark. Were they always so alluring?
Visenya raised her nose. "You've bedded some, then?"
"Maybe." Rhaenys made to play coy, and she leaned closer — close as one could whilst staying atop the horse between their legs. "But I can't say I dislike men — Aegon's ever so fun. I think you might've heard once before, hmm?"
Visenya flushed as her mind recalled of its own accord the memory she had of Aegon's thrusts into a sweaty, moaning Rhaenys. Even now, she could remember the sounds, and the scent, and the way her heart had thumped in her chest when seeing such a sight.
She couldn’t lie to Rhaenys and say she’d not pictured herself where her big sister had been; under his form… or betwixt the both of them, being worshipped and lavished. A treacherous part of her mind since seeing such a sight had been putting such an image forth near endlessly.
"Oh." Rhaenys grinned and reached a hand forward, her fingers brushing her cheek. "I didn't realize you were quite so interested, little sister."
"I'm not." She squeaked — it sounded terrible, so she cleared her throat, raised her head and leveled her gaze with Rhaenys’ as the words came out again, and with far more strength. “I'm not.”
"Then why all the questions if not asked from a desire to know?"
"Because... I was curious." Visenya had to know if she was alone in having such sinful, immoral and wanton thoughts.
If she alone could see herself with Rh— another woman, or if it ‘twas something that others felt too. Rhaenys’ words had only left her more conflicted. Especially when the attention had shifted to their brother.
He was the cause for much and more. Him and the manhood that’d been buried in Rhaenys.
That could very well end-up buried in her.
"Hmm." Rhaenys hummed and drew closer, enough so that their mares were nearly bumping one another with every step taken. "If you're really so curious, I could show you. Just you and I. No Aegon. He can wait — if not, we might forget this took place."
Visenya shivered and felt her thighs rub together. "I..." She paused to swallow, searching for words to respond with.
None came. A myriad of feelings were simply too overwhelming; they duelled and fought, but left her quiet.
"You blush so pretty when I speak to you." Rhaenys let out a coo, and then, finally, sat up; the smile she wore was victorious as it was fond, and her eyes shone. "Perhaps another day, little sister — now why don't we speak about the favour you gave away. Aegon, hmm? You gave him your favour, and he's to wear mine. I wonder what the realm will think."
Visenya cocked her head. How could Rhaenys move on so simply?
She was feeling heavy and hot, and the latter came not from the heat of the day. It came from conflict and desire… but that desire couldn’t be sated, and the former had seen a change in the winds of battle.
“Visenya? Little sister?” Rhaenys was a touch before her now, and looking over her shoulder. That long, dark and wind-swept hair, her pleased smirk and the violet eyes that matched her own rendered her silent. “Aegon. Your favour. Mine — are you well? We can turn ba—”
She shook her head. No, no that’d be queer. Rhaenys couldn’t know how greatly her words had affected her. “I’m well. Very well.” Visenya shifted in her saddle as she finally made to answer her sister. "Isn't it normal for a sibling's favour to be worn in a tourney?"
Rhaenys giggled, and she imagined for more than one reason. "Do you not what a favour entails, my little sister?"
"It's a token." Visenya shrugged. "The Knight or Lord in question fights for the honour of the person who gave it."
"True enough," Rhaenys dipped her head, but that coy look never left her eye, and her smile grew wider, and her amusement became even more apparent. "Ofttimes it shows affection or genuine favour for the wearer. For example, when our sweet cousin Daenerys gives one of hers to Lord Monford, it shows how fond she is of him. No other'll be given the same treatment."
"And Aegon... knew this?"
"Oh, little sister," Rhaenys giggled and shook her head. "No doubt he did."
Visenya sighed. These two were ever so frustrating.
"No need to pout, little sister. Aegon has the favour of us both, and he'll fight all the harder for it. Mayhaps Father'll have two crowns made if Aegon wins the lists — wouldn't that be a sight?"
Visenya rolled her eyes. "You and he are going to have me going grey before I'm six and ten."
Rhaenys laughed and reached out to pat her cheek. "Oh, don't be so dramatic. It's cute, your innocence. It makes me wish to hold you close and kiss you and keep you all to myself."
Visenya groaned.
"Now, now, little sister. Don't fret. I won't." Rhaenys held up a hand then. “No more teasing henceforth. Not until the evening… or we see Aegon again. Whichever comes first."
"I’ll be having words with him later." Visenya would speak carefully, but if he and Rhaenys could be cross with her actions towards Robb — minor as they were — she could be the same in return.
Rhaenys' giggles continued, and, despite her frustration and the flush on her cheeks, the rest of their ride passed in pleasant enough conversation, the pair talking and laughing as they made their way; the latter came after the former, when Rhaenys’ teasing was mostly set aside, and her big sister saw fit to be her usual sweet and charming self.
As ever, Visenya was drawn to the tales her big sister spoke of, and the things she said, and the way her words rolled off her tongue; she had a certain charm, her Mandia, and it wasn't just Aegon who seemed drawn to it.
All who listened would be captivated, and Visenya couldn't help but imagine her sister atop a throne; she could be sweet and gentle, passionate and kind, but like the sun above, Visenya knew Rhaenys had a deep fire within her. She'd seen those flames be fanned, and the heat that they could bring.
Visenya cast one last look her sister's way as King's Landing grew nearer. Her eyes took in the way the sun caught the black of her hair, and how the rays illuminated her tanned skin. Seldom could it be said that somebody was truly a near perfect representation of beauty, but Rhaenys could have a case made for her easier than most in all of history.
She looked away, but not before Rhaenys caught her looking and offered a smile.
A sigh not of the exasperated nature came from her lips, and her eyes went to the road ahead... and yet, despite herself, a smile formed on her face.
No matter what day she woke, where the sun was in the sky or the moon, she would always wake with her family so near, and their love, so ever-present in even the most mundane of actions.
Later in the day and with the sun nearly at its peak, after she'd washed in scented oils and flowers, Visenya was sat at the edge of the bed, a book in hand as she awaited Rhaenys' or Mother's arrival.
Aegon and the lists... she had to admit, there was no small amount of eagerness and excitement within her. To see a joust, nay, to see dozens and dozens of men riding hard with lance in hand was something she'd only read of and imagined; the tales and descriptions in books were fine enough, but to witness it would be a thing of wonder, and she couldn't wait.
Still, despite her anticipation, a certain worry did settle in the back of her mind. She'd heard the tales, and known of the injuries that came from a tournament, and she had no wish to see her brother, or any other for that matter, hurt.
Well, mayhaps if Ser Cletus was competing she'd not mind if he'd receive a wound to the head. If that were to occur, perhaps he'd achieve some sort of common sense and manners. Many a Southron seemed to have gazes that’d linger, but few felt as dirty as his.
A knock came with an announcement soon after, and Visenya was brought out of her thoughts. "Come in."
The door opened, and Daenerys stepped through, her silver hair a lovely braid. "Vis."
"Dany." She smiled. "Are you excited?"
Daenerys gave a nod, and she moved towards the bed, her hands resting on the back of her dress as she settled in front of her. "I'm fond of the horses... but the blood... I don't believe I'll ever grow to love that part."
Visenya grimaced, and she nodded despite a sick sort of fascination coming forth; so the tales she'd heard and read were true — that seemed a rarity, truth about the Southron folk coming in the North.
"I've seen worse, I suppose." Her twin murmured. "But there's something so... impersonal, and sad, and strange, about watching men break their bodies for a crown or a purse."
"Don't some do it for wives?" Visenya asked.
Daenerys snorted. "Some might tell themselves that. Most that do seldom win the crown that'd see them earn the attention of the woman they desire. There's many a tale of scorn that comes from a tourney and the wagers or matches thereof.I'm sure many more I don't know of."
Visenya frowned and tilted her head. This was beginning to sound less interesting than she'd read.
"Still, a good show it'll be, aye?"
"It will." Daenerys' eyes met her own, then she offered a hand.
At that, Visenya said but a word. "Wheelhouse?"
"As if Elia'd allow otherwise." Daenerys scoffed, and a moment later, they were on their way.
Ser Loras, Dacey, Ser Grandfather; all kept up, with the middle of their number promising to keep Winter out of trouble by way of the Royal Kennelmaster's Daughter — Visenya imagined the 'daughter' being chosen was no accident.
The wheelhouse was as grand and comfortable as ever it was, the interior a lovely space, and the cushioned seats a delight, but it wasn't what the Princess was looking at.
It was the view outside the windows that caught her eye, the people and the buildings and the sights. From within, and with the design that did much to conceal her from those onlookers, she let her eyes wander their number. No one person seemed the same, and so many seemed well-off, wearing clothes that weren't ragged or worn, and smiling and crying out as if the Royals' wheelhouse and Father at the head of their caravan was the most heavenly of sights.
It made her wonder if those present and far from the arena were even there for the Tourney in the first place, or if it were the spectacle of seeing their King that'd seen them flock here to improved lives, their cheers a mix of love and admiration. Father's presence and his ability to command such affection and adoration without a word being said... she had no doubt why his rule was a prosperous one.
When the wheelhouse finally came to a stop some time later, and as she only passingly minded the conversation Rhaenys, 'Naerys, Elia or the others present, she and her twin stepped outside, and were led up and away, to the Royal quarters the arena possessed.
Once inside, and after her eyes had taken in the various furnishings and the way the seats seemed to rise higher and higher, her gaze went towards the arena itself.
In the stands that surrounded them, and with her eyes taking in the various men and women, and the colours that stood out amongst them, her gaze went to the squires. They were running amuck, the various sigils and colours of their Masters on their surcoats, and the lances and horses and armour held by their arms.
Then, her eyes went to the centre. There was that line of wood that ran down the middle to keep separate the two men that'd joust, and the two lanes, and the various flags and banners and decorations.
She could hardly wait; Visenya turned and gave a gentle tug on her mother's sleeve when she saw she wasn't speaking with Father. "Mother?"
"Yes, little dragon?"
"Where's Aegon if not down below?"
Mother reached out one hand only slightly larger than her own, and gently turned 'Senya's head to look back, into the chambers at their back. "He's being helped into his armour as we speak. He'll be here soon."
As if called by his name, her brother entered the chambers.
"Ah." Father said with a nod. "There he is. All prepared, my son?"
"I am, father." Aegon bowed, and in doing so, he showed off the twin favours he wore; one on his left arm, and one on the right. "Shall I go and ready myself for the start down below, or is there something you wish of me?"
"I only wish to bid you good fortune. I know you'll do us proud, and the realm will sing your praises, as will your family."
"Will we?" Rhaenys giggled and her smile was sly. "We'll see, Father."
"If my dear brother wins." Visenya would join in the jesting.
Aegon laughed and stepped closer, and gently, he pressed his lips to her forehead after leaning down. "Is that doubt I hear, little sister? I'll have you know, the day is young, and I'll give the realm a show it won't soon forget."
Rhaenys extended from her seat and wrapped her arms 'round him. "Good fortune, my love."
"Thank you, Rhaenys." Aegon's fingers brushed their sister’s cheeks, and he leaned forward, his lips pressing to her own in a gentle and soft kiss.
Visenya would've spoken or jested, but, for whatever reason, she felt her words die before they could reach her tongue and instead, her eyes fixed on the sight... until the two parted after a second's time. A look away — to Mother and Father for sanity's sake — revealed the both of them to be smiling; that wasn't what she'd expected.
Could betrothed truly kiss so openly?
She was left wondering that exact question when Aegon pressed a kiss to the cheek nearer to him; he took his leave soon after.
"Aegon gets to pick who he faces, Father?" Visenya's attention went back to her father.
"Indeed." Father answered, his eyes moving from the men down below, to her. "It'll be the opening tilt. What grander start than to have the Crown Prince himself take his position on the field with a chosen opponent?"
"Who will he choose?"
Father gave a chuckle. "If I know him, it'd be the Knight who proved bothersome to you. What was his name again?"
"Ser Cletus." Visenya murmured.
"Ah, yes. He's far from a favourite for most, and I know better than most that dragons hold grudges." Father shook his head, and glanced towards Aegon, his attention gone back to her Brother as he rode towards the line of Knights, all mounted, all in full plate and mail, their colours standing out against the browns and greens of the field.
"And now," the announcer cried from the opening just below theirs. "For the first bout, our Crown Prince, Aegon of House Targaryen, son of His Grace, King Rhaegar of House Targaryen, first of his Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, and Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, will face Ser Cletus of House Yronwood."
At that, a cheer rose up, and a murmur went through the crowd.
Visenya's eyes went to the spot to their right next, where she saw the Tyrell men — Garth and Willas —- flashing coin. The sun above had reflected off their gold, and the flash was visible enough for her to notice, even at a distance; they weren't exchanging it, nor were they looking at her.
"A wager." Rhaenys' voice came from so near, that 'Senya swore she could feel her lips tickle her ear. "Many, be they smallfolk or noblemen, place bets on the outcome. Garth and Willas have been doing so for as long as I can recall, as have others. Even Father has, on occasion."
"Oh." Visenya wished she'd have known earlier. If she had, perhaps she could've asked Mother or Father for a small coin purse... a chill made her shift at the thought.
Targaryen and Princess she might be, why should they give her coin or spend all that they had thus far on her? She was just a second daughter they'd had for less than three moons' time.
"Is everything alright, Senya?" Rhaenys whispered. "You seem... distracted... or worried. Do you think Aegon will fall?"
It was a convenient excuse, that which Rhaenys had said, and one that would be swept aside with nary a thought; she doubted her feelings of being unworthy were a thing any of them would understand or expect.
So she smiled, pretty and wide, and her voice came out soft and sweet. "I'm fine. I only worry for Aegon. I hear the lists are the most dangerous part." Gods, she could recall some of the writings of past tourneys; they seemed so glorious.
"He'll be fine." Rhaenys patted her leg, and her fingers gave a soft squeeze, her tone comforting and confident. "Trust me."
Visenya's eyes went back to the arena after she'd given a nod, and she watched as Aegon moved into the lane.
It seemed Father was right. Aegon’s first choice was the man that'd earned her ire... and so the desire to see Ser Cletus bested once again sprang forth.
She knew not how long she sat there, but it wasn't until her brother took his spot, his horse and lance at the ready, and his gaze looking out towards the Yronwood knight, did the murmurs begin to quiet; anticipation seemed to take hold of all, and she heard not the final words said by those who'd act as the tourney masters.
Her eyes simply stayed on Aegon.
He was a dragon, her big brother, and, in his armour, and with his sword strapped to his hip and the lance in hand, he was every bit a Knight and Prince. It brought forth that heat that would pool in her core, and, despite the layers she wore and the seat she occupied with so many nearby, her thighs... they sought friction to alleviate that feeling.
"Are you nervous, little sister?"
Again, she'd been noticed.
"No." She shook her head.
"No? You seem tense." Rhaenys giggled and brushed her fingers over her arm. "Don't worry. He's been doing this for years, and he's bested more experienced men before—" Her sister leaned closer then, and whispered into her ear words that saw 'Senya go fully still. "—Mayhaps if he wins, you and I can show him just how prou—"
"Girls," Elia's voice was soft, but firm. "Aegon's about to begin. Gossip can wait. You'll have plenty of time when the lists are over for the day."
Rhaenys sighed and drew back, but the hand on her leg gave a soft squeeze, and the fleeting moment's time 'Senya glanced her sister's face showed conversation would most definitely be had later.
Then, the sound of the horn came, and her attention was stolen by Aegon.
His horse started and his lance went out, the wood held steady as it neared Ser Cletus, and his armour clattered with the movement; he was fast, and her heart thumped harder and harder as the speed of the horses grew. In no time at all, her brother was nary a second's gallop away.
The Yronwood Knight was fast, but Aegon was faster. His lance met Ser Cletus' shoulder, and the wood snapped, splintering, but the force carried on, and the other man was struck off his horse with a violent wrenching of his body. She watched as Ser Cletus’ form fell to the ground with a hard crash after initially taking so awkward an angle — Ser Cletus' lance went off wildly, rolling some distance as his own body hit the dirt, but he was up in a flash.
"That's our brother!" Rhaenys cheered.
Visenya couldn't help but smile and rise from her seat; the only one of the Targaryens to do so. Her cheers joined Rhaenys' own, and the smile on her face was wide and happy — there was still so much more to come, she knew as much, but this... this was a joust! Gods, how she’d dreamt of viewing such wonders.
And to think Aegon had unseated Ser Cletus, and neither his mount nor her brother had been hurt.
Aegon was no rider like her, but he seemed more comfortable with horse flesh betwixt his legs than most and she couldn’t help but notice that as brother's mount trotted 'round, and his gaze seemed to go to hers; Visenya could all but see the smile beneath his helm.
One meant for her and Rhaenys alone, for it was they who held the whole of his attention.
Aegon would go on to joust twice more, emerging victorious each time he faced off against some minor Knight or Lord she didn't recognise, nor care to remember the name of.
'Twasn't only Aegon that proved victorious either, for many a man that she'd taken notice of appeared to be riding with confidence and strength, and they'd bested the men they faced, sending their opponents flying from the saddle or to the dirt, the crowd going wild at the spectacle and the thrill and the bloodshed... when it'd occur.
Some had bled, and their wounds were seen to by maesters, but none were too gravely hurt or harmed.
All in all, for the first day, there were no serious injuries, and that was all Visenya cared to know, or hope for; that could still change too, given after the 'official' matches were finished, the menfolk had taken to having small competitions amongst themselves, a chance to prove their strength and skill... or fight over a lady. Honour seemed a factor too.
'Senya looked to Aegon — he'd arrived with Ser Loras and Ser Jonothor not but a few minutes ago; the former having won his third joust, and the latter emerging victorious for his second. She'd been ever-so proud of her brother, and her Knight.
"Did you enjoy it?" Rhaenys asked, her fingers brushing through her hair.
"Aye. It was..."
"Exciting?" Her sister giggled.
"And fun." Visenya finished. "I want to learn."
Rhaenys' response couldn't be given before Father spoke up, his attention swiftly switching from Aegon, to her. "Lyanna passed along so much to you, it'd seem. Riding, archery... and now a desire to joust. I mind not the former two, sweet daughter, but the latter — that, I'm afraid, would not do. Jousting holds within it too great a chance of injury."
"I've ridden horses all my life, and Ser Jaime said the greatest part of a joust is the horsemanship. I could handle that, couldn't I?"
Rhaegar shared a look with Elia; one that contained a secret meaning. Mother and Father both looked to her after some few seconds' time. "Later."
"Join us for supper." Mother added. "We'll speak on it then — bring those lovely pups too. We'd love to see them again."
She didn't wish to wait until later, and the urge to demand answers and ask them here and now was strong, but... if they would speak of it after or during a private meal, then it must be important enough to warrant waiting. Mayhaps they’d promise her a future chance.
"Very well, Mother, Father." Visenya gave a dip of her head, and she had not the time to pout or frown, for Rhaenys drew her attention back, her hands pulling her close.
"Come, little sister. We'll ride back with Aegon and hear tell of his victories."
"But, don't we have to go with the wheelhouse?" 'Senya sent a look over her shoulder at Mother, hoping for assistance. She didn't desire riding in the heat for all to see, no matter how much she'd like the company of her siblings.
Elia gave a small shake of her head. "Your sister can accompany you, sweet daughter. You'll be safe. The guards will ensure that."
"See? Come on, little sister." Rhaenys smiled, and, gently, tugged her along, her fingers intertwining with her own. "Let us get back."
The ride back to the keep was filled with Aegon's tales and boasting of his accomplishments and prowess. If not for his loudness and animation in recollecting the details of his victories, the eyes and shouts would've overwhelmed her; she'd adjusted to so much, and so well, but the crowds seemed something that'd not cease in startling her. There’d be calls of love and blessings given, screams from children that desired naught but a look, and on occasion, the calls to bless babes as mothers and fathers alike held them up. It was far from what she’d ever so much as expected.
When they finally arrived back, the horses were led away by the stableboys whilst she and the rest of her family were whisked away, to Maegor's Holdfast.
Only inside the place was she able to relax and settle into one of the many chairs of her chambers, her hand going to Winter's fur whilst the wolf curled up on her lap; he’d sought her out as soon as he’d heard her enter.
Aegon and Rhaenys, naturally, had accompanied her and were both present and talking — the two of them had their hands in the other's, and they'd not ceased since they'd ridden here.
'Senya's thoughts went back to the words her sister had said before Aegon's joust.
Was her sister serious?
Did she mean to... celebrate his victories? Was she going to make Visenya kiss Aegon to join in on the celebrating?
The mere idea made her shift, and, if she'd not known better, she'd have thought a chill ran down her spine.
So she rose and started, slowly, towards one of the backrooms of her chambers. Her feet were bare, and her fingers brushed along the wall and the various paintings, and tapestries as she edged further and further away. Winter’s prodding after her helped to ground her… until a voice broke the relative silence.
"Where are you going, Senya?" Rhaenys' voice came soft and inquisitive.
"I desire a bath. I'll never grow accustomed to the heat and the sweat."
"Would you like me to assist?"
Visenya stopped, then she shook her head and swallowed, her hair swooshing. "No. No, you can stay with Aegon — I, you two enjoy yourselves." She just needed a moment to recollect herself.
"Oh, we will, won't we, brother?" Rhaenys giggled and Visenya didn't need to look back to see her sister kiss their brother. The sound alone was proof enough of her doing so.
Aegon's voice was warm and happy, the smile on his face clear to hear in his words. "Return soon, little sister. I never fin—" he coughed, and his tone switched. “—ished... tales."
Visenya nodded, and, not daring to turn and meet their gaze, she rushed from the room.
Once her bath was ready, and the tub filled, she was able to settle, and relax, the warmth easing her muscles and the tension that’d come of its own volition.
There was no one around, and the guards stationed outside would ensure her privacy, and that none entered without her say or that of her sibling’s, so her fingers began to wander as her ears made certain she wasn’t being walked in on.
First, her thighs spread and her nails brushed along her skin. The gooseflesh it found only served to make her lean into the feelings as they came forth.
And so one hand went higher, and cupped one pale breast from the base. A gentle kneading and the occasional brush across her pebbled nipple made her eyes roll. When her other came to rest between her legs as her thoughts turned to what her siblings were very likely doing, gods did her mind race.
Had the two already begun their celebration? Was it not merely kisses and gentle touches, or had Rhaenys' intentions been far beyond?
The thought of kissing her brother, of pressing her lips to his own and feeling his touch on her body... it was strange, and yet... if Rhaenys loved it, surely there was something that was enjoyable.
Visenya let out a shuddering breath and closed her eyes as her lower hand spread her flower and sought out her pearl; she could picture herself, her and her brother and sister. The way the two kissed and embraced, and, if only for a moment, she wished to know how it'd feel.
How would her lips feel on his?
Would she like his embrace?
Would he like her touch?
A shiver was pulled forth when her middle finger traced from the base of her slit to the top, pausing to roll her nub. Her other hand switched breasts at the same time she began to pleasure herself more urgently; her thoughts raced and formed an image.
How would he react, when she took hold of him and began to… to stroke him, or if she pressed him against the be—
"Little sister?" The voice had her eyes flying open, her hands pulling free and her body sitting up — a wave of water rushed from her and onto the floor, the sound filling the room and the heat on her face rising.
"Rhaenys?"
"Sorry for interrupting." Rhaenys smirked, and stepped into the room, her fingers unlacing her dress. "I only thought it'd be nice if we could take our bath together. Don't you agree?"
"Y-Yes. I—" Visenya stammered and her eyes watched, her mouth going dry as her sister undressed and stepped into the tub. She'd only seen her naked once, and…
She looked away, hoping Rhaenys hadn’t realised her staring or seen what she’d previously been doing. Her hands moved to the soap, and without thinking, she began to scrub. As she did so, she gave a question to her sister. “I thought Aegon was with you? Did something happen, or… why aren't the two of you celebrating?"
"Celebrating? Oh, that." Rhaenys waved one hand through the air, and, with her other, began to reach for the soap Visenya had been using, her fingers brushing along her skin and breasts, and her following words teasing. "We shared a drink and a few moments without you, but not long after he made clear his desire to go and wash. So, I thought of coming here instead, and washing with you to make the most of our time — you’ll drink with us and share a meal after, right, little sister?"
Visenya initially made to nod, but then she paused, and shook her head. “Mother and Father said I'm to join them. Winter and Rickon too. We'll have a private meal in their solar. They've things they wish to discuss, or so I was told."
"Ah, I see." Rhaenys nodded, and she sighed, the sound soft and relaxed as Visenya felt. Then a giggle escaped her sister. "Then, I'll have to wait until tomorrow. Still, even without Aegon, we can have fun, can't I?"
Her sister's hands reached and grasped the brush that hung nearby, and she pulled it close, her body scooting closer.
"What are you doing?"
"Washing you." Rhaenys smiled, her fingers dipping the bar and brush both into the water, and, once suds had appeared, she moved it along Visenya's skin, the motion gentle and slow. "Do you mind?"
'Senya cocked her head and glanced her sister's eyes; their gazes met, and, in that moment, it was like she could see into Rhaenys' mind.
There was a wantonness that seemed ever-present to be certain, but it wasn't the only thing she saw, for her sister's expression was warm and welcoming, and had within it a sense of happiness.
It was all save for the formermost that won her over, and so, after a moment's pause, she nodded her head. “Don’t act queer, or you’ll lose your rights.” A warning was deserved.
Rhaenys gave a pleased smile and she moved her soapy hands across Visenya’s shoulders and back to start with the brush following close behind. Her motions were careful and thorough, and in places where tensions would most oft be felt, Rhaenys would go so far as to knead her muscles.
As the minutes went by, Visenya felt her eyes closing, and the heat of the water and the room fading away.
If not for her sister's voice, and the softness of her touch, Visenya would've sworn she'd been dreaming.
Visenya held in a giggle as she grew nearer and nearer to Rickon, her eyes narrowing and her steps slow.
She was almost there... her pup distracted by a bird on the balcony, and her arms outstretched.
It was just another step or two before she was about to grasp her little Rickon, when Winter's brother darted out and nibbled at her toes. That random puppy startled Visenya enough that she squeaked and jumped away. Rickon's head turned her way and a most enchanting laugh escaped him.
She was opening her mouth to offer pouty words, when, in a second's time from her gasp, the door at her rear was opened and Ser Loras as well as her Lady Bear were in the room, each with a hand on the hilts of their weapons.
"Is everything alright, Princess?" Ser Loras asked, his gaze darting around the place, seeking whatever might've startled her enough to cause a yelp.
"Aye, it is." She smiled, her cheeks flushed. "Just a pup trying to be mischievous."
Ser Loras looked confused until he spied the two Direwolf cubs, and then he gave a nod and dipped his head, his voice polite. "Apologies for disturbing, Princess. We'll take our leave."
"No." She shook her head. "It is fine." Her fingers reached and took hold of Rickon's. "We were about to depart anyway, weren't we, sweetling?"
The little boy gave a nod and grinned, and as ever he did, he hurried over to her and held open his arms, his message clear; it was a request to be carried.
One Visenya granted without complaint, her hands moving and scooping him up and into her arms. "Ready?"
Rickon responded with a hug and a kiss, his voice muffled by her neck as he burrowed his face there against. "Mmhm."
"Then let's be off, little one."
Her fingers patted his back and she glanced over at Ser Loras and her Lady Bear, giving a nod of her head, and gesturing towards the door; the two gave her a bow, and, wordlessly, walked at her sides, a hand's width's distance from her, the pups and brother.
They walked and walked, and, when the time came and they reached Mother and Father's chambers, Visenya felt her nerves returning; she knew not what they were going to speak of; what if Father wished to express his displeasure at her desire to joust or ride?
She'd doubted it'd ever been so much as a possibility, her jousting, but had that wish been too bold to even say aloud?
Or mayhaps she was paranoid and the talk had only to do with Mother — her birth mother — or other such things.
Whatever the case, and, whatever the topic, she'd find out soon.
Prince Lewyn announced her presence and the doors opened, revealing Mother and Father sitting side by side at the table, their heads bowed close and their words low, but, as they spotted her, the two of them turned and smiled.
"Sweet daughter." Elia gestured to a chair and her words came soft. "Join us. Your little pup can have a seat next to you if he'd like, or he can sit in your lap. Gods know I was loathe to let go of Aegon or Rhaenys when they were that small. I'd sit them upon my lap and hold them close as could be — and I'm sure your little pup enjoys such a thing."
"I do!" Rickon's head bobbed.
"Very well." Visenya smiled, and, whilst Ser Loras and Dacey went to join Ser Aemon and Prince Lewyn, she made her way to the chair, and settled Rickon onto her lap, her hand moving to his curls and her fingers brushing through them.
"What'd you think of the lists?" Rhaegar asked, his eyes on her.
"I enjoyed them, Father. You and Mother must be proud of Aegon." She smiled, the memory of her first viewing of the lists and her brother's victory fresh in her mind
"Very proud." Elia nodded. "Though, there's much and more that we're proud of him for — the same could be said of you and Rhaenys, though our eldest is troublesome as always."
"She's spirited, I'd say." Visenya gave an understanding smile, hoping her words hadn't caused offence.
Elia's eyes rolled, but the gesture was one of amusement. "Spirited is very polite of you, and a word I'd have used for you, my sweet."
"Such was the reason we'd invited you to sup with us." Father finished. "You have many questions, I know, and the Gods know I'd like much and more time with you. Alas, the Realm calls me forth from sunrise 'til sunset, but I shall make time where I can. A King can be selfish, on occasion, I think."
"Hardly selfish, my love, more so dedicated." Mother's fingers brushed her Father's. "But, this is no matter for dinner. We wish to get to know our youngest, and, should the chance present itself, we'd also like to hear your desires. Whatsoever they are. You've asked for so little in the time since you arrived, sweet daughter, and, as your parents, we'd give anything."
"That reminds me." Father added. "Your sister and brother's gifts will arrive shortly. I believe they desire the morrow's evening with you."
Elia waved it off. "Let Rhaenys and Aegon worry on that. You should tell her the tale you'd made mention of earlier."
Rhaegar smiled and gave a nod, his hands going to the table, and his eyes going from her to Rickon, and then her again. "Did Eddard ever speaking of the tourney at Harrenhal, sweet daughter?"
"Only vaguely, Father." Visenya knew only that many called it the greatest tourney in history, and, more importantly, the reason her Aunt Lyanna was abd— that her Mother had decided to go South with... Father.
"You've heard of the Knight of the Laughing Tree then, I take it?"
"I have. It was a mystery that the realm hasn't ceased to ponder, no?" Her former father had spoken of it on occasion, though only briefly, and in a strange manner; it was like he knew more than he'd revealed.
"Two of the few who know the truth are sitting right here. Isn't that so, my love?"
Elia chuckled, the sound low. "So it is. Lyanna'd never have you nor I forget that day."
Rhaegar shook his head, his eyes twinkling. "Indeed." His hand went to the table, and, slowly, he began to trace a circle. "The Knight we speak of thrice jousted, and thrice won, and then my father took insult as his Knights were defeated and the sigil of the shield made a supposed jest at his expense. He ordered the mystery Knight brought forth, but, only the knight's shield was found, and he became naught but a tale."
Mother's snickering at the word 'he' was noticed, and Visenya began to suspect what he was about to reveal.
"But the truth is that the Knight of the Laughing Tree was no man." Father continued. "He was a woman."
"Mother." Visenya said then, and both Rhaegar and Elia nodded.
"Lyanna's riding was so apparent to her brothers, but to me, 'twas a sight beyond compare. The way she rode, and handled her mount, 'twas like watching the Warrior come alive before my very eyes. Elia made certain she was treated to a similar showing. I believe Ser Jonothor still bears a scar, and Ser Whent was nearly unhorsed."
"She was good, I take it?" Visenya giggled, the thought of a small woman taking down two men twice her size amusing.
"She was the finest rider there, and a great horsewoman. I know I've seen little enough of your riding, but I know 'tis a skill you've inherited." Father paused then, and looked her over with a small smile. "The Gods have blessed you with her looks, her strength and her talents. I needn't wait to be reunited with her to know she's exceedingly proud."
"I wish I could've known her." She whispered the words, the thought of her birth mother bringing tears to her eyes; she focused on stroking Rickon's back and his hair as she fought the urge to let the wetness in her eyes fall.
Father rose then, but rather than seeking her out, he moved to his and Mother's bed. Once there, he reached out and withdrew a cloth-covered… item of some sort that Visenya could not make out.
Father brought it over and, gently, placed it before her, the care he displayed making her curious; he could afford the repair of any item in the world, and it’d make not a dent in the royal treasury.
"A gift. One I hope you'll enjoy."
She hesitated, and only moved when she received a nod from him.
The first thing she saw was a crown of dark hair, and the grey eyes staring at her.
"This..."
"Your mother." Father finished.
She'd never seen a portrait of her birth mother, but the image staring back at her was so perfect that it seemed the work of a God.
The painting was so vivid and detailed. Her hands went to the frame, and her fingers brushed along the edges before they drifted down to the woman's cheek; she had such a similar look about her — not to mention her nose and her mouth. They seemed identical.
If not for the colouring, she could've passed as her mother — Visenya froze then.
Was that the reason her uncle had dyed her hair? Why he’d allowed her to practice archery or ride ‘til she was exhausted? Was it because she resembled her mother so closely that he sought to make her naught but a shadow of a ghost?
She blinked, and forced her eyes to focus on the woman's face, her thoughts drifting to the painting, and the woman that looked back.
Visenya swallowed and her hand fell, the cloth falling away and her eyes turning to her parents, and the tears she’d previously tried to halt, fell, her voice cracking. "Thank you."
"Oh, sweet daughter." Elia's arms came around her, and her lips pressed to her temple, the kiss tender and gentle. "You're more than welcome."
"It's a perfect likeness, I think." Rhaegar agreed, his fingers brushing her back and the motion soothing.
"I-I'm sorry. I d-don't mean to cry, I..." She stammered and hiccupped, her breath coming and going rapidly.
"There's nothing to apologize for, my sweet. It's a happy cry, I think, no?" Elia asked, and when Visenya gave a nod, her Mother spoke again. "Then, cry all you wish. Let it out, and allow yourself to feel. You've been alone for far too long. The Gods know, 'tis not right."
"Mmhm." Rhaegar murmured, his voice a gentle rumble.
As the minutes went by and she calmed, a warmth filled her, the feeling of safety and happiness, and, when she pulled back, and glanced from one parent to the other, she knew her smile was brighter than it'd been in years.
Parents. Siblings. Friends.
She had all she’d ever desired.
"So, my sweet," Father spoke again, his hand going to her cheek and his fingers brushing the skin. "I imagine you'd like to know just what you can, and can't be permitted to do, no?"
"Oh, my love, not now." Mother sighed. "Let her be, for just a while. I'd rather we save anything officially-oriented for the morrow. Let her drink and tell us all about herself, and in turn, let us answer anything she might ask of our family — your mother and Uncle Aemon included. We'll discuss her future and such later. Agreed?"
Father hesitated, but the prolonged look at Mother and her expression was enough to have him relent. "Very well."
Mother's grin was triumphant, and Visenya felt a giggle escaping her; their dynamic was so different than that of Lady Catelyn and her uncle. Less serious, far less, and the degree of affection they openly showed one another was so much greater.
Visenya opened her mouth, but then, Rickon gave a gentle tug at her dress and her attention shifted, the boy's words soft. "Hungry, sister." he’d had his head burrowed in her chest, but now, he seemed more awake.
"Would you like something to eat, sweetling?" She asked, her head turning towards her Father; she sought his permission to feed her little pup while they continued their conversation — mayhaps she'd have a few bites too.
Rhaegar nodded. "I'd have you eat as much as you wish."
"We had prepared dishes from all the Kingdoms." Elia explained, her fingers reaching and brushing along Rickon's cheek, and then his curls, the motion slow and gentle. "The servants will bring them, and we can eat and drink our fill. Sweets too — don't you both have a love for sweets?"
Rickon gave a happy nod and Visenya felt a smirk cross her features, the memory of a cake shared in the gardens with her siblings fresh. "I enjoy sweets. So does Rickon."
"Then we shall feast!" Mother's eyes turned from her to Prince Lewyn. "Have brought to us the dishes. All of them. We'll start with the ones from the Crownlands, and move our way through the Seven. And make sure there are plenty of desserts and juices. Plenty."
"As you say, Your Grace." The Prince then moved to see Mother's orders carried out.
As the moments went by, the three of them began to chat and share stories, and, before Visenya knew it, the table was covered in food. Her precious Rickon was eating a sweetcake, his little face covered in sugar. It was adorable, the sight, and she couldn't resist the urge to wipe his cheeks and his mouth; a losing battle as it was, given he was eager to keep eating.
Mother and Father, for their part, seemed eager to see her try each and every wine, juice or dish, and, whilst she was more than willing to comply, the sheer number and variety of the dishes was somewhat daunting. It seemed a scaled-down feast, and even then, greater than any Winterfell had hosted.
As she was handed her fourth cup of wine — Dornish Red, and like the three before it, only truly half-full from the moment Mother had seen her drinking, a plate of lemon cakes was placed before her. Sansa would've been thrilled, had she been here, her little cousin's love for sweets well-known.
"A sweet you've had numerous times, I suspect, but one that most favour all the same."
"Thank you." She smiled and reached for the plate, but a question occurred to her, and she hesitated.
"What is it, sweetling?" Elia asked, her own plate empty.
"I..." Visenya swallowed, hoping her words wouldn't be misinterpreted. "It's just, this seems like a lot. Are you sure this isn't too much, or... it doesn't seem right to waste so much food."
Elia gave a snort and waved it off, the sound amused. "It isn't a waste, sweetling. Not a one. If any go uneaten, it'll either be given to the servants or passed out to our household guards. Don't worry so."
"You should eat as much and more, my little wolf-dragon." Father said. "You're even more lithe than Daenerys. You need the food."
Visenya felt a pout form as she aided Rickon in making a plate; she knew his favourites, which made it a relatively easy task. "I'm not small, Father." It seemed her whole family thought she was too slight of build.
"Oh?" He chuckled and leaned forth, a smile just as charming as Aegon would wear gracing his lips. "You're shorter than Elia and Lyanna, and of a similar height to my own sweet sister, only of Lyanna's build, as you can see—" he gestured back to the portrait and the smile he wore grew as his eyes went to and from, and his hand waved over her frame. "I worry you'll prove fragile if not given food and proper care."
"Fragile?" She repeated, her head tilting and her brow furrowing. "I rode for hours on end and would spar my cousin, Father. You said yourself, Mother was fierce. To thrice win against knights, Mother's skill was great."
"Just like her." Elia let out a laugh and took a bite of her cake, her gaze drifting from her to Father.
"In every way, it'd seem." Father murmured, and the look he gave her was full of pride. "Still, perhaps a joust in which you participate can wait some deal of time — post your twentieth name day, mayhaps.”
Mother rolled her eyes. Her attention shifted to 'Senya next. "Ride as much as you'd like, sweet girl. Practice your archery or spar with your siblings, and this sweet little pup in your hands is always welcome at our table. A babe shouldn't be left alone, least of all one so sweet as him."
"He's very sweet." Visenya began to run her fingers through Rickon's hair, the strands soft and warm as the giggles that escaped him.
"You'd make a fine mother. I hope you've a babe of your own one day soon. Or two, or three, or however many you want." Mother added.
"I..." Visenya's face felt hot. When words failed her, she could only stare, the thought of marriage and babes foreign to her; her former-father had never even considered such, and the few times she'd thought of it, it'd only been in relation to a distant, dreamy future — a Prince of a land that existed not, or men from the pages of history.
"I'm sorry, sweetling." Mother shook her head and laughed. "That was bold of me. But, 'tis something we'd have discussed regardless, so no matter."
Father gave a little nod then. "I told you we'd not wed you off, sweet girl, and I meant it. You belong with your family, and not betrothed to a man who'd see you naught but an ornament. There's a reason there's a history amongst our House for marrying within."
Visenya's hands tightened on her little brother. "Father... Aegon and Viserys are each betrothed already. Neither could marry me."
"Aegon the Conqueror took two wives." Father's look shifted then. It went from sweet and fatherly and charming; the perfect king, to something more intense, and the tone he used was a touch more stern and almost faraway. "You remember their names, don't you? Their histories? What they brought to the world?"
"Visenya and Rhaenys." Visenya swallowed; so their ultimate goal for her return to the south and the embrasing of her 'Targaryen' roots had been revealed. "Sister-wives to Aegon. Father — you'd force me to wed my brother?"
"We'd force nothing." Elia said, her voice soft and soothing. "But we would ask you let him court you, and spend time with you. However long remains of the tourney and the feast thereafter. If you come to love him, if you come to find the same closeness that your sister has with him, I can't imagine a more wonderful future."
Visenya repeated what first she'd said. "My brother. It... it's not proper. The Faith..."
"The Faith will bend, as it's bent on a dozen occasions or more." Father countered. "The Great Septon has already spoken in favour of such, and a precedence is had. It'll be as if the Conqueror had returned and his sister-wives, the very women who'd borne the dragons for generations thenceforth, were back amongst us."
"But—" She felt a bit frantic.
"Sweet daughter." Elia took her hands and gave a gentle squeeze. "Your brother loves you, and I know for certain Rhaenys wishes for a closer bond between the three of you. This is no decision made lightly. Your Father and I have discussed this matter since the night we'd seen you returned to where you belong. You are a Princess, and a Targaryen, and a woman worthy of a King --m- Lyanna would love to see you made Queen of a stable and united realm."
Visenya looked down at Rickon. She needed to speak carefully and think over her words, and not allow her panic to show. "Is there no other? Surely the Realm would be insulted if Aegon took Rhaenys and I both."
Father stood tall then. "There's another cause for such a union — what do you know of prophecies? Or magic?"
She was confused, but she gave her answer. "There's tales in the North. The Old Gods, the Heart Trees, the Children of the Forest... it's said magic still exists there, but all the times in the Godswood or Wolf's, I've never seen anything that couldn't be explained."
"Magic exists, and 'tis as much a part of this Realm as it was the lands your ancestors and mine claimed. I've seen proof of such. My blood is special. Elia's, Lyanna's — I shan't get into that. But suffice to say, our family has kept guarded a secret. A prophecy. You, Aegon, and Rhaenys, the three heads of the dragon and restorers of our house to greatness, will see everlasting peace after the great war's fought."
Visenya went from worrying her hands in Rickon's hair or rubbing shapes on his back, to still as could be. Surely the two understood how they sounded to her.
Magic. Prophecies. ’The great war.’
Mayhaps Old Nan wasn't speaking nonsense.
"So," She swallowed, her words slow and careful. "I am to wed my brother and take the seat beside him and Rhaenys, and we are to become the rulers of Westeros... and face this great threat…whatever it is?"
Father nodded once. "There's so much for you and your siblings to do, sweet girl. Aegon and Rhaenys were raised with this in-mind. With you in mind."
"You truly believe this?" Visenya hoped her words came out less sarcastic than they'd sounded to her.
"Our little dreamers have all but confirmed it." Father's words were firm and his eyes locked on her. "'Tis no game or folly — how else would I have my Visenya here before me? Or my Aegon and Rhaenys? Fate itself has guided us. Aided us."
She took a deep breath and, gently, she lowered Rickon back onto the chair beside her. "And if I refuse to wed Aegon? Can we not still work as..."
"The three heads of the dragon." Father finished. "Your namesakes of old were wed and bound together. 'Tis they that were the strength the realm needed. They that conquered the Seven Kingdoms, and ruled justly. Not one after has their list of accomplishments, or their success. Our family's greatness will come from the three of you. The returned King Aegon and his wives, Rhaenys and Visenya. Aemon and I have discussed this longer than you’ve drawn breath, my daughter."
She wanted to tell him how insane he sounded, or argue the fact that neither magic nor prophecies of any kind were real; yet, her mouth remained shut, for she knew she could hope to accomplish little and less in altering his opinion.
"You've time." Elia assured her. "I shan't pretend the idea's easy, or that we'd not like to see the three of you wed. But, you've a sennight... until the announcement's made, and much, much longer after that for the wedding proper. And if, after you've taken time to get to know your brother, and seen the love he bears for you and your sister, and how much your sister adores you both, you still find the notion repulsive, we'll not force you."
Father sighed, yet a look Mother's way seemed to ease whatever tension had built up, and he relaxed somewhat, his voice more level. "I shan't lie and say a loveless marriage for the sake of one's duty is preferable to the destruction of the realm. If you, Aegon and Rhaenys are not as one and our house not at its peak, then the end that our forebearer saw, will come. I... it is selfish of me to push so much upon you in so short a time, I know that to be true, but there's no other course we might sail. Six and ten years we sought you out, and now you're returned to us. I cannot help but feel 'tis the will of the Gods."
Mother spoke then, before Father could take another breath and continue on. "Perhaps that's enough for one evening, my love. I'm sure our sweet 'Senya's already feeling overwhelmed."
"Of course." He gave a nod, and leaned back. "Eat and drink to your heart's content. Mayhaps I'll grab my harp... unless you'd rather hear more about Lyanna."
At that, Visenya gave a smile and nodded thrice over; that would work far, far better for her. She desired not another word about marriage, or duty, or the future. In place of such thoughts, Visenya's mind went to her mother, of the ghost given form by way of that beautifully made portrait; hearing of her and learning the stories and experiences Father shared, was a balm to all the worries he'd caused.
For the moment.
Chapter 22: A True Targaryen
Notes:
IMPORTANT NOTE THIS TIME!
Hello people, bit of a delay but here we are all the same; an update for progression first, with writing being done on Chapter 40 with edits done up to 30.
Now, the important stuff; this chapter sees the story take an Explicit rating, and going forward, there will be the occasional adult scene. If that's something that deters you from reading, than I'm sorry, but we decided on the progression being shown in such scenes as important enough.
Finally, there'll be another post towards the end of the month, and as always, thank you so much for the generous and kind words in the comments! This chapter is very nearly the half-way point!
(finally, this chapter was 14k words, sorry haha)
Chapter Text
Visenya watched as Dacey — the only one she'd trust with her Rickon — made to take her leave from her chambers, her little brother's yawns and the sight of his little fists rubbing at his eyes making her own exhaustion more than apparent.
"Goodnight, Dacey." She spoke and, gave a gentle squeeze of the bigger woman's hand. "And thank you for seeing him to his chambers. I'd do so myself, but..."
"It's no trouble." Dacey smiled. "He's a sweet boy, and not much of a fuss."
"He's the best." Visenya's smile turned and she leaned down, giving a kiss to Rickon's brow and her voice soft and soothing. "Go to bed, little brother. Sleep well and sweet dreams. I'll see you on the morrow."
The only acknowledgement she received was a little groan as one tiny hand went to the side of his face and his little head burrowed into Dacey's shoulder, the action causing her to smile.
"I'll see you on the morrow too, Dacey. Thank you."
"Goodnight, Princess." She gave a curtsy and a final smile, and then turned, her footsteps carrying her and Rickon out and down the hall.
Mother was at her back then, now that her little pup was gone and her attention turned, the woman's voice a pleasant, warm, soothing melody. "You're so gentle and sweet with him. I'd never have expected such from the fierce little warrior Aegon and Rhaenys said you were."
Visenya turned and found herself smiling, her head tilting just so; she took a step closer to her mother, but wobbled, and so had to stop. Words came next. "It's strange... I loved him in the North just as dearly, but now without Lady Catelyn or the others, he clings to me. It makes my heart feel warm. He's so small and precious — I just worry."
"You're nearing the age where you'll yearn for a babe, it'd seem. Even our wild Lyanna was eager to have a babe of her own — she'd imagine teaching you to ride, and having you play with Aegon and Rhaenys." Mother sighed, and pulled her further into the room, their bare feet drifting across the carpeted floor.
"Is that part of the... prophecy? Of what Father and… Uncle Aemon discussed? Babes?" Visenya asked, the word coming out somewhat awkwardly; she still doubted the validity of Father's claims, and yet, the desire to hear more about all of it, from magic, to prophecy to the wants of her family was present still. She had to know, to navigate.
Mother laughed then, and pulling her closer, shook her head. "No, sweet girl, babes are not part of the prophecy. But babes are a joy and treasure unto themselves, and a boon to our House and our people."
"I..." She paused. "I suppose so."
"Come, sit, sweetling. Your Father'll play the songs your mother loved, and I'll brush your hair. After the revelations you've faced, some doting is in order, don't you think?"
Visenya hoped she didn't seem too eager. "If you'd like."
"I'd like nothing more."
With her assent given, Mother finished walking them across the room and towards her bed, and had her sit. As she did, sinking into the plushness, the older woman began to run her fingers through her hair, and within moments, the comb was set upon her curls and her hair was being brushed and worked out.
The feeling of the teeth running along her scalp, and the way the strokes and motions were so soothing, made her lean against her Mother.
"Comfortable, sweet girl?"
"Mhmm." Visenya's response was soft as she reclined further. Gods, was she tired.
Mother laughed, the gentle shaking causing her to tilt and fall further against her. The warmth of her body was a welcome change that, in tandem with the wine, was quickly seeing her into a state of half-slumber.
Then Father began to play on his harp, and only after a few seconds' time, his voice joined the sounds, a beautiful and smooth baritone, one that matched the music being made and brought the songs and melodies to life. In Valyrian as it was, Visenya had no idea what was being sung, and yet, the beauty and the tone alone, made it all the more captivating.
It was a song she would have been content to hear a dozen times over, and one that made her eyes flutter shut before she was carried to the sweetest of dreams; that of a dark-haired woman with a wide smile, wind-swept hair, and a bed of winter roses for them to lay upon.
When she opened her eyes again, her cheek was pressed to Mother's chest and her hair was being brushed by gentle fingers, the feeling a most wonderful sensation.
"Sweetling?"
"Mhmm." She mumbled and tilted her head, the view of her Mother's neck and chest coming to her, and, though she had little inclination to move, her head tilted back and forth, and she looked around.
The light was dimmer, the candles that had illuminated the room now mostly burnt down.
"It's about time we see you back to your chambers."
"Nooo." The complaint left her in a whine, and she wrapped her arms around her mother, her voice a whisper as she made to plead for a small while longer... until she remembered herself. When she did, her eyes widened and her face grew red, and she felt a wave of embarrassment. She was nearly a woman grown, she shouldn't have whined. "I'm sorry, Mother, I..."
"Shhh." Her mother chuckled and gave a gentle squeeze. "You need not be ashamed. Your father and I both know you're eager to be with us — you know we share in that same eagerness. The sooner the tourney's done and our Aegon proves victorious, we'll have time enough to spend with naught but one another."
"That's a lovely thought." Visenya whispered.
"I think so too."
A sigh left 'Senya then, and slowly, she rose.
Father was still sat before the harp, a smile on his lips and his look warm as he gazed betwixt them. "I'm most eager to introduce you to your grandmother, Rhaella. She's as gentle and loving a soul as one can be. I'm sure she'll adore you, my Visenya."
"Aemon'll be just as fond of her." Mother added.
"Grandmother and... Uncle Aemon truly wish to meet me?"
"Of course." Father nodded once, and rose, pushing aside his harp as he did. "There's none in this family who won't take you into their heart. Even Viserys, though I believe his love would be of a kind that's best avoided — Rhaenys should've given warning already. I thought it better coming from her."
"You're the reason she told me not to be alone with him?"
"A precaution." He admitted, a hint of a grimace forming. "You're a beautiful young woman, and he's a young man with a desire to see you in his bed. His lusts have already gotten the better of him—"
"Many, many times." Elia sounded less than amused. "The women he's bedded are aplenty. We need no more bastards from him. But, that's a conversation for another day. For now, sweetling, we'll see you back to your chambers. You've a long day on the morrow — the lists, lessons, and if you'd like, a ride. Your father's seen a guard put together for you that'll be ready within a quarter hour's call at most any time."
Visenya's eyes went wide. "Really?"
"Of course." He nodded, and moved from behind the table. "The guards you've used were handpicked, and they're yours henceforth, given none have acted out. Should you ever find one that's... unsuitable, you need but say a word and I'll have them removed."
It'd be like her Uncle then; a guard consisting of trusted, capable men. "Thank you, Father."
He waved his hand. "Nonsense. My sweet daughter deserves no less than the best. And I can assure you, the best you shall have."
She stood then, her legs feeling a bit more sure of themselves and the room not nearly as blurry or spinning as it'd been earlier. It was a good sign that she'd slept off some of all the wine Mother and Father had seen her drink.
"Come." Elia offered a hand, and Visenya took it. "I'll get you back to your chambers, sweetling."
"Wait." Father's voice stopped her, and, with a smile, he approached, a gentle hand coming to her shoulder before he leaned forth to press a kiss to her brow. "Sleep well, and have pleasant dreams, Visenya — we’ll speak again."
"Goodnight, Father."
Mother's hand remained in hers as they walked through the halls and towards her chambers. It was quiet and only their steps and breaths broke the silence... aside from the plate of the score and a half of guards that followed after them; Ser Loras and Prince Lewyn amongst them.
She imagined a portion of the guards her father had assigned to her were also present, but her eyes were still blurry from drink, and the dark stone walls were hard to see and distinguish from the shadowy forms of her protectors.
"Here we are." Mother spoke softly, the pair halting in front of her door.
Visenya didn't let go of her mother's hand, instead looking to her with a hint of reluctance.
"Sweetling?"
"Can't we talk more?"
"We will." Elia smiled, her voice low and soothing. "Tomorrow, once you've rested and woken, we'll speak as much as you'd like. Or, I could read to you and we could spend the afternoon in the gardens, or mayhaps the Godswood."
"Ride with me?"
Mother's laugh was gentle, and she squeezed her hand. "Lyanna was always the rider. I much prefer lounging by or in the water. The sun's always a delight as well, but I'd fear for your skin just as I’d have feared for hers."
"We could go to the pool." Visenya suggested. "You could... help me to swim" She’d tried to learn once, but Lady Catelyn had said the moat was no fit place to swim for a lady, and her uncle had nearly gone weak of heart at the idea of so many seeing her… that wasn’t to mention the dye in her hair.
"Help you?" Mother tilted her head, her look confused. "Do you mean teach you? You've never learned?"
Visenya made a face, and looked 'round at all the men. "Mother," She pulled her into her room after gesturing to the menfolk with her eyes; they likely knew a bit of her history — where she'd been raised and her lack of education in certain areas. The fact she didn't know how to swim was surely another point that could be added to the list of things that were lacking.
"There's no reason to be embarrassed." Elia pulled her close, the older woman's arms going about her in a gentle hug. "Many a person has never learned. And there's no shame in learning a new skill. I'd love to teach you. It'd be one of the few first times I'd be able to witness of yours."
"Really?"
"Yes." Mother gave her a squeeze, and then leaned back, a finger tapping her nose. "I'd say we'll start on the morrow, but you'll need a bit of rest. Once the tourney's over, I'll take you and we'll have an afternoon or a day by the shore. Summerhall, Dragonstone, Sunspear — any place you’d like, even here, after a ride some ways from the city. Gods, to do so at Dragonstone. How lovely a sight that'd be. We'll have your sister join us, and little 'Naerys."
"That'd be wonderful." Visenya sighed.
"I think so too." Elia kissed her cheek. "Now, off to bed, sweetling. I'll see you in the morn."
"Goodnight, Mother."
Elia laughed then, the sound like a bell. "And sweet dreams."
Visenya watched her turn and walk off, and, only after the door closed and her Mother and her escort were gone, did she begin the slow and tedious process of removing her gown, and then, finally, slipping into bed.
As soon as her skin came into contact with the soft furs and sheets, she let out a deep breath and relaxed. The scent from the flowers near her bed was strong, and then there was the scent of the sea — both seemed to wrap her up in a blanket, and lulled her into a state of comfort, and with the scents of shit lessened as of late, she found sleep all the easier.
Her dreams for the remainder of that very night, wine-addled as they still seemed to be in part — that had to be the reason — focused on naught but her brother and sister, and the match Mother and Father spoke of.
In the depths of her mind, she pictured the three of them, standing by the Iron Throne, her brother and sister at her side, and a babe in her and Rhaenys’ arms each; both with the very same hair and eyes she herself possessed.
It filled her with the strangest warmth… and mayhaps, a madness-induced longing to make such a dream come true. It had to be the air she was breathing… yes… it was filled with the thoughts of the Targaryens of old.
That was the cause for her yearning.
When Visenya rose, her head throbbed and she had a terrible taste in her mouth, the scent of wine having been left to linger on her breath and in her teeth.
The worst part of waking was the realization that she had a very, very long day ahead of her, and that dream, or rather, the ending thereof had been so vivid; as real and visible to her as her birth mother's portrait. Mayhaps she was going mad and giving into whatever unnatural perversion the Targaryens held just as she’d thought the night prior.
Or perhaps, she'd simply had a vivid dream and her mind was trying to make sense of all she'd been told.
In truth, she knew not.
Either way, her mind was in a mess, and the morning had brought naught but the sight of a pale sky and a gentle breeze; the day would be cooler than those that had preceded it. A rare day of bearable weather when compared to most others; she could wear light furs and silks and be comfortable, and, with the tourney's final day, there'd be no heat and sweat to contend with should the weather hold.
Visenya took a breath and kicked her feet out from under the sheets, the chill of the stones against her soles doing nothing to ease her thoughts or the way her mind was turning and twisting.
With the knowledge of her impending marriage — she knew they’d see it happen regardless of her desires or what they’d claim — she was at a loss as to what she was to do. The very idea that she was meant to marry her brother and have babes with him, was strange and uncomfortable and the more she tried to deny or ignore such a possibility, the stronger the images and the desire that came with them, became.
Gods, she truly was at a complete and total loss, and her head was pounding, the ache having moved from the back to the front and now encompassing her entire skull.
With a groan, Visenya stood, and, slowly, made her way from her bed to the basin in the corner. A splash of water would do her wonders, and, hopefully, her headache would cease; she’d have water for a bath too, that always served her well in the rare instances she’d gone too deep into her cups — calling for the Maester seemed a step too far.
As she stood, her eyes drifted across the room and landed on her dresser. Where usually were brushes, combs and hair pins, there was a space made in the centre, whereupon some slip of parchment rested.
Curious, and more than a little wary, she took a step towards the piece of paper, and, slowly, picked it up. The handwriting on the page a clear and crisp script; two sentences in, she let it drop from her hands as her throat grew tight.
It… ‘twas a jest.
Visenya’s head snapped ‘round to ensure she was alone — the note hadn’t been there the previous night — and, slowly, she crouched down and took up the letter, her eyes scanning the words once more.
Her eyes hadn’t betrayed her, nor had her mind played a trick.
The letter left for her had been addressed, formally, to Father; it sought her hand in marriage, and made offer of much and more in concessions to be discussed upon acceptance.
Strange as that was, the house represented had been the cause of her shock and disbelief; the Starks of Winterfell, with the signature of Lord Eddard Stark at the very end.
If it hadn't been so ridiculous, she'd have laughed.
But a dream, this was not, nor did it seem to be something made in jest…
She'd have to— no, she couldn’t speak with Mother and Father. This wasn’t meant to be in her chambers, much less for her eyes.
Visenya moved to the nearest candle then, her feet switching betwixt cool stone and plush carpeting. Within reach of it, she raised a hand, then paused.
An urge to keep it and see the missive hidden away overtook her. It was foolish, and yet, the very idea that the letter had been slipped in to her rooms was troubling; the very person that'd done it had been so close to her sleeping form — Winter. How hadn't Winter heard, or scented the intruder?
'Twas a worrying thought.
Gods, mayhaps hiding it wasn't the right decision. She should tell Mother and Father, and show them the letter.
A knock on her door drew her attention, and she turned. "Yes?"
"It's Dacey, Your Grace. Shall I wake Rickon?"
"One moment." Visenya called out, then turned and hurried towards her bedside table, her hands slipping the letter under a stack of books that'd been left for her; next, she whisper-called. "Winter? Come."
Winter's head peeked out from under the bed. 'Twas but a nose at first, then, slowly, the pup moved further out and towards her, wiggling in the same way the hounds would when they need move out from under something.
"Good boy." She offered a hand and scratched behind her ears.
He seemed slow to move, and unsteady on his paws, as if he were tired. That struck her as odd too, considering Winter always seemed relatively alert and ready, and his energy never seemed to end. The mornings especially, he'd be eager and excited to see to his business.
Visenya blinked then.
Did the servants pick up his waste?
Her nose wrinkled at the thought as her feet finally saw her to her chamber door, and then, after a second's time, it was opened to reveal Dacey and a near-score of guards — Ser Loras was gone, likely resting. Seldom did she remember that the Kingsguard need sleep and eat as well, for always did the men-in-white seem standing nearby, quiet and watchful in their duties.
"Good morrow, Princess," Dacey's smile was a treat to see so early in the morn.
"Good morrow." Visenya yawned then, and wrapped her arms about herself; she wasn't chilly, but the vast number of men still unfamiliar to her did give rise to an uncomfortable sensation.
"Shall I call for breakfast?"
"Please." Visenya put a hand on Dacey's forearm then, and paused for a moment when she felt the muscle and firmness thereof; the woman was more than capable. "And could you please make certain Rickon's served his favourites? Eggs, fried bread, and bacon. Much and more bacon. He's picky when it comes to his foods — the eggs can’t be overdone."
"Of course. Water for your morning's bath as well? And, would you have me summon any maidservants?" Dacey's little smirk at the lattermost words was teasing and light.
"No, thank you. I can manage well enough." Visenya felt her face heat up — she still didn't see why those unknown to her should wash her down or aid her in dressing. Her embarrassment hadn't ceased despite the amount of times she'd refused help.
Besides, at worst, Rhaenys, 'Naerys, Mother or even her Lady Bear herself could lend a hand.
Dacey nodded, and gave a curtsey — an amusing one given her apparel — and stepped back.
Visenya bid her farewell with a swift wave, then the door to her rooms was closed once more, and her focus went straight to the table in the corner, where upon that letter was hidden; as if she didn't have enough issues. Now, she had another to worry over; two, really.
Robb and the mystery person that'd been in her chambers.
Gods.
Life as a Princess was growing ever more complicated.
Visenya cocked her head at Vaella. "Really?"
Her cousin's smile was a bright one. "Really.... that is, unless you would desire me not to be your lady, Princess. Father — he thought it best, since we're cousins, that I'd be a suitable choice, and I'd love to serve you... if you'd have me."
"No, no, I'd... I'd enjoy that, Vaella." 'Twas the truth. Visenya had thought the girl was kind and pleasant, and, in the time spent together, she'd found their shared interests and conversations enjoyable and comforting. Having her as a lady-in-waiting would be wonderful, and she imagined it'd prove helpful in seeing her further adjust to the South and Valyrian customs and culture. "I hadn't thought Mother or Father would see me given ladies-in-waiting. I suppose I was foolish to think I'd be alone for much longer."
Vaella shook her head, her braids bouncing at the action. "The King had expressed his desire in making certain it was alright with you before I began to tend to any duties at your side. He made certain it was known that, should you deny, that'll be the matter settled... I know I don't speak for the King, but I believe I'm no exception. Any others would ask as well, I think. Princess."
"Cousin." Visenya corrected. "And I suppose it'll be but the two of us and Dacey henceforth." Visenya didn't mind that; she looked at the parchment and letters thereon. "I could have somebody else see those properly stored — I have to have a change of dress before the lists begin."
At the mention of another person putting away their study materials, Vaella blinked.
Visenya tilted her head. "Vaella?"
"Apologies." Her cousin cleared her throat. "It's just that, I'm quite good at sorting things... and I have a manner in which I like to see items stored. You— I'm sorry. I didn't mean—"
"It's fine." Visenya laughed, the sound drawing a wide, relieved grin from the other girl. "Go ahead. Do what you will. I'll need your help with my hair only."
"Thank you, Cousin." Vaella's smile was a bright one, and it only grew wider when she was dismissed and began to gather and sort the various papers and letters left for her.
'Twas a curious sight; Visenya had expected a girl her age to find studies and the like tedious or boring, but, her cousin seemed to treat each and every scroll, parchment, and book as though they were treasures.
It brought a smile to 'Senya's face as she thought of all the times she'd read with Maester Lewyn — he'd been just as covetous and cautious in handling such texts.
If only the Maester could see her now; Gods, how she'd ask for his advice and counsel.
But, he was far away, and in a land she doubted she'd return to for a very long time.
With a sigh, Visenya turned and took her leave, and, as she walked, her thoughts shifted to the many recent events; the lists and the rider who bore her favour, the mystery person that'd entered her chambers and left the note, her betrothal that'd happen very soon, magic and prophecies.
Lovely as life in the south had proven to be with all the foods, and sights and novelties, she'd give much and more to be back in that troubleless tower, with naught but the howling wind, company of her cousins and all the tales she could read.
But, such a life wasn't for her.
The future she was meant to see was that of a Princess.
A wife.
Rhaenys wrapped her arms 'round Visenya as soon as she'd finished climbing the stairs to the Royal Chambers of the arena. Her big sister gave a gentle squeeze, and made certain to press a kiss to her cheek, then a very quick one to her lips.
"My sweet sister." Rhaenys leaned back, but kept her grasp of 'Senya, who found herself a touch stunned. "Have you had a good morn? And what’s the look for? ‘Twas owed."
"Was it?” She shook her head. “Quite a good morn..." Visenya slowly replied, then paused and took a moment to take in her sister's appearance; she was clad in a dress, the fabric a pale orange and white, and, as it flowed, the red and yellow stitching made themselves visible; she didn’t have the flush that came with wine, and so she shook off the kiss. "Is this new?"
"Yes." Rhaenys nodded. "When Mother and I had a seamstress summoned to prepare a wardrobe for you, I had a few made for myself as well. What do you think? Do you like it?"
"It's very pretty." Visenya gave a small smile. "You look wonderful." Since their conversation, she’d begun to take in Rhaenys’ figure in greater detail. She knew she was wanton and sinful, but… she found her sister bringing forth similar emotions as to Aegon, albeit heavier with annoyance.
She was better as of late, bu—
"Good." Rhaenys seemed delighted by her answer. She pulled her closer then, and gave a kiss to her other cheek. "Vaella did fine work on your hair." She sighed then, and began to lead 'Senya to her seat by their parents, stepping back enough to loop an arm through one of Visenya’s. "I suppose you'll need my aid even less than you already do."
Visenya opened her mouth, and made a sound, but nothing came to her. What could she say?
"I jest, little sister." Rhaenys laughed. "I can't deny feeling a hint of jealousy, but I know should I desire it, your time's mine."
She huffed at those words, the sound drawing a grin from Rhaenys.
"Don't make such a face, 'Senya. A big sister's allowed her own whims and wishes." Rhaenys brought a cup of wine up to her lips, snatching it as they'd passed a table. "Here, drink."
Visenya made to grab it, but Rhaenys stopped her with a hand, and raised the goblet to her lips; she blushed, but sipped from the rim all the same.
When Rhaenys' other hand raised a small piece of cheese to her lips, Visenya's blush grew, and, slowly, she took the offering, the taste a rich and tangy one — the south was ever-full of some new, queer-tasting cheese, it seemed.
"Aren't you the sweetest?" Rhaenys' hand lingered against her lips as 'Senya chewed; she continued. "Always you treat Rickon to such behaviour, but you need the same yourself. You're just as deserving and sweet."
Visenya gave a soft sigh, and swallowed, her tongue flicking out to lick away a bit of cheese. "'Tis not necessary. I— Rickon is much younger. It's right that I show him such things. He's still a boy. I'm a woman grown."
"You're not too old to enjoy it." Rhaenys corrected. "Mayhaps not a child, but still my baby sister. And I'm quite pleased with being able to spoil you."
"Rhaenys—"
"No~" Her big sister sang, the sound and tune lovely enough to belong in a sept.
"Rhaenys." All the same, Visenya whined over her, the sound drawing a laugh from her older sister.
"I'm afraid there's no reasoning with me." Rhaenys grinned, and pressed another piece of cheese against her lips. "Now, eat. We've a tourney to watch."
'Senya huffed, and opened her mouth, her eyes locked with her big sister's as she took the food and began to chew. Outwardly, she need pout and try to escape… but inwardly, she found the treatment enjoyable. She was being seen to as if she were a Queen of old.
Rhaenys' smile grew. "I think this'll be a rather interesting day."
The joust had begun, the crowd having been riled and excited since the very beginning.
Visenya more than understood their joy; since first she'd seen the tourney's melee, she'd been captivated. Now, with the lists, the sight and skill of the many knights was impressive and awe-inspiring. No amount of words in her books had done it justice, and the songs hadn't done so either, few and far between as they’d been in the North.
The reality was far, far more incredible.
'Twas the second bout, and already the crowd had been thrilled and awed by the skill and power on display. The horses, the armour, the riders — the whole affair was a marvel. She'd never say it aloud, but the thought of seeing Aegon best another like he'd bested Ser Cletus had her most eager and excited.
"Oh, dear." Elia's voice drew Visenya's gaze, and, as she looked to her Mother, her confusion grew. "This might get ugly."
Visenya watched the Queen raise her hand and rub her forehead, a sigh escaping her lips.
Her attention shifted back to the joust at-hand, and in a second's time, she understood just what Mother meant. A Dornish knight had been bested by Ser Garlan, and, though the loss was a respectable one, the Dornishman's rage was plain for all to see. Enough so that he'd called for sword and shield.
"He'll fight Ser Garlan, then?" Visenya spoke aloud her question, not thinking to whom she'd addressed it.
"He will for a few seconds' time. It'll let them work off their anger, then Father will call for them to cease their foolishness." Rhaenys explained.
"Oh."
"Indeed." Mother laughed, the sound light. "We're used to it. The Dornish and Reachmen are seldom a mix that ends well. 'Tis only thanks to the Crown's influence that they've kept peace for all the years they have."
Visenya looked back to the field.
Aegon and Robb were seated by the edge of the arena, their horses held nearby, and the men themselves were dressed in a similar manner they'd been at the melee. Their armour, and the sigils thereon, were a stark contrast to the other riders, for none could match the beauty and ornateness of Aegon's, or the Northern look in all its uniqueness; near to one another as they were, she hoped the two were making the most of their time and getting to some level of friendship.
A jolt of fear ran through her then.
Should Aegon ever hear tell of the contents of the letter she'd hidden away... friendship would be far, far from their relationship.
Eagerness and anxiety took over the excitement she'd had only moments before.
When she turned her eyes back to the men in combat, she saw the bout had already ended with the Reachmen as victor, the Dornishman having been sent off the field with a gash to his arm and likely a very bruised shoulder, but she put not a hint of attention towards them.
Worries filled her, and her stomach twisted as her thoughts continued to spin and spin — this time, for a rare change, the worry wasn’t in regards to the attention her siblings paid her.
Aegon's next bout was soon to start, and Visenya had yet to calm.
The more and more she thought, the more and more she realised that, mayhaps, she should seek out Mother and Father and tell them of the letter.
What if they didn't know?
What if somebody had stolen the note and placed it where it was found?
She knew not.
"Are you alright?" Rhaenys' voice had Visenya's gaze snapping to her, the sound and tone thereof soft and concerned.
"Of course." Visenya managed to get the lie out.
Her sister's expression shifted, and her brows knit, but before Rhaenys could speak, a horn's sound was heard, and her attention shifted.
"That's for the jousters." Mother stood, her gown shifting in the breeze; Visenya couldn't help but admire how it looked. Fashion was so different here in the South, and never had she seen Mother sweating as she oft did. "Aegon will be on the field in a minute."
Wishing not to answer or make conversation with Rhaenys, 'Senya stood as well, her gaze shifting from her to Mother. "Who is it that he faces? Another Dornish?"
"No, a man of the North, it seems." Elia gestured down, and 'Senya's eyes went to the man. He wore armour that'd allow him to be passed off as a Knight, and seemed young — no older than herself.
"A Knight of House Manderly." Visenya said aloud.
Elia seemed impressed. "You know your Northmen, my sweet."
"I had time enough." She didn't know many Houses, but those of the North or those mentioned many a time in popular tales were easy to remember.
"You did." Elia's smile seemed to fall a bit then; she didn't allow that to cease her words or happiness in conversing with 'Senya. "And who do you believe shall win? Our Aegon, or this Manderly Knight?"
"Well..." 'Senya paused. Aegon, was her immediate thought. But she didn't want to seem smitten; if she was cooler and more objective in her approach, perhaps they'd find the union needn't happen. She could stay close, very close, but without needing to be married to him alongside Rhaenys — a second wife, nay, a second sister-wife… it seemed a reasonable solution. "Aegon, I think. Each is surely skilled, but Aegon, he was trained by the best in the Seven Kingdoms, and that's shown most clearly." Undoubtedly he was better-equipped as well, but she needn’t mention that.
"You're quite right." Elia nodded. "He's a natural at many things, and jousting is but one."
"I agree." Rhaenys joined in then, her smile a wide and proud one. "Aegon's talents are numerous, though I think his charm isn't quite as refined."
Mother laughed. "Your brother's always seemed charming enough to you, dearest."
Rhaenys — oft the teaser and seldom the teased — pouted at that. "Only because I'm his sister. It's my job to see my little brother well-kept. He's a handful. A sweet, sweet, wonderful handful."
At their back, Visenya heard the giggles of Tyene and Nymeria.
She looked to them, and the two smiled at her; the latter brought both hands up, and made a showing of cupping something in her palms with her left, whilst the right went up and down as if it were polishing a blade.
Visenya blinked, confused, and the pair's smiles only grew 'til Rhaenys spoke up. "Tyene. Nymeria. Is there something you wish to say?"
"No." Tyene replied. "We're fine, thank you, Rhaenys."
"Yes, quite. Thank you, Rhae." Nymeria echoed, her words as sweet and innocent as Tyene's had been.
Visenya tilted her head, the confusion growing more and more, but she shook it off as one of Rhaenys' hand sought her cheek, and gently turned it back 'round. When she spoke, her lips brushed Visenya's ear nearer to her as that hand saw a few loose strands brushed behind her ear. "I'll tell you later, when we're alone."
She felt her cheeks heat up as her mind finally made sense of what the Dornish girls had mimed. "Oh."
"Yes. Oh." Rhaenys' laugh was a warm and comforting one. She flung her arm 'round 'Senya's shoulders then, and gave a kiss to her temple. "A wager like the Lords make, little sister?"
"A wager?" Visenya tilted her head. "I... Mother and Father would need give me coin."
"Coin? Nay." Rhaenys grinned. "A kiss. When the bout's over, whichever of us has won gets a real kiss from the loser."
Visenya blinked at her then, and after a few seconds' time. "You said that wasn't a norm, and now you'd ask more of me? Again?"
"I did, but I'm not asking." Rhaenys gave a grin. "'Tis a wager. I'd not be cruel about it. Should you lose, a single kiss will do, and should I, the same. It’d be a payment, see? So do you accept?"
'Senya opened her mouth to answer, and was met with a loud, thunderous cry, the sound shaking the ground and the stands.
It had her gaze going straight to the field, whereupon Aegon and the Manderly Knight were riding to their ends, armoured, lance in-hand and helms atop their heads.
Gods, did Aegon look every bit the Prince and future King each tale would make mention of.
"I don't believe I heard you, sister." Rhaenys' breath was against her ear.
Visenya's eyes went to Mother and Father then. What were their desires of her and Rhaenys? There was little written in the way of their namesakes' relationship, only words that claimed Aegon heavily favoured Rhaenys.
This Rhaenys, however, seemed to be very... fond of her.
Very.
"Fine — I claim Aegon to be the victor." Visenya managed, her heart hammering as her sister's smile grew; why'd she agree?
Gods, this madness was taking hold of her.
"Excellent." Rhaenys pressed a kiss to her cheek then, and an arm went 'round her waist. "Did Mother and Father make mention of something, sweet sister? I know you spent a meal with this last evening, but I confess I know not what they discussed with you. Is it to do with an upcoming betrothal, mayhaps?"
Visenya's eyes narrowed, and that hammering of her heart lessened somewhat. "You knew for fact what was to come."
"I did." Rhaenys' hands went up and down her sides. "You were always going to be ours, little sister — I knew you'd not accept such a thing when first we met and I know I pushed too far, too soon. Even for the sennights that first followed it’d be too much, but you know where you belong now, do you not? With your big sister, and big brother. We can be all that you need and wish for."
Visenya was silent.
"Do you, sweet sister?"
“No, no, 'tis not... 'tis not what's done."
Rhaenys' hum was soft, and rather than react angrily or upset, she gave another kiss to Visenya's temple. "You needn't worry about what is done, sweet sister. Father is King, his word is final. You're ours."
"Mother and Father said I have say in the matter. That they'd not force me to do something I didn't wish."
"They did." Rhaenys conceded. "But, if you refuse, 'tis not simply our wants that'd be denied. What of the Realm? If Father spoke of the betrothal, did he not too make mention of our future? Of why he named us as he has? Yo—"
"Girls," Mother cut whatever words Rhaenys meant next to say, off, and gave a gesture to the field down below. "You've missed the first tilt. Aegon's taken the lead."
Chastised, she and Rhaenys turned their attention to the field below — the latter’s hand didn’t leave ‘Senya’s person even then.
Aegon would go on to win after four tilts — the Manderly Knight was knocked off his horse and, after an awkward fall, could go on no longer.
He was declared the victor, and, when he dismounted, Aegon raised his helm and tossed his lance aside. His eyes went straight to Visenya and Rhaenys; even far away as they were, she could see his smile — after they’d gone back, into a shaded chamber, she still could see the look he’d worn.
"Our Prince won." Rhaenys' words were soft as they pulled her from reminiscing. "Shall we honour our wager, sister?"
"You needn't." Visenya said, her heart racing once again; Tyene and Nymeria had gone to see to wine and refreshments, while Vaella had been given leave to sit with her family — it was naught but them.
Rhaenys tutted, and raised a hand to her breast, her fingers sinking in such a way Visenya couldn't help but blush and feel... strange. "You'd have me break our wager? No, no, 'Senya. You agreed."
"I know." Visenya sighed. "But, 'twas a silly thing, wasn't it? W—"
In the back room as they were, waiting for Aegon to arrive, Rhaenys leaned forward, and pressed her lips against Visenya's.
Rhaenys' lips were warm, and their touch was... soft. One hand slithered forth, first caressing 'Senya's cheek, then sinking into her hair, her fingers brushing through the light strands.
When Rhaenys' tongue touched hers, her cheeks heated and her body squirmed despite her wishes for composure. Her sister tasted of wine and the fruits she’d been eating. Pomegranate especially broke forth, as did a uniquely… sisterly taste. The longer it lasted, the more Visenya's head felt light, and the air... it seemed hotter than it had been only moments before.
Their lips separated, and Visenya could do naught but blink, the sight of Rhaenys' smile drawing a feeling, one she couldn't place, to her heart.
"My sweet, sweet sister." Rhaenys pressed another quick kiss to her lips, this one far shorter.
"I— that was—"
"What?" Rhaenys tilted her head, her expression innocent and curious.
Visenya was saved from having to answer when Aegon made his entrance.
The commotion his arrival brought, and the congratulations he received from Mother and Father, the Kingsguard and even Tyene as she seemed to make her return as well as the others present gave more than enough notice to see her pull away. Rhaenys' eyes stayed upon her, a knowing smile on her face as Aegon grew nearer and nearer, his steps and the thanks he’d utter to all who came by to give their words and blessings oft giving away his position.
Thus, Visenya had more than enough time to see her dress freed of any overly offensive wrinkles, her hair brushed aside and her cheeks — somewhat — cooled.
The sight of him stepping ‘round the last divider that kept away unwanted eyes, torchlight flickering off his armour, had her sliding further still from Rhaenys’ side.
Aegon didn't seem to notice, nor did he comment upon it, instead his smile was a warm and proud one. He took a moment, and then a deep breath before sliding into the space on ‘Senya’s other side. "Father said you'd been watching. Was it exciting?"
"It was." Visenya answered quickly.
"I'm glad." Aegon grinned, and pulled her closer with a hand on her hip as his eyes went to their sister; he made it seem as if his hand lay upon a place that was far less intimate than it truly was based on the lack of care or attention he showed.
Visenya swallowed the urge to blush and shift as he addressed their sister; she was cornered — quite literally — and had a sibling on either side.
"What were you two speaking of in so secluded a space? I’d have thought you’d be there to greet me alongside Mother and Father as per usual.” Aegon raised a brow.
"We were discussing the wager we made." Rhaenys grinned, her smile seeming almost innocent and sweet.
“Rhaenys!” Visenya couldn’t help her exclamation, the word drawn out and her face flushing a bright, bright red.
It was… she’d accepted, gods, she had, but did her sister need to tell Aegon of it?
Her brother laughed. "And what was it that you two betted upon?"
"That you'd win your next joust." Rhaenys answered before 'Senya could speak up and explain away the words she'd said. "Our ‘Senya was confident you’d win, so naturally I had to take up the side of the downtrodden.”
“Ser Edwin? A lesser-known knight he may be, but he’s landed and loyal to the Manderlys. Hardly downtrodden — what did our sweet sister win?” He asked, the question directed at Rhaenys as the hand on her thigh, his fingers slowly tracing shapes and patterns thereon.
"She won a kiss."
Visenya's cheeks were flushed.
"A kiss, was it?" Aegon seemed amused… then he frowned. “And… I suppose I missed out on seeing the payment made?”
Rhaenys' eyes flicked to Visenya, and the smile she sent her way was a knowing one.
Their brother would need be blind to miss out on such a gesture.
"I suppose you did." Rhaenys answered.
"How terrible." Aegon let out the most forlorn, most pitiable sigh. "'Tis the second time now that you've kissed our dear sister, and left me without."
Visenya's eyes went wide, and immediately sought out — again — her sister. "Y-you made mention of the other? I— Why would you speak of such a thing?" Did Rhaenys and Aegon truly share so much?
"Why wouldn't I? We'll both be wed to him, little sister, and we'll need grow comfortable with the idea of much, much more." Rhaenys shrugged, her eyes never leaving Visenya. "There's no harm in it, trust me, little sister."
Visenya blinked, her mind hung on one specific word. "More?"
"Much, much more." Rhaenys nodded. "Kisses are not the limit of the pleasure we can bring each other — I forget you're likely to know so little in that regard. Would you like Mother and I to expla—"
Vehemently, 'Senya shook her head.
No, no, that was not needed. She knew how... what Rhaenys meant. Robb and his friends had made mention of it when they thought her to be inattentive; brothels, a whore named Ros, the girls at Wintertown, and a great deal of crude, crude language.
"Rhaenys, leave our little sister be." Aegon's hand moved from her thigh, to 'round her shoulders, pulling her into a side-embrace. "Mother and Father spoke with you yesterday, then? Of what's to come?"
"They did." Visenya answered, grateful for the distraction.
His gaze was searching as he looked her over, and he hummed. "I'd have thought you'd have been less accepting of such a thing, truthfully. I'm glad you've not fled or caused a scene."
"I'd not get away." Visenya would be honest; there was no escape. "If I did, I'd lose your goodwill and trust, and I imagine there might be other unhappy changes as well, should I be taken. 'Tis an easy decision to make."
"You think so lowly of us, 'Senya?" Aegon's brows rose. "Is it truly such a bad thing to be wed to me? To us? I'll have you know that you'll be Queen one day. Your name will be known as much as mine or Rhaenys'. You'll have the Realm's respect and admiration. What is there to hate or fear about such a life?"
"I don't… you've been kind and welcoming and the life of a Queen sounds wonderful with what it’d entail — I do not doubt it. But..." She paused, and glanced between her siblings. "We're... we share the same father. You both share the same mother too. Wh- how do you not see it as... unnatural? Mother and Father gave me an out if I so wish it, but they desire me to give you a chance."
"They did?" Aegon seemed surprised, then his expression shifted. "You misheard. Father would not—"
"He would. He said it."
Rhaenys was quiet a moment, then, with a seriousness seldom seen, she looked to Aegon. "You and I need have a conversation with him later, brother. For clarification’s sake."
"We will." He agreed.
Visenya swallowed and her stomach twisted. "Why? Why does it matter so much?"
"Because," Rhaenys reached over, and grabbed 'Senya's hand, holding it tight. "You are not going anywhere. You belong here with us just as the Visenya of old was with her Aegon and Rhaenys. You're meant to be ours — you were always meant to be ours, if what Father and Uncle Aemon says turns out to be true."
Visenya lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling as birds sang and the many Southron insects made their noise, the sun shining bright and hot; evenings were similar to the mid-day heat of the North — both weren’t very pleasant.
Yet, the weather had, in some part, grown on her. It was still thoroughly unpleasant to be certain, but no longer did it render her all but useless, nor did she sweat near as much as she did her first few sennights.
Well, not ‘til this one, but that had little to do with heat.
Nerves and the near-ceaseless tossing and turning were more likely the culprits.
"Gods, this is not the time." Visenya muttered, her hand coming to her head, the cool, light fabric of her pillow-case only a small comfort when compared to the usual relief it brought.
So she threw off altogether the fabrics and furs that made up her blankets and bedsheets, and stared at the ceiling anew.
"There's no escaping. I’ve been theirs the whole time.” Visenya was saying the words aloud. Not just thinking them, but speaking them, her voice echoing through the otherwise empty room.
Rickon was elsewhere, no doubt sleeping or eating; he was still young enough that sleep and food were his top priorities.
She envied him... and she pitied him.
Her eyes went to the drawer nearby, wherein lay the letter she’d stowed away; did she address it now?
Aegon and Rhaenys meant to speak to Father about their betrothal and the certainty thereof, and they might very well succeed — she would be married to her half-brother and sister.
Unless it didn’t work out.
Mayhaps… mayhaps being married to Robb wouldn’t be a bad idea.
She’d return North, to the Starks, and sh— no.
Rickon.
Even if Mother and Father accepted Robb’s proposal — something she thought impossible — they’d not part with Rickon. He was their punishment; a child taken for a child stolen.
She could not leave him, and the idea of doing so, the mere thought had her chest aching.
"Fine." She breathed, and rose from the bed, her night-gown swaying about her thighs as she made for the drawer, and the letter therein.
She needed to speak with Mother and Father — this letter could be an escape, and if not, the appearance of it in her chambers would most certainly prove far more important a matter to resolve than more marriage talks, especially if the marriage was already tentatively approved.
"Gods, I don't want any of these troubles." Visenya breathed.
She sat on the edge of her bed, her eyes closed, the letter held loosely in her hand, and tried, vainly, to gather her thoughts and calm the racing of her heart.
What would Father do when he saw her with the letter?
Had he been wrathful when first he’d read it, assuming he even had? Or had he merely laughed at the idea?
She swallowed, and stood.
Visenya threw on a heavier shift so as to hide her form, though there was little effort given towards it; the colour clashed with that which she wore beneath it.
She didn't look as a Princess should, but the matter didn't concern her; it wasn't a public audience or some feast, so who would be there to comment or care?
It wasn’t far from the hour of the wolf, and whilst there were guardsmen and servants present, the majority of latter were likely abed and the former, well, Mother and Father had said they were completely and utterly loyal, and night as it was, there’d be less than her usual day’s guard.
Thus, she threw on a robe and tied up her hair.
When she stepped outside her chambers, she was greeted by the sight of Ser Loras — he’d soon be off to bed himself if she guessed correctly, but he'd not yet done so, it seemed.
The moment he caught sight of her, he gave a nod. "Princess. Is something the matter?"
"No, not quite. I'd like to see my parents. I know 'tis late, and they'd no doubt be abed, but 'tis urgent."
"Are you certain it can’t wait?" Ser Loras looked distinctly uncomfortable at the prospect of making Mother and Father rise; she couldn’t blame him.
Still, she nodded.
"Very well." He bowed, and slid behind her as she started on the small, familiar journey that’d see her to their chambers.
Visenya's heart beat a rhythm against her chest, and her hand held the letter so tightly she thought it might wrinkle the parchment and ruin the message therein.
But, before long, she was standing before the great oak door that led into the King and Queen's chambers, the two Kingsguard that guarded the doors giving her the slightest of nods as they pulled the doors open with nary a word said. She imagined that meant Mother and Father were still well awake, despite the lateness of the hour.
And, so, Visenya took a deep breath, and stepped inside.
Mother and Father's voices carried, albeit garbled, and her brow furrowed as she heard mention of the Prince.
Aegon?
Why were they speaking of him?
"Visenya, is something the matter, child?" Mother asked, and she realised that her steps had stopped.
"I..." She blinked, and her cheeks flushed. "I didn't mean to listen. You — I wanted to speak with you."
"About?" Father asked; his eyes found the letter in her hand, and a brow rose.
"What is that?" Mother's eyes went there too, and her head tilted, the slightest of frowns coming to her lips.
Visenya swallowed, and stepped forth, the sound of her footsteps seemingly echoing. "You said that I had the option of my betrothal to Aegon. That... you'd not force me to do what I didn't wish."
"That is correct." Father's eyes were still on the letter. "Is that a list of those you'd rather wed?"
Visenya shook her head. "It was in my room, on my dresser. Someone brought it there." She hoped they’d not think she took it.
At that, Father frowned, and rose from his seat, striding towards her; the letter was taken, and his gaze turned harsh. "Someone dared enter your chambers and leave this? They mean to cause a rift — Elia." He held out the letter, and she took it.
Her Mother was quiet a moment, and, once finished, her frown grew deeper. "They wanted you to see the Starks made a play for your hand in marriage. When did you find this, daughter?"
Visenya paused then.
Would they grow angry if she spoke the truth?
"When, Visenya?" Mother pressed.
"It was..." Visenya looked away. "This morn."
Father's sigh was loud, and her cheeks grew hot. Would they punish her?
"I am sorry, Father." She blurted. "I— I didn't tell you because... because I wasn't sure what to do. And, then, Aegon and Rhaen—"
"Calm yourself, sweet girl." Mother placed a hand upon her shoulder. "We aren't angry with you, Visenya, just at those who'd dare try such a thing. You'll stay with Rhaenys 'til we can make certain there's no threat."
"Elia." Father's eyes flicked to Mother.
"It'll be fine, Rhaegar. We can have someone move her things in. You know Rhaenys' passages are well-covered. Tyene, Nymeria and the others use them oft enough, and I do believe Oberyn’s girls made a game of setting traps of a kind."
Father's jaw set, and his eyes went back to the letter, but then, a moment later, he gave a nod and moved to the door; he spoke to Ser Aemon then. "Have the guardsmen keep a closer watch on the area, and have a pair of them stay in Visenya's rooms. I want the passages of the holdfast patrolled and kept under guard. As many as we know of. Be discreet, and choose only those we can make certain the loyalties of."
"As you say, your Grace." Ser Aemon answered.
Visenya didn't stay for what was conversed next, no, Mother saw her off to Rhaenys' rooms and bid her stay there whilst the servants saw her most vital of belongings brought over.
As it turned out, telling them of her discovery had not seen Mother or Father angry with her, and they hadn't made mention of a betrothal to Robb or Aegon.
She'd speak with them again on the morrow to make certain a choice remained.
Rhaenys.
Gods, she had to stay with Rhaenys after earlier.
Her cheeks heated at the memory of their kiss; the more recent of the two.
The way her sister had felt, her tongue, the warmth and softness of her lips, her scent and the heat of her body.
'Twas all too fresh, and she knew, the moment her eyes fell on the bed, her face would be as red as blood.
Visenya bit her lip just as her presence was announced, and Rhaenys stepped through the doorway leading to her chambers proper. In an instant, one hand went 'round her waist and she was pulled in, her cheek pressed to her sister's shoulder. "I hear you had some trouble? Mother didn't go into specifics, but I hear you're mine for the next sennight at the very least."
"That... that is so." Visenya's response was quiet. "I'll not take up much space. I could keep to the divan."
"Whyever would you?" Rhaenys pulled away, and brushed aside a few stray hairs that'd fallen across her face.
"Because—"
"Nonsense." Rhaenys tutted. "The bed's large enough for four, let alone the two of us. We’ve shared a bed before. Several times. Come. The servants have nearly finished bringing your belongings — we needn't oversee them while they do, not when your Lady Dacey can see them out. I'd see you more comfortable in my bedchamber."
And so, she was led to the bed, and Rhaenys saw her seated thereon, after removing their robes, leaving both wearing naught but silken, short nightgowns.
Her sister's eyes were knowing, and her smile, as she sat beside her, was a wicked one.
"Is... something wrong, Rhaenys?"
"No, not at all, little sister."
Rhaenys' hand moved to her hip, and pulled her closer. She was then pulled atop her sister's lap with little effort at all, and her arms, as her head spun, wrapped 'round her.
"I know you're confused." Rhaenys' voice was quiet as she spoke, the sounds of the servants coming and going with Visenya's things seeming muffled.
"What do you mean?" Visenya's eyes met her sister's own.
"What I mean, my sweet, darling, little sister, is that you're torn between wanting to kiss me and wishing to run."
"R-Rhaenys... y-you're mad. You and Aegon could put a stop to this. Y-you could say no and I could be free. You and I, we don't have to..." She swallowed, her throat feeling suddenly dry.
Rhaenys tutted. "We do have to. There is no other way, little sister. Father raised us with the mention of prophecy and magic — 'tis no different, no more or less natural than the sun rising each morning. We're meant to be together."
"A-are you so certain of that? Do you not find it... odd? Or unnatural? I'm not comfortable with it."
"Not yet." Rhaenys shook her head, and her hands slipped lower, coming to her bottom.
Her face was, in an instant, aflame. "Wh-what are you doing?"
"You'll need be comfortable with being touched. By me and Aegon both." Her fingers dug into her flesh, and her bottom was kneaded.
"I— you're..." Visenya's voice trailed off when Rhaenys' hands came around, and moved to her front.
"Do you wish me to stop?" Her sister's eyes were dark, and the heat of her breath washed over her.
Visenya swallowed.
This wasn't natural. Wasn't right.
But gods, did her heart race and her skin tingle. So oft would Aegon or Rhaenys see the queerest of feelings well-up within her, and she knew not how to fight against it.
"Visenya." Rhaenys spoke her name in a whisper. "Do you wish me to stop? Tell me and I’ll do naught more than tuck you in for a night’s rest."
"N-no." She answered, the word barely louder than her sister's words before she shook her head. Her long, silver-gold hair framed her sister’s face as Rhaenys leaned back, keeping ‘Senya atop her. “Don’t.”
Rhaenys leaned in then, and her lips were taken, a groan rumbling in her throat as a tongue met hers, and her night-gown was pushed higher and higher.
She moaned and whimpered and squirmed as her sister's fingers teased and tickled her inner thighs. Not even she oft touched the sensitive skin there’round. To feel another’s hand gently tracing shapes or kneading was…
Rhaenys broke the kiss. "You're more receptive than I expected. It pleases me, little sister."
"Receptive?" Visenya swallowed, and finally, realisation and self-control returned; she slipped away from Rhaenys and her fingers, and sat, again, on the edge of the bed, her hands clasping her thighs. "No, it— I'll speak with Mother. Mayhaps Daen—"
"Visenya." Rhaenys' voice was chiding. "Come here, my sweet sister."
"You'll not touch me like that again. You'll not touch me anywhere. I— this isn't natural."
"How are you so certain? You don’t feel drawn to me? To Aegon?" Rhaenys reached over, and her chin was tilted, her eyes then meeting her sister's.
"I can't be." Visenya pulled her chin free, and turned away. "We can’t… it isn’t…"
"Why not? Why can't it be natural? If you'd only allow yourself to relax and enjoy the pleasures that can be had, you'd see — don't you remember how Aegon and I looked together? I know you saw us, don't deny it. Don’t deny how you felt when you watched us."
Visenya shook her head and closed shut her eyes. "We can’t."
Rhaenys hummed, and the sounds of a shifting body came, before her sister's hands settled upon her shoulders, and a kiss was pressed to her cheek. "You'll come to understand, little sister... now, come here. I'd like to hold you. We'll sleep tonight, and when the morrow comes, we'll speak more about this. I fear we’re both much too tired — I'll even tell you what Mother and Father said to me too. No doubt you've an interest in that." The little laugh that followed did nothing to settle her nerves.
Still, she found herself laid out, and her sister's embrace, despite everything, brought with it comfort. The very same from when first they'd cuddled, and, soon, she was asleep.
Morning saw Visenya awaken, and she realised, almost immediately, that there was a weight atop her; a hand at her breast and partially on her ribs, and a body pressed up against her side.
Rhaenys.
Her eyes opened and her cheeks heated as she expected a smug or teasing expression, but no, Rhaenys was in the midst of sleep, her expression, for once, entirely peaceful with naught so much as a sign of teasing or wantonness.
So she relaxed and allowed herself to take in her sister's be— looks; her tanned skin, her hair, black and straight, the dark, thick lashes that framed her closed eyes, the shape of her lips. One could tell with naught but a glance that she was of the highest stock.
'Twas... odd, being this close to her when not so long ago she was a bastard girl.
Her hand came up, and her thumb brushed against her sister’s lips; they were warm and soft and she could still feel the tingling from their kiss, the ghost-feeling of her tongue in her mouth, her breath on her cheek.
It was wrong.
Sansa and Arya... she felt sick at the thought of doing with them what she did with Rhaenys, yet 'twas the lattermost that was her true sister.
"Mm, good morn." Rhaenys' voice was sleepy, and her eyes opened slowly, her smile, small and sleepy. "You're awake earlier than I'd expected."
"I've no idea when 'tis." Visenya breathed. "You... slept well?"
Rhaenys' brows rose. "Well? 'Tis the best sleep I've had in some time, sister. And you?"
"It... 'twas restful, yes."
"Mhm." Her sister smiled, and leaned in, tightening the hold she had around her.
"Rhaenys."
"Yes?"
"What did Mother and Father say to you?"
"So early in the morn and you wish to discuss them?" Rhaenys huffed, the splash of warm air washing over her neck and cheek as her sister stretched. "They agreed with what you'd said, mostly. They told me the betrothal wouldn't happen 'til you were ready, but also said 'twould happen — they were most confident. That was all, really. Then, they sent me back here."
Visenya's heart sank. "And... do you wish for it to happen?"
"Oh, quite so."
"What about Aegon? Did he agree with this too?"
"You know the answer to that." Rhaenys' hand moved, finally, from her breast, to her face. "He finds you quite beautiful, little sister. Fierce. Adorable. Innocent."
Visenya's cheeks, already warm, grew hotter.
"Now, 'tis time to rise, no? We'll bathe, dress, and break our fast together. 'Twill be good fun. Come, come, no more questions so early in the morn when I’ve a fog about me." Rhaenys pulled her from the bed and set her upon her feet.
"I can move, you know." She arched a brow as she looked at her big sister; the messy hair, sleepy eyes and untogether state of her sister was most amusing.
"Mm, bold." Rhaenys' smile was teasing, her voice a low murmur, as she removed her nightgown, causing Visenya’s eyes to widen at the sheer brazenness and lack of modesty even still. "No more hiding or being shy. You're my little sister, ‘tis my job to spoil you. Now come."
"B-but, you're—"
"Naked?" Her sister giggled. "You've bathed with me before. Why do you find this any diff— Gods!"
Winter poked out from an adjoining room and bounded forth, the sound of his paws as he bounded to them so sudden that even Visenya, despite expecting him, flinched.
"Ah, ah, ah." Rhaenys scolded the pup, and crouched, his eager steps slowing as he pushed his nose into her hand. "Calm, Winter. Calm." She rubbed behind his ears, and, soon enough, he was sitting still before her big sister, his tail wagging... until Balerion the old black cat poked out from under the bed, and his interest and energetic bursts started anew.
Visenya laughed, and went to her knees. "There, there, boy."
The pair soothed their respective companions for minute's time or thereabout, and the bath was, eventually, prepared with the proper oils, and entered.
Rhaenys, of course, shrugged off the robe she’d briefly donned, as soon as the servants were gone, content to walk around and collect the oils she desired sans so much as a stitch of clothing.
Visenya, in contrast, removed her nightgown but kept herself covered with her hands as she stepped into the warm waters slowly, savouring the feel of the heat as it enveloped her.
"So, 'Senya," Rhaenys began, her hands busy as she mixed the oils together. "What are your thoughts on Aegon and I?"
"My... thoughts?"
"Mhm. Your thoughts. You made mention earlier of how incest disgusts you, but that was well-before our lips touched. What are your thoughts now?"
"I— I..." Her tongue wetted her lips. "I don't know."
It’s immoral and sinful. Yet, Visenya’s mind could most easily picture Rhaenys pressed against her back as Aegon took her from the front; she’d be at the centre of attention, and writhing as the two took her to pleasures beyond any touch of her own.
"I think you do." Rhaenys smiled, and the bottle was set aside. Next, the water was disturbed as she came to join 'Senya in the bath. "Here, turn around, dear sister. You've quite a bit of tension."
She swallowed, and did as asked, her back turned to Rhaenys.
"I do find the idea of it... wrong. We— you, me, Aegon. I— that is, I mean to say." Visenya paused, and took a breath. "'Tis wrong, and... yet, on occasion, I've been overcome with strange thoughts, and urges."
"Oh?" Rhaenys' hands began to massage her back, and her eyes slipped shut, the feeling of her sister's touch mixing with the soothing touch of hot water and oils. “Do tell little sister.”
"I..." Her blush darkened, and her throat was dry. "'Tis embarrassing."
"I'll not mock you, Visenya. Nor would Aegon." Rhaenys pressed closer, and a kiss was pressed to the base of her neck. "Tell me. I'd have no secrets between us."
"I— I want... I've seen you and Aegon, and 'tis strange and yet, and yet..." She trailed off, and swallowed again.
"Visenya."
"I'm sorry, it's just that— that... it's sinful. A Lady shouldn't—"
"A Lady should, and, indeed, has, hence our being here." Rhaenys kissed her shoulder, and her hands left her back; she turned her 'round, and, her cheeks flushing, her gaze was drawn down.
Her sister’s breasts were even larger up close. They were near as tan as the rest of her, with brown peaks that were hardened into pebbles and little red marks peppered across them.
"R-Rhaenys... what are you doing?" Her eyes snapped back up when a hand brushed the valley betwixt her breasts.
"If you cannot bring yourself to tell me, sister, then perhaps you can show me."
"What?"
Rhaenys' hands dipped beneath the water's surface. One grasped her own and guided her between her legs, whilst the other began to ghost through the thin, silver-gold hair that sat above her sex. "Here. Do you not know what to do?"
"I—"
Visenya's eyes fluttered shut as her sister's fingers brushed against her... centre. It felt as though her skin was aflame, and the sensation only intensified when her fingers moved lower, and the folds of her maiden's veil parted. Rhaenys' little coo was soft and low and she felt her breasts press against her own as she leaned forth.
"Gods, Visenya."
She couldn't stop the whimper that escaped her lips, or the way her hips moved on their own when a finger traced from bottom to top.
"There we go." Rhaenys murmured, her hand squeezing her own, and, then, she moved it lower. "Here, darling sister. Trace around the outside, and pay special attention to the little pearl atop. You'll enjoy it. Now, open your eyes and look at me. I want to see them."
And so, her eyes opened, and the sight before her was enough to make her cheeks heat and her thighs tremble.
Rhaenys was smiling as her fingers worked maddeningly slow circles over the tiny nub that gave such pleasure. "There we are, little sister. Keep looking at me. I'd have you see just how much you please me."
Visenya whimpered and squirmed as her hips rolled, her hands shot to cling to the edges of the bath as she rose up onto her knees and her stomach tightened, and her mind became hazy. The water in the bath sloshed as her hips moved on their own, jolting and chasing the touch of her sister. Visenya could only stare into Rhaenys’ eyes as her chest rose and fell faster and faster as she tried to catch her breath, but found it impossible to do so. She opened her mouth to say something — anything — but the only sound that came out was a deep moan, a sound she’d never made before.
"Close?" Rhaenys murmured, her own breathing heavy.
She was. Gods, she was. She nodded her head as the only sounds she could make were moans and whines. Senya felt the weight of her sister’s eyes, the purple that matched her own seemed to burn with fire and heat as Rhaenys chewed on her bottom lip. The hand between Visenya’s thighs moved faster and faster, alternating between shapes on her pearl and swiping from it to the base and back again. Her sister’s other hand danced across Visenya’s body, squeezing her arse or giving it near-painless smack, before roaming up to her breasts, and massaging everywhere in between. It left a trail of fire wheresoever her touch went.
It’d been nary a few moments’ time, but the pleasure Rhaenys evoked was beyond comprehension; her legs were shaking and her vision was growing fuzzy and she was so warm and it was all too much and her head was spinning and gods—
Her cry was a mix of a whimper and a moan as her body spasmed uncontrollably. "Rhaenys~!"
"There's a good girl. Such a sweet little sister."
Even as the feeling ebbed and flowed, and her head slowly cleared, Rhaenys' fingers did not stop, and the sensitivity was, soon, bordering on painful. "R-Rhaenys..."
"Mhm?" Her sister hummed, her pace slowing further, but not stopping as she peppered kisses across the pale flesh of her neck. At points, she’d stop and suck at the same time her hand’s motion would increase or decrease.
"I— can you—" Visenya gasped and her hips moved of their own accord as the pleasure again began to make numb her mind. "—Not s-stop?"
"Not yet. Just a little more."
She groaned, and her head fell against Rhaenys' shoulder as sweaty strands of hair fell across her face. The salty taste of it made her feel freshly aflame.
"That's it. Let me draw it out, little sister." Rhaenys breathed, and her other hand found its way to her hair, and brushed it back. Her lips found hers thereafter, and Visenya could only squirm and whimper and moan as the pressure ebbed and flowed just as time seemed to.
When the pleasure peaked a second time, it did so much later and yet so soon after her first. With her head lulled back, her hair rife with seat and stuck to her face, and Rhaenys’ mouth attacking her breasts, sucking on her hardened pink pebbles, it was too much; the pleasurable warmth filled her completely; she started to wail.
But her cries were muffled by a hand that Rhaenys had raised to her mouth when she seemingly became loud enough to cause concern. She felt, rather than heard, the pleased purr that came from her sister when she sucked at her breast as a babe might. Her own gasping and pounding heart filled her ears so much so that the suckling sounds her sister made were only just audible.
Thankfully, gods thankfully, not long after she was allowed to rest this time, and the two remained as they were, both catching their breath — 'Senya sitting atop Rhaenys' lap and leaning back as she sought out the plushness that was her sister, her head rested on Rhaenys’ shoulder as her sisters hands caressed her stomach with the most gentlest of touches.
"There." Rhaenys whispered. "'Tis a taste of the pleasures that can be had with but I, little sister. Imagine Aegon joining us. Imagine the ways we can bring you to peak."
Visenya tried to speak.
Tried, and failed; her throat was dry and her eyes felt heavy.
Rhaenys smiled, and pressed a kiss to her temple. "Rest, 'Senya. We'll finish washing and dress later."
As Visenya sat betwixt her siblings atop the — by now — very familiar seat that overlooked the arena, she struggled, at first, to focus on the match before her.
She could only think of Rhaenys, and the bath. The sensations and feelings and the memories of her hands.
Then, the memory of her and Aegon. Together.
Rhaenys had said together, they'd bring her... they'd bring her...
Visenya shifted, her face warm, and tried, instead, to focus on the fight. Yet the warmth in her cheeks did not cease, and the images remained, unbidden. She could feel a warmth, a slickness between her thighs, as her mind failed to move on from the images it kept bringing forth. Her stomach twisted in a queer fashion that saw her squeeze those annoying thighs of hers together; it was becoming nigh uncontrollable.
"You're distracted, sister." Aegon's words were whispered into her ear. "Is there something amiss?"
Her skin prickled, and she shivered. He was so close, and his breath was warm. Like Rhaenys'.
"Visenya?"
"I'm well." She lied. “Don’t miss anything.”
"If you're sure." Aegon sounded unconvinced.
"I am."
"Mhm." Aegon shifted so that he could look at her. "You'll miss Ser Loras' final joust 'til the quarter-finals if you're not careful."
"I'm watching." Visenya replied with a huff; she wasn't lying either... she was watching, only her attention was divided betwixt the match and... and something else. "Quarter-finals? He qualifies already? Has he lost a single match?"
"He hasn't." Aegon shook his head, and then added very quickly. "Nor have I, mind you."
"Jealous of the attention our sister’s gallant knight receives, little brother? 'Tis unlike you. Especially with him." Rhaenys remarked as she leaned forth, her head on Visenya's shoulder, and her hair brushing against her neck.
"Jealous? Why would I be?" Aegon laughed. "You forget h—"
Rhaenys' elbow was swift, and a grunt was all the sound Aegon made, save for the laughter that followed.
“Play nice, little brother.” She chided.
Aegon only laughed as Visenya momentarily wondered what they meant; her mind only allowed her a few seconds’ reprieve before Rhaenys’ earlier actions came back again.
The joust continued, and ended as it should; with Loras the victor — she knew that much.
"So, my lovely little sister," Rhaenys' voice was soft and warm, and rife with affection. "Will you ride today?"
"Would you… join me, if I did?" Visenya asked.
"Mm." Rhaenys hummed. "Do you wish for me to?”
Aegon made an offended sound, and a pout. "Am I not invited?"
Visenya's face heated. "The two of you are nearly always together — I should think if Rhaenys comes, so too will you."
"And that's no bad thing, is it?"
Visenya arched a brow at him. "No, I didn't say it was, 'twas merely an observation."
"I know. I'm teasing you, 'Senya." Aegon reached across and his hand came to rest atop hers. “We can go together on the morrow or the morrow’s morrow, mayhaps. I’d like that.”
"Right." She breathed, her gaze darting to his hand; his fingers were long, and his skin was so smooth, and warm. The veins and the muscle beneath rippled when he idly began to rub at her palm...
Loud cheers came then, and she snapped her head back down to the arena. Ser Loras had given a nod to his opponent, and was waving to the crowd now, his smile, wide and charming, and his armour glinting in the sun.
He was very pretty.
"Aegon." Rhaenys' voice cut through the roar. “Your next match is not far, no?"
"No, 'tis not." Aegon agreed.
"You're riding against...?" Visenya trailed off, trying to remember the knight's name.
"Ser Balegor." Aegon gave a nod to the section on the right, wherein sat the Celtigars that were present. "A firm friend, and a good jouster. It's unfortunate I'll have to see him defeated."
"So, confident?" Rhaenys chuckled, and her arms came around Visenya's waist as she shifted closer still.
"Always." Aegon had a small little grin on his face. "I've not lost to him since we were boys."
"You say it as if that wasn't only three or four years past, little brother." Rhaenys' tone was teasing.
Aegon blinked at her. "You were the one that decided the time, 'twas not I."
The laugh the two shared was enough to have Visenya smiling; their joy always seemed so infectious.
As expected, Aegon had won and earned his place in the finals of the lists. There were still two days left of the main portion, but already, her brother, Ser Loras, and a few other men she'd quite forgotten the names of had earned their way through. Visenya was standing by herself near the rear of the royal chambers, her eyes looking at the model of the old Dragonpit; she remembered the fact each time she looked at it that ‘twas built from stones of the previous ruins — it’d never be something she found anything less than interesting.
And yet her thoughts were turned to some of the knights left in the joust as interest in the tourney won out. Her brother, Robb and Ser Loras among others all had their chance for glory, and she’d be able to bear witness.
There was Ser Swann too, oh yes, she couldn't forget the man. He was a fine archer, a seemingly sweet and honourable man, and a fine, fine rider. He’d been introduced to her in passing when Aegon had been coming to her and Rhaenys — there were other knights too, but he was the only one of interest to her.
She'd be eager to see her brother face off against her Ser Loras, or Ser Swann. So many others he'd faced had been naught but... boring.
"Lost in your thoughts, sweet sister?" Aegon's voice came from her left, and she jumped; his lips twitched into a smirk. "Apologies. I didn't mean to scare you."
"You didn't. I was just... distracted." Visenya's eyes met his for a second's time, if that, and then she glanced away. Seeing the very same eyes that she herself possessed gazing into her soul after knowing what he desired was... queer.
"Oh? Anything important?" Aegon moved to stand behind her, his hands settling upon her shoulders, and a second later, his thumbs brushed against the bare skin of her neck. He seemed content to knead the tension from her flesh; until he realised he’d done so without permission. “Apologies, little sister.”
In little enough time, he’d worked away a portion of that tension — tension that could be directly traced back to him and Rhaenys.
Perhaps he felt responsible, but likelier still she was simply overthinking his actions just as she did with the rest of her new family.
"Nothing of note." Visenya managed, and she took a steadying breath as her eyes closed. "My lessons. The tourney. What comes after, should I allow it."
"Do I worry you?"
She stiffened. "What?" That was a queer question to ask.
"You seem uncertain of yourself, but you're not oft like that with Rhaenys. Not unless her blood's hot." Aegon explained, his tone, almost, nonchalant. "I'd never harm you, and I'd certainly not be as forward or aggressive as our sister. If 'tis what worries you."
Visenya swallowed. “I know. It doesn't."
Your name still does.
"Good." His hands fell back to his sides, and his voice was soft as he continued. "I'd like for you to be comfortable around me, sweet sister. And, in time, I'd have you trust me as Rhaenys does. If not more."
"I do trust you." Visenya turned, and her hands found his. There was a comfort in contact that she seldom sought; here and now, it was most enjoyable. "I only wish we’d… remain naught but siblings. That you and Rhaenys would marry alone if that’s what you desire, but it isn't."
"What we want is what Father desires. What he and Rhaenys know to be necessary for our family’s future.” Aegon leaned forward, and his forehead rested against hers. "And what's the harm in it, Visenya? In allowing yourself a bit of pleasure? In indulging us?"
Her breathing was uneven, and her heart was racing. "It's wrong."
"Is it, though? Is it truly?"
"We're related." She murmured. “Siblings. So many woul—“
“Fuck any who'd judge. We’re dragons. The Valyrians of old were known for this very thing, and our namesakes? They created a dynasty, joined together the kingdoms, and were all but worshipped as Gods. We'd follow in their footsteps, and create something greater still."
Aegon pulled away, and his hands came up to cradle her face.
"And I love you, little sister. You’d not be second to me." He murmured, and then the distance between them closed. She saw him coming closer, she knew she could step back — that she had to step back.
But she didn’t, and in naught but the blink of an eye, his mouth was on hers.
His lips were warm, and the kiss, at first, was nothing more than the gentle press of his lips against her own.
But then her mouth parted treacherously, and feeling that, Aegon slipped a hand into her hair.
She was not sure, then, who deepened the kiss, but 'twas so different to when Rhaenys had done the same, and she felt heat blossom throughout her body as she made comparison betwixt her siblings. His lips were more rough, and the way he pressed against her... it made her feel... small. Smaller than even Rhaenys did.
And safe; the firmness and muscle of his body almost made for a blanket.
Visenya could taste the wine on his tongue, and the scent of his skin was intoxicating. She couldn't get enough and let slip a whine.
"Gods, 'Senya." Aegon breathed as they broke apart, his cheeks flushed and his breathing heavy.
"A-Aegon."
He swallowed, and his eyes were darker. "I should— I should go."
Visenya didn’t trust herself to speak, so, instead, she nodded as she took a few steps back and away from him.
After a second, one in which he traced a thumb over her lower lip and gazed at her with all the heat of a dragon in his eyes, he turned, and left.
She stood still for a time, her fingers coming up to brush against her lips in the very same manner his had, and, after a time, her heart began to slow and her breathing evened.
The taste of his lips still lingered, and the heat that had come from their contact had not yet fully ebbed away. Nay, it was throbbing.
She couldn't say she disliked it. Kissing him… and the fact that it was her… her brother... her blood...
Visenya really was going mad.
And she blamed Aegon and Rhaenys for it. Them, and the blood that coursed through her very body — the madness that had her siblings was taking hold of her, and for better or worse, she couldn’t beat it back.
Chapter 23: Visenya
Notes:
Here's Chapter 23 as promised. It's about average length (10k+) and finished one last round of edits only yesterday!
A lil note on the progress; edits are underway for 30 and 31, with work being done on Chapter 41; some of these later chapters are a bit larger than what we're used to (15k+) so apologies in advance.
Finally, thank you all for the kind words after last chapter and the continued positive, polite and very enjoyable comments!
I hope all's well, and enjoy!
Chapter Text
Visenya woke and saw the sun had yet to rise. She only gave one wiggle, the one that near every person always did when first they rose so as to feel that pleasurable rush that’d come forth, but that earned an immediate response.
"Mm, 'Senya, stay. Sleep." Rhaenys grumbled, her arm that she’d not felt tightening around her waist and her breath tickling her neck as her big sister burrowed further thereagainst.
For a second's time, her eyes widened and her mind raced; what was Rhaenys doing in her bed?
Then she remembered, and a small smile touched her lips. Her siblings were always so quick to protect her and keep her close… and Rhaenys had shown she really had a fondness for her.
The thought, like many as of late, made her wiggle as a flush of heat shot forth.
"You're warm. This whole place is." Visenya murmured, and she turned, attempting to make some small amount of space betwixt her and Rhaenys as her sister’s breath, touch and a generally wanton state all worked against her. Yet, the moment she moved, her sister was there, her nose pressed to the side of her neck and her body flush against hers.
"Rhaenys?"
"No moving." Came the grumbled reply.
"I need to use the privy."
Rhaenys' only answer was to hold her tighter.
"Rhaenyyyss." Visenya whined.
That earned a huff, but, a moment later, she was free, and the cold air was a shock to her system. "If you don't return, little sister, I'll go and hunt you down. And then I'll not let you leave our bed."
As Visenya's feet made contact with the stone floor — one cold enough to cause an initial flinch, queer as that was — she was quick to respond. "You'd need be able to catch me first."
"You think yourself faster than I?"
"I'm smaller, more agile and certainly quicker." Visenya shrugged.
Rhaenys' laugh was muffled, but her words were not. "That doesn't mean anything, and you know it… though perhaps that would make for a fun game." She kicked her legs and shifted under the silken sheets. "Now, hurry, and return. 'Tis far too early to be up."
"I used to rise early for rides in the crisp air of the morn. You and Aegon are making me lazy."
"Lazy is as good a look on you as I. Now, hush. I'd have my beauty sleep, little sister —- return quickly." Rhaenys pulled the sheet up to cover her head, and all that was left to see were a few strands of messy, dark hair.
Visenya couldn't help her smile, and then, she made her way through Rhaenys' rooms.
The privy was a small chamber, and, after relieving herself, Visenya stepped forth and paused. Her reflection in her sister’s floor-length mirror was clear, and her face was framed by a mess of hair. She looked... strange, in the early morn. Her hair was so long — Rhaenys and Aegon desired not that she should cut it, and so, it'd grown and grown and it felt as if the silver-gold grew even more dominant as it matched her brow and the other hair across her body.
At least her skin was pale as ever it'd been, and her cheekbones and her jaw... seemed less pronounced, as if her face had become rounder. Her lips were a little plumper, too, and her eyes looked brighter.
How was that possible?
She'd gained weight, she knew that, and 'twas because of her siblings and parents. Rhaenys and Mother had called her small and skinny, and, so, had encouraged her to eat more. To eat what she wanted and try as many a dish as she wished.
Her breasts were bigger too, now that she looked, and she didn't know whether she liked that or not.
They'd need be bound when she rode, and sparring would become... difficult, too, she imagined.
"Are you well, little sister?" Rhaenys' voice was soft.
Visenya hadn't heard her enter, much less move close enough to be within a handful of steps.
"I'm fine."
"Then, why the long stare?"
"I was just looking. At my... face."
"Ah." Rhaenys approached and her arms came around her waist. Her sister pressed her front to Visenya's back. "You're growing and filling out, 'Senya. We only needed to keep you properly fed and watered."
"Properly fed and watered? Am I a plant now?" Visenya met her sisters eyes in the mirror and arched a brow just as she’d do to Robb when he’d say something she’d not be fond of.
"You’re a dragon just like us. Dragons need much in the way of feed." Rhaenys nodded and pressed a kiss to her temple. "It’s why I could see all of your bones when first we met. You needed more — 'twas not healthy."
"You did not say as such." Visenya took a deliberate step away from the mirror. "I used to ride and race around the Godswood in Winterfell and spar with Robb. I was never idle. Such is the reason you could see my bones."
"Hmm." Rhaenys hummed, and, then, her hands came to her breasts. "You can't deny these, little sister. 'Tis the fruits of proper feeding. Proper watering too. And, the best part is, we get to play with them." She then cupped them and her fingers found her peaks, covered only by the lace of her night gown, and began to wiggle them betwixt her fingers.
Visenya flushed and her back arched. "R-Rhaenys! Don't!" It felt far better than any time she'd ever touched herself; her nipples were so sensitive, and her touch...
"Why not? There's naught to fear, 'tis just us, here — you took long too, and now that I'm awake, so too are my appetites. I'm afraid you'll have to sate me." Rhaenys' teeth grazed her ear, and Visenya shivered. "I desire a repeat of our bath adventures yesterday, I know how much you enjoyed yourself little sister.” Visenya could only stare into her sister’s eyes through the mirror as she felt a wave of heat come forth, and a now familiar set feelings grow in her belly.
Yet she shook her head and tried to fight it, “We shouldn't do that again.” She tried to convince herself as much as Rhaenys, “I’m your little sister. We…”
Rhaenys gave a wicked grin as she spoke over her. “My little sister-wife come soon enough. Aegon and I will make sure of that."
She whimpered, and her breathing grew heavy as the warmth inside her bloomed, and her heart pounded in her chest; but even as that wondrous pleasure came forth from her sister’s touch, sense hadn't left her.
Visenya pulled away, and turned to face Rhaenys as her worry and insecurities flew forth. "You'd have me be your little sister-whore, too? You and Aegon both. You want me for the prophecy, for what Father desires. N-not because—"
"Hush, 'Senya. You know that isn’t tr—"
"No, 'tis true. You say you love me, but I think you and Aegon both love the thought of me. You're a dragon, and all dragons lust. I read of it i—"
"You know naught." Rhaenys snapped, and her eyes darkened. "Why do you resist even now? Visenya Targaryen. Princess of the Seven Kingdoms, daughter of the King. Our sister. Our wife-to-be. You're a dragon, and your blood runs as hot as ours. You're afraid. Of yourself, and us. You're scared, and you're lashing out. But you're not a child, 'Senya. I thought you knew better."
Visenya felt her own eyes grow hot, and her jaw clenched. "Then, tell me. Tell me that you and Aegon desire me for beyond the prophecy and appeasing Father."
"We want our Visenya. Our little sister. Your laughs, your smiles, your joys, your passions, and your tears." Rhaenys sighed and her hands settled on her hips, the touch distinctly lacking any lust. "You've changed so much since we met. You were so meek and nervous. As if we'd strike you at any moment. Now you return barbs, command the men, return my embraces, and tease and banter with Aegon — you've been ours since the first, Visenya."
Stupidly, so so stupidly, Visenya said the first thing that came to mind. "I could be Robb's."
Rhaenys' face was impassive, and, for a time, she remained silent. Then, slowly, her hands reached up and cupped her cheeks. "He proposed?"
"I was just using his name a—"
"Don't lie, 'Senya. I'm not an idiot." Rhaenys' grip tightened. "Did he?"
She remained silent.
"Gods. He did." Rhaenys muttered, her eyes closing. "He asked, and Mother and Father — they told you that they'd not force you to wed us. You'd have a way back to the North if you were stubborn enough. One that'd require no fleeing in the night, or any sort of scandal." A few seconds went by in which neither moved.
And then Rhaenys threw herself away, and her fists clenched at her sides. "Fucking Stark." She hissed. "Fucking cunt. He had the audacity to ask, and Mother and Father knew, didn’t they? They gave you an out? What was their logic?" Seething, Rhaenys turned her way, and started for her; Visenya moved back and away when she saw the look in Rhaenys’ eyes, until her back was pressed to the wall. "There is no out. You'll never call Winterfell home again."
Visenya chose silence as Rhaenys led her back into her chambers, and saw her seated on the bed, and then her hand slipped into her hair. She watched as her sister stood before her and fussed over the bunches that’d formed in the night — she was tempted to press and say Winterfell would be her home.
It’d always hold a place in her heart.
"Did he ever have you, Visenya?" Her sister breathed the words, her lips but a hair's width from her own.
"No." Visenya felt naught but disgust at so much as the thought. "He was my brother. I'd never." It was a mad suggestion. One that filled her with repulsion — a feeling that was absent when Aegon would fill her mind.
Rhaenys' lips twisted into something akin to a smile as she seemed to read her thoughts. "What of our brother, then? I’ve seen the looks you send him when you think yourself unwatched.”
That brought forth that embarrassed wave of heat all had experienced. “You’re mad. I fi— Incest is wrong. Brothers weren’t meant to… with sisters.” Even as she said it, Visenya was unsure if she was trying to convince Rhaenys or herself. The looks, the heat and most of all, the draw to him, brought forth much in the way of conflict.
"Aegon's the more sensible option then, is he not? Only the man he's become is known to you, not the boy he’d been that'd piss you right off, and then tease you when you got angry." Rhaenys sighed, and the annoyance or anger or whatever had taken hold of her seemed to ease away. "Give our brother a chance. A real chance. You owe it to us."
"Owe you? Why would I owe you anything?" Visenya snapped. "You took me."
Rhaenys cocked her head. "You're still focused on that? Let it go. The North is not your home, and, no matter what, you'll never belong there. You're a dragon. Your family is here."
“I have family in the North.” Visenya prodded Rhaenys’ chest sharply. “I have a tower in Winterfell, should I desire it. Say anything more, another word, and I’ll tell Mother and Father ‘no’.”
“Sister…” Rhaenys inhaled deeply, and after some few seconds, exhaled. “It always comes back to this, does it not?” she let out this… angry-sounding laugh. “I’ll not press it. I… apologise… stay with me in bed?”
Visenya felt the urge to argue even after her sister’s capitulation, but Rhaenys was right. If each spoke their thoughts aloud, it’d only devolve — it wasn’t like she actually had a chance to return home either. Those faint hopes of returning at Robb's side... they were not true. They were a fool's dream.
So she let Rhaenys lead her back to her bed, and after some tentative and slow actions, her sister held her close after they slid under the covers. She was respectful with hands and words both, and sought contentment in naught but cuddles; the whole while, 'Senya thought of the future with that rare rage coursing through her. One that’d have seen her push Rhaenys or take her leave if she uttered so much as another word.
She would marry Rhaenys, and Aegon, she knew. She could have her brother's child. No, children. She would be a Queen, and mother, and, in time, her children would rule, and the prophecy that Father spoke of would be fulfilled.
But could she be content?
Could she find joy and love?
Or would she end up as naught more than a sad song or tale that girls like Sansa would hear and weep?
No. Gods be damned, she’d say no before misery took her — there’d be joy and love, or she’d do something about it, and not even the Spider could stop her.
Aegon's gaze was warm and his smile, sweet. "I didn't expect you so early, sweet sister. What of your morn's lesson? Did you finish already?"
Visenya gave a nod. "I asked Vaella to begin earlier than norm. I wanted to talk."
"Talk?" Aegon blinked, then he rose up from his chair and crossed the room. "Is something wrong?"
"Our... announcement, will be soon, I think."
"Ah."
"Aye. And... I have a few questions." Visenya raised a hand when he made to close the final few steps. "Stay there. I need space to think. I’ll have space. "
"What?"
"Just stay there whilst I speak. Rhaenys — she's too much sometimes."
"That she is." Aegon agreed, his eyes, dark and purple, meeting her own. He seemed to understand her better as of late, and simply smiled as he leaned back against soft, carved stone.
Visenya took a few breaths, and her gaze fell. "What... will happen? With us. After."
"After our wedding?"
"Yes." Visenya paused for an amendment to be made. “If I accept.”
Aegon snickered, and that small smile came forth as if he could already see their future. "We'd visit Summerall to bond and love, we’d go to Dragonstone with Grandmother and Uncle Aemon. Even Dorne, to see Uncle Doran and the rest of our cousins — naturally, Uncle Oberyn would join us with Tyene and Nymeria on the way there. After a moon or so, we'd go on a progress, mayhaps. Highgarden would be a wondrous place. There’s so many… but I’ll not overwhelm you — once we finished, we'd return here... so long as there's no place else you'd like to see. I'd show you the world, little sister."
Mayhaps those were words he thought she desired to hear, but they weren't.
"I don't like new places. Nor over many people. Well. Courtiers or nobles." Visenya murmured. From Winterfell alone, she knew she got on better with the smallfolk.
He took a half-step forth, but then he paused, seemingly remembering her desire to keep a bit of distance. "No extra stops, then, and Rhaenys and I will keep by your side. You'd not have to worry about aught."
Visenya swallowed. "I meant the marriage — the prophecy too. The one Father spoke of." She wanted to move beyond the current topic; it made her uncomfortable. "What'll be demanded of me? He's only spoken of the sigil."
Aegon blinked at her. "Sigil?"
"The dragon's three heads. It's the Targar— our sigil." Visenya looked at him as if he were an idiot.
"Oh, sweet sister. It's not our sigil he spoke of. 'The Dragon must have three heads' — 'tis the reason you, Rhaenys and I are to be one union. For the Realm, our family and the future." Aegon then switched to what else she'd made mention of. "As for what you'd need do... 'tis not a thing you need fret over, Visenya. Mother and Father would still oversee much, if not all of the handlings of court, but I imagine we'd need share meals with others more oft than we do, and go off to tourneys on occasion. We'd also host the occasional feast."
"What of the... sleeping situation? Will you and Rhaenys share a bed?"
He let out a small chuckle as a boyish and charming look came upon him. "Something tells me you know we've already done so. She's not shy or quiet about it."
"She's not." Visenya muttered, her cheeks turning a deep shade of red.
"And to answer you, I'd have you and her both if I could. But 'tis not solely my decision. I know you're closer to her and Daenerys than you are to I. And 'tis understandable, given the time you've had to spend with them." Aegon took a step towards her, and then another, until he was stood before her.
"You're not mad?" Visenya's gaze fell.
"At what? At Rhaenys' affections and closeness? Or the bond you share with our lovely aunt 'Naerys?" He tilted his head, and that smile turned lopsided. Handsome. "No. How could I be? Your place is here, not in the North. Any of our blood you find joy with brings me much the same."
Rhaenys hadn’t told him about Robb yet, had she?
"Visenya." He murmured. A hand of his reached out, but he didn’t continue forth; there was worry in his eyes. The same that Rhaenys had.
“You needn’t worry.” She found herself saying, wishing to see the emotion sent away. “I should think you’d remember I said I’d not flee. Nor would I be able to, even if I wanted. And I don't. Not anymore."
"Do you swear it?"
"You've my word." Visenya found herself desiring a moment of cheek, and so after a second’s pause, she imitated that meek, shy voice she’d had when first they’d speak. “Prince Aegon.”
He groaned, and, his hands shot forth to grasp her with a gentle suddenness that drew a gasp as he pulled her forth. "You know how that voice makes me feel. Stop."
"Make me." She challenged; the courage and boldness shocking even herself. That queerness, that desire… she’d blame it.
She’d welcome it.
Aegon let out a growl, and his lips crashed down onto hers with nary a warning. This time the kiss was far more heated, and the press of his lips, harder, more incessant and demanding; it was like kissing Rhaenys, she noted as she pressed against him ‘til they were close as one could be with another.
Then her mouth parted as she desired closeness. More intimacy. More love.
His tongue entered without delay.
The taste of him, the feel of him, the scent of his skin and the way his hands held her hips — she could highlight all the differences betwixt her brother and her sister, but, in the end, the warmth that bloomed inside her and the way her heart pounded were the same.
She wanted him.
Gods, she wanted them both — madness and lust and all things bastards were said to feel won out.
Visenya was the one to deepen the kiss, and her arms went around his neck, pulling him closer and down for the sake of her neck. His own found her waist, and her back arched as he held her tighter; she could feel him begin to pull her up when the pair felt the need to pull back to gasp and pant.
He encircled her with his arms and kept her close, his eyes seemingly darker as they gazed down at her.
She blinked up at him as she swiped her tongue deftly across her bottom lip, collecting the wetness that lingered. "Big brother?” She used a tone of voice that sounded foreign to her own ears; wanton. Teasing.
"You're playing a dangerous game, sweet sister." Aegon let out this low-sounding noise that shook her as his eyes darkened.
"You're the one that kissed me." Visenya’s eyes darted to his door, and then to her side, where Winter sat, staring.
"And you're the one that tempted me." He countered.
"How?"
"Your lips, your smile, your eyes. Your laugh and your voice, and the way you move. The way you are." Aegon' voice lowered and he bent his head so that their lips were a hair's width apart. "How could any resist?"
Boldness overcame her again, and in equal parts to insanity. “Why resist then?"
"Because I don't want you to think I only desire you for your body. You're my sister, and, one day, we'll be as Mother and Father are — their glances, their silent conversations, their trust. They've shared so many of their years in love. We can share ours too." He pressed a kiss to her nose, then, his teeth nipped at her bottom lip before he kissed her once more with all the gentle affection she’d come to expect.
Aegon's hands went to her thighs, and, in one swift motion, she was up and her legs around his waist, one of his hands moving to cup her bottom with a touch as gentle as the feel of his lips. She could feel his hardness poking most incessantly at her. An urge to push against it overtook her, and the first attempt at doing so, awkward as it was, still earned a groan from him and a moan from her; the friction was good. Perfect.
She needed more. His patience with her, the lack of forcefulness or urgency, ‘twas driving her wild and she… and then a teasing set of knocks came, and a second later — one that was entirely too quick for an answer to be given — the door opened in the room over.
"Little sister! Little brother!" Rhaenys’ voice matched the knocking, a teasing quality to it as she entered and closed the door behind her, the bar being set with an audible noise; but she still moved much too fast. Try as Visenya might to disentangle from Aegon, Rhaenys entered the space within some few blinks of the eye, and without pause, her eyes fell upon the two.
Aegon set her down gently then, and made to smooth her skirts for her as he turned his head to look at their big sister. "Good morn, Rhae."
"I'd say." Rhaenys hummed, and her gaze settled on Visenya. "Our little sister is quite the temptation." She made a show of raising a finger to her mouth and giving it a small lick… before moving a hand to her right brow; the eye contact revealed the true reasoning behind her former of the two actions.
"She is." Aegon agreed, his hand falling on Visenya's shoulder. “I suppose we’ll be due down come soon — I’ll join you and our cousins in the wheelhouse.”
Rhaenys rolled her eyes. "You hate the wheelhouses."
"I'll be in the company of my sisters. It won't be so bad." He then looked between Rhaenys and Visenya. "Do me the honour of escorting you both?”
Rhaenys snorted, and a smirk formed. "Greedy brother, aren't you? Wanting 'Senya and I both."
Aegon shrugged, and a lazy smile appeared. "Can you blame me?"
"No. I can't fault you. We're the most beautiful women in the Realm. Why wouldn't you want us both?" Rhaenys' grin widened, and, a moment later, she approached and kissed Aegon.
Not chastely. Not even remotely.
It was the type of kiss that'd make a scandal even amongst husband and wife given the exchange of tongues and the wet sounds that came forth.
Visenya looked away so no further thoughts or desires could take her.
When they pulled apart, Rhaenys was flushed, and she licked her lips. "Gods, that never gets old."
Aegon grinned and, without saying a word, he offered her his arm.
Rhaenys took it, and the pair walked towards Visenya, their eyes not leaving her.
"Well, little sister, won't you join us?" Aegon extended his free arm, and Visenya hesitated for a few seconds.
"No announcement's been made as of yet. We shouldn't enflame rum—"
"You're no fun." Rhaenys cut in, her lower lip jutting out in a pout. “Please?”
"But 'tis the truth." Visenya argued, ignoring the attempt from her sister at begging.
"Little sister, I thought we were past this difficulty. You were so pretty and compliant in the b— mmph!"
Rhaenys' words were cut off when Visenya lept at her, and her hand clamped over her mouth. It saw the two pressed close as Visenya’s small form all but climbed her bigger sister’s to keep quiet what she’d made to say.
"Shush, or I'll... do something." A threat was courtly, Visenya knew that much.
"I like it when you're rough, little sister." Rhaenys purred, and her hands settled on her hips; Rhaenys made no attempt at seeing Visenya off.
"That's enough, Rhae. We should go. We'll be late." Aegon pulled the two apart, and saw an arm looped through one each of theirs. He had a beaming smile on his face as he started them off.
Victorious now that 'Senya was on his other side, Rhaenys smiled. "Lead on, Brother."
Visenya winced when she saw Ser Swann was to ride against a very, very large man with a dog shaped helm. She'd spotted the latter a few times during the tourney, and his skill had impressed her as much as his face had bothered her to gaze upon. His brother, a man seldom seen outside of the Westerlands, was supposedly larger still — Rhaenys and Tyene had informed her of such on account of Father having knighted him.
"Who is the knight?" She desired to know the name of the behemoth that was riding.
"Ser Sandor Clegane. Hound, to his masters." Rhaenys was the one to answer her question, and her lips thinned. "He follows around Cersei Lannister and her children. His brother, Ser Gregor, is the Mountain that rides."
"I'd heard tales."
"Of the Mountain?" Aegon's lips pulled downwards. "He sees to 'unruly' smallfolk and nobles alike in Lord Tywin's lands. Father would never allow such a creature into his service, nor even the city — he even regrets bestowing the title of Knight upon him. I'll not lift his ban when I rule."
A loud roar from the crowd caused the three to return their attention to the tilt, and they saw Ser Sandor had unhorsed Ser Swann, the latter seemingly winded and stunned.
"Gods, Ser Swann's lost. A pity." Rhaenys pursed her lips. "We'll need see that smug bitch's face."
"What? Who?" Visenya glanced at her sister, then her brother, and saw their expressions; it was as if they'd bit into a lemon.
"Cersei Lannister." Rhaenys elaborated, her jaw clenching. "She thinks she'll win a necklace ‘mine that I'd wagered."
Aegon groaned. "I told you not to. Father had it made from the rubies the Usurper had struck off in that glancing blow. He'd be most displeased."
"I've not lost it yet." Rhaenys shot back. "Nor do I plan to."
"You're lucky I love you. I'll see safe the damned thing myself when I prove victorious." Aegon leaned 'cross Visenya, and pressed a quick kiss to Rhaenys' cheek.
As one might expect, the nearby Nobles and the smallfolk that were looking upon them as they awaited the next tilt, all started to converse, and a few men, and even women, laughed or cheered. It seemed affection was a more common and welcome thing than she'd thought. F- Her Uncle had never been very open in such a way with Lady Catelyn.
Even she, Robb and the others seldom got hugs or kisses on the forehead.
Only when they were babes had he seemed more... open and tender. She didn't remember, of course, but she'd witnessed it by way of Rickon and Arya.
"See? No harm." Aegon's hand found her thigh, and he squeezed. "One from you too, little sister? For good luck? I'm to be the last tilt of the day after these next pair."
Visenya gave him a long, hard stare. After a few seconds’ time, she gave a gentle tap to the closer of her cheeks.
"No kiss?" He had the faintest of pouts.
She narrowed her eyes, then, slowly, she leaned in, and, with her lips pursed, she made to do as he asked. All under his gaze too; nearer and nearer her lips grew to his…
But she was quick, and her head moved at the last second, and her lips landed upon his nose.
"Tease." Aegon murmured, his fingers curling 'round her own. "I'll get you for that."
Visenya let out a laugh, and when he jolted towards her, his hands moving to tickle her sides, she only gasped before making to wrestle him just as she’d have done with Robb or Arya.
Rhaenys' hands fell on them, and she forced the two apart.
"Now now, we should be calm. We're being watched." She whispered, and her lips curved into a smirk. "There’s always time late in the eve to do as you were, and with less clothes."
"Rhaenys!" Visenya hissed, and she turned her face away, her cheeks flaming.
"Oh? Do I tease you too much?" Rhaenys cooed, and her hands playfully prodding at her face. “Look at those pretty blushing cheeks. I love how easily you flush, little sister. You're adorable."
"Stop it." Visenya pushed at her, and she let out a groan.
Rhaenys did not.
"Adorable. Lovely. Sweet. Pretty. Beautiful. You're the most gorgeous thing I've ever laid eyes on." Rhaenys whispered, all the while enjoying with a most sinister and teasing smirk as Visenya tried to combat the flush such words provoked.
"She is." Aegon agreed, his hand slipping higher on her thigh.
"See?" Rhaenys tapped her nose and laughed. “Now I’ll stop, I swear it. You’re as red as I think’s possible.”
Visenya, her heart beating faster than a hummingbird's wings, said naught; she only looked upon her lap as she tried to combat the heat that’d come forth. Her siblings were entirely too good at provoking her with words.
But thankfully, the three were quiet for the remainder of the match, until Ser Barristan’s horse made a noise of panic as the old man took a vicious-sounding blow, before he was sent to the ground.
She turned away then, and made to rise; she sought the inner solar of the Royal Chambers, and the food and drink within.
Rhaenys grabbed her arm. "Sit, little sister. Aegon goes after your Ser Loras.”
“No. It’ll be a few minutes time at the least, and I'm thirsty and hungry. You two stay, if you wish." Visenya tried to free her arm, but her sister held fast.
"Sit please, little sister?" Rhaenys batted her eyes. “We can eat something together af—”
"She's thirsty, Rhae." Aegon rose too, and he took hold of her other arm. “Vaella, Tyene, see to my little sister’s wants, won't you?” He took a few steps with his strong, veiny and calloused hand still ‘round her arm; it was so much larger than hers. "Come, sweet sister. You can lean 'gainst me, if you wish — I’ll be the ever-handsome escort."
"No." Visenya gently tugged her arm away and stepped aside, but then, her eyes fell on the pair; her siblings were looking at her curiously. “I’ll be back in a mere few minutes. Vaella and Tyene can keep me company ‘til then.”
Rhaenys gave a small nod, and Aegon, after a brief pause, did too; neither pressed her when before, she imagined they’d have done so.
They were learning.
With that, Visenya moved inwards, the smirking Tyene and the polite, demure Vaella followed.
“Here, Princess,” Tyene was quick to serve her, and a sweet smile formed, showing her even teeth.
Visenya eyed the girl of the same paleness she herself had. She seemed so thin and sweet, with hands of the gentlest and most deft nature. Even the illustrious blonde hair atop her head was so light that it all but shone when the sun shined upon it as if she were some lady from a song. Visenya wondered just what she desired with the recent increase in time spent around her; then she looked to the plate of grapes as hunger won out.
They looked ripe and delicious, the skin a dark purple, and they glistened as if wet. She took one and popped it into her mouth, marvelling at the burst that came forth when she bit down. Her brows rose as she chewed and even more filled her mouth; it was sweet, and the juice was sugary and tasty.
The next she took and began to lower for Winter’s sake, but Tyene took her hand, and her eyes locked with her own.
For a second, Visenya felt fear given who it was beside her, and her heartbeat began to increase. What did the other girl want? Nobody save for family had been so bold as to touch her, much less someone not her blood — a retort was due, and she made to open her mouth.
Tyene, however, had no intention of waiting to speak, or hurting her it’d seem. “Grapes prove themselves a danger to dogs, Princess.” The blonde brought the fruit to Visenya’s mouth instead, and, slowly, pressed it to her lips.
After a moment, she began to bite and chew as she pondered just what the girl had said and just how she’d acted.
It was odd.
Visenya swallowed.
Then, before she could say aught, Vaella spoke, her soft voice barely above a whisper; she seemed equally as scandalised as Visenya.
"Cheese or bread or carrots would please your noble companion.” The girl of her likeness set her eyes upon the Direwolf that was her most majestic Winter, who was laying by her side, his head resting upon Visenya’s lap.
Winter's ears pricked up at the words as if he understood, and, when he lifted his head, his eyes locked on the plate in Vaella's hand — he’d been cheated out of his grape only a second past, after all.
"A carrot, Princess?" Vaella prompted.
"A carrot for him, if you please."
Vaella nodded, and, without a word, she broke a carrot in half, and, slowly, she offered the first half.
"Winter!"
Winter's ears pricked again, and his head turned to look at Vaella. When he saw what she was offering, slowly, he moved towards her, and once close enough, gently took it from her out-stretched hand.
After he took the first and then the second, when the third was being given, Winter moved to lay his head on the other girl's lap. He seemed content to receive food and pets and scratches from Vaella, and she too, appeared to like giving them based on the Valyrian whispers and myriad of scratches being given.
"He's not usually one to trust as easily as that." Visenya said aloud for the benefit of the other girl. 'Twas true too, though she didn’t feel the need to say as much aloud. In truth, she was curious; she too had thought Vaella more sincere and kinder than the rest, and apparently Winter agreed.
"What about you?" Tyene was closer now, and, though Visenya was startled, she did not move away.
"Me?"
"Do you trust easily?" Tyene's tone was innocent, and her smile unfading.
"No." She answered, and a second later, her gaze left the smiling girl with startlingly blue eyes, and fell on her lap, where her hands rested. "Eventually, not easily."
Tyene's smile grew. "Good."
Visenya felt the desire to question her, but then, she heard the voices of her siblings. Whatever was being conversed stopped being such when they came into view of her and the girls near to her.
"Little sister! We're here!" Rhaenys came in first, and a wide, beaming smile was on her lips.
Aegon was beside her, and he sported a grin rather than the toothy look their sister was giving.
"Did you enjoy yourself?" Rhaenys asked as her eyes fell on the plate, then the cups, and the pitcher.
"Not as much as you two, I'd wager." Visenya said, and, her head turning, she looked over the pair.
Tyene's giggling did not go unnoticed, but when Rhaenys shot her a glance, the girl was the picture of innocence.
Vaella, for her part, had looked down, the pretty smile and slight pink tint to her cheeks, the only thing that gave her away.
"It seems our little sister is as cheeky as you are, dear brother." Rhaenys remarked. "But, 'tis no matter. The last tilt shall be beginning soon. Let us away after you get your token of affection."
"A fine reminder, Sister." Aegon looked to 'Senya then. "What say you, sweet sister? Am I worthy of a kiss upon my cheek, or must I win a bout to receive such?"
Visenya looked pointedly at Vaella and Tyene. No announcement had been made, and yet she knew her sister's mind.
Rhaenys did not care.
"Come on then, Aegon." Visenya arched a brow at him and sat straight whilst he approached.
Rhaenys snorted and a grin broke across her lips as she watched from whence they’d come unmoving.
Aegon, however, still only smirked and with his eyes not leaving her own, he knelt upon reaching her.
Visenya whispered. “Your last, if you lose.” she pressed a kiss to his cheek then, and her lips lingered. He smelt as a man did, only, there was a scent that was all his own. One that felt… no, was comforting. She liked it.
She shouldn’t. But she liked it.
"Thank you, sweet sister. You've the most pleasant lips." He kissed her cheek and pulled her in for a hug. "Now I've every reason to win." The gruffness in his tone that was so unlike her brother seemed heard by Rhaenys and Tyene both, given the look they shared.
She prodded him as he turned, ignoring it; she didn’t wish to ponder. "I expect you to return victorious. My favour and my kiss should not go unrewarded."
Aegon grinned and a laugh rumbled in his chest. "As you say, my Princess." He gave a dip of his head to Vaella and a small smile to Tyene; he moved back to Rhaenys not more than a few seconds later.
"Shall we, little brother?" Rhaenys linked their arms and led him out.
Aegon would ride in the semi-finals and finals on the morrow.
He had succeeded, again, riding as elegantly and strongly as ever she'd seen him, and had done as she'd asked; he'd returned victorious. As could be said whensoever their family was so much as seen, the people had cheered and clapped, and she'd heard their words — 'Long live the Dragon Prince!'
'Prince Aegon!'
'Aegon! Aegon! Aegon!'
And, amongst the cheering, the chanting, the screaming and the hollering, she'd seen his grin and his nod, and she'd been sure his eyes were upon her and Rhaenys; they always seemed to be.
Seated together as they were, it was easy for his gaze to find the both of them.
She smiled; it'd seemed her kiss had given him some luck. Mayhaps the tales were true, and such things were real — Arya and her would laugh after such a thought was shared, were her little sister here.
"He did well." Rhaenys commented, and her smile grew as she mistook the fond look on Visenya’s face. "Our brother did himself proud. I'd hoped for nothing less. Now, there's the question of the final victor. Will it be Ser Loras, Ser Jaime, Our Aegon, or Cersei's dog?"
"Ser Loras." Visenya looked over to her knight, and spotted the small, boyish smile he sported at the mention she'd made of him. "I know not how, but he'll win."
Rather than scoff, Rhaenys only leaned back and gave her a look. "A wager then, sweet sister? I say 'twill be our dear brother, and not Ser Loras, or either of the others."
“No confidence in your knight, Mandia ?” Visenya’s sweet tone was proven false by the look she wore alone; a raised nose and an arched brow.
“Plenty of, you cheeky little thing.” Rhaenys made to pinch at her, but only ended up playing with a hand when Visenya intercepted it. “Our Aegon’ll win, ‘tis the way of things — now, the wager?”
Visenya shifted slightly as Rhaenys pulled back her hand, and now fully looking away from her brother and the field below, her brows rose. Rhaenys had to know what she’d say. "I told you before I've no coin — no—"
"A dance with our brother." Rhaenys cut her off. "If you win, I'll see Uncle Oberyn call up a steed from Dorne. A special one. White as your Winter and sweet as you. He’ll breed one if one doesn’t exist."
Rhaenys knew the way to her heart, and try as she might, Visenya found herself wanting that horse. Dornish Sand Steeds were known for their beauty, swiftness, and their durability. They weren't the simple, brutish and large mounts so many a man preferred, nor were they the beautiful and fragile creatures many women chose.
Gods.
She'd never dreamt of having a thoroughbred of such a type.
"One dance?"
"You'd have more? Bold, aren't you?" Rhaenys didn't give her a chance to respond. "Fine, little sister — two dances with our brother, and a stroll in your Godswood with me. I know it's special to you, and you're special to me."
She wanted the horse, and her heart longed for her sibling's affection the more time she spent in the accursed Southron land. She needed it. She desired it.
Her Gods had pushed her here, so surely this was their will no matter how... queer and wrong it might be. Why else would they let her be taken South, if not for some greater purpose such as the one Father spoke of?
"Deal." Visenya wouldn't let Rhaenys take from her anything more. Two dances, and a walk in her Godswood was a fair deal.
"Perfect." Rhaenys' grin was wide and victorious, then it shifted as her eyes moved just beyond her. "Tyene, Vaella, help my sister bathe when she returns to Maegor’s? You should know the oils, perfumes and snacks she favours by now." She didn't wait to hear the answer, and, a moment later, her arm hooked with her own, and, together, the pair made their way to the stairs. As they did so, Rhaenys whispered to her. "I’m sure you'd wish for me to join you in the bath again, little sister, but I'll be tending to Aegon's hurts, and his needs... mayhaps we'll have lessons of that ilk soon. He's a young, healthy, handsome, and strong Prince. He has a need for his sisters to fulfill, and I know I could use your help in the future"
"Rhaenys."
"Yes, little sister?"
Visenya prodded her. “I’ll see to it I bathe with ‘Naerys alone if you keep teasing."
Rhaenys only grinned. “Teasing. I’ll be good.” She took up a hand and down they went; Visenya could swear Tyene was smiling in a fashion most... devious.
That girl seemed a schemer.
Visenya gave a smile Dacey's way. She always seemed just as eager as 'Senya herself when it came to seeing Rickon, and as of late, she'd had scant time to spend with him.
"Princess." Dacey returned the smile, and gestured to the door. "Shall I?"
"Please." Visenya gave a nod.
Dacey knocked, then she opened the door and stepped inwards, and 'Senya followed, her eyes on her younger brother's form.
Rickon was standing by a dry nurse, the woman's hand on his shoulder, and he was staring at her with a…
Gods, he was pouting, but 'Senya didn't take anything more in; she felt a spike of jealousy, and it was all she could do to not tell the woman off sans any reason.
"Rickon!"
"Sister!" Rickon ran forward, and he wrapped his arms around her legs. "Up."
She swept him up and brought him close to her chest, her head resting on his.
"Missed you."
"I've missed you too." She kissed his hair, and she squeezed him tight. It felt good in a manner that was hard to say when she held him aloft, and she never wanted to let go. "How's my little pup been?"
"Bored. You’re never here."
She pursed her lips. Visenya would need spend more time with him, or have her Rickon join her throughout the day. "Well, we'll spend a day together, how's that sound? Would you like that, little brother?"
"Yes!" Rickon grinned.
Visenya couldn't help but do the same. He was adorable; she wondered if her future children would be as he is. It was something that'd always seemed so far off. Impossible, at times.
But if Mother and Father had their way, she'd be wedded and whelped by the time she turned seven and ten.
The thought of a babe in her arms, her own babe, her child, a mix of her and Aegon, was as queer as the thought of laying with him... and yet, who else was there to imagine making a life with? Robb? The thought, whilst pleasant since it'd see her home, was one that proved so disgusting she had to banish it.
She didn't fancy him.
Not in the way a man and woman did.
But... she did like her siblings, and the more time she spent with them, the more she wanted to know what it'd be like. To have a kiss. To share blankets and caresses… and more.
Visenya was pulled from her thoughts when Rickon gave a little tug at her braid.
"Would you like to go for a ride with me?" She nipped at his finger and earned a giggle before he gave his answer.
"Yes!" Rickon nodded.
"We can go for a walk then."
"Wolfs!" Rickon grinned and hugged her, and his head moved to rest on her chest. "Love you."
"And I love you, my sweet little pup." Visenya hugged him and rocked him, and as she started back whence she'd come with her little brother in her arms, she gave but one tap to her thigh; Winter and Rickon's pup were quick to join.
The former, quietly and with grace ever-befitting his coat and breed.
The latter, with barks and awkward steps on paws much too large for its body.
Vaella had accompanied her in the wheelhouse with Rickon... as had Tyene and Aegon.
When Rhaenys saw the company, she'd only smiled and said she and Nymeria and a few of her other ladies, such as Lannia Darry, Eyme Crakehall, and Thalina Grafton would see to a few things since so many'd be present; Visenya knew little of them, having only glimpsed them when her sister wasn’t in her presence — there was another too, a Vance if she remembered correctly. She hadn’t been there.
Aegon had taken a seat next to her and had held her hand as they’d started off, his thumb running over her skin. She didn't mind so long as Rickon didn't, and her little brother seemed... enamoured, was the best word she could find, with Vaella — she seemed so with him too.
It was nice to see him like this, and made certain her fondness of Vaella grew.
"You're very good with him." Aegon's voice was soft, and, his free hand moving, he brushed his fingers along her cheek. “Some of the servants think him wild, but one wouldn’t think so with how you handle him.”
Visenya's eyes moved, and she met his gaze. "Rickon is my brother." She spoke in a similar tone, her eyes moving to Aegon’s; he seemed as fond of her little brother as she was, and he was gentle and sweet and kind with him. "I love him — that’s what they lack."
"Of course." Aegon smiled. "I dream of putting Jaehaerys and Alysanne to shame. A score of children. Gallant sons and fierce daughters.” He looked up from where Rickon was resting against her breasts, small as they were, and his hand slipped under her chin. He turned her face to his, and she allowed him to do so without complaint.
Their eyes locked, and Visenya couldn't help but look at his lips, then his eyes. His soft expression was so sweet and... handsome, that it was all she could do not to kiss him.
"Aegon?" Her voice was breathless.
"Yes, little sister?" He whispered.
Her eyes went to Rickon as he gave a sudden snore, and his hand gripped her tunic. Apparently, Vaella’s little Valyrian hums had seen her pup straight to sleep. Betwixt that and the wheelhouse, she couldn’t blame him.
Quietly, she spoke, her eyes on Dacey as the other girl fussed over Winter and Rickon’s pup; they’d come to a temporary halt, so it’d seem. “Not when he’s present. It... it wouldn't be right."
Aegon nodded and his fingers began to stroke her cheek. "As you wish, little sister." His eyes shifted then, and a smirk came to his lips. "My sister."
She reached out a hand to fuss over Rickon’s hair while Vaella fussed over him; she’d gone so far as to bring a small blanket, as well as a brush for the wild curls atop his head. “Possessive today, big brother?”
Aegon smirked and his eyes flashed, and his voice was a growl. "I am.”
Tyene seemed the only one to hear it, and that scheming, sweet, ‘innocent’ look she wore seemed to grow. “Cousin?” Her girlish voice addressed Aegon with no small amount of meekness.
Aegon didn't seem to mind. "Yes, Tyene?"
"I’d like to thank you and the beautiful Princess Visenya for allowing me to accompany you." Tyene was smiling sweetly, and she had the air of a shy, demure girl as she continued. "I'd like to offer myself for aiding Princess Visenya if needed. I know she's but Vaella to help her, and I've nothing better to do."
"Is that so, cousin?" Aegon asked, his voice a touch... curious, and, slowly, his eyes moved over her.
"It is." Tyene answered, her eyes going to the carpeted floor of the wheelhouse as if she were afraid.
Visenya had her suspicions.
Aegon, however, didn't seem to. "I've no issue. What of you, 'Senya? A second lady-in-waiting should be a most welcome addition — I know Mother, Daenerys and Rhaenys all have four or five each.”
Her eyes took in the blonde, and the sweet smile the girl gave her. There was that ever-permanent innocence she wore, and that look deep in her blue eyes that spoke of something… unperceivable.
To Visenya, that spoke of a devious mind; she was close with Rhaenys, just like Nymeria, and the two had teased before. Mayhaps they shared other… qualities with her sister.
But Visenya wasn't against another companion. She desired not to overwork Vaella, and Mother, Rhaenys, Daenerys — they were all busier and busier now that duties had begun to be restored. 'Senya hadn't realised just how much they'd put on halt whilst she'd been in Winterfell.
This would do her good too, having one of Oberyn’s daughters close. A friend in even one couldn’t be anything but a boon.
"No." She finally answered. "I don't have an issue with her."
"Wonderful!" Aegon smiled and his head dipped, his lips brushing her forehead. "Another couple'd do you well, I think. Mayhaps one of the Celtigars, and a Dayne. Or a Fowler. There’s many a worthy option."
Visenya frowned. He'd mentioned only Valyrians and Dornish — Rickon made a noise atop her lap, and partially shifted into that of Vaella's as the bouncing continued. Her eyes went to him. "Rickon."
"Is fine," Aegon intercepted her. "Vaella's doting on him just as oft and sweetly as you are, even as he sleeps atop you both — you said you'll be taking him along with you for the rest of the day too, didn't you?"
"I did." Visenya nodded.
"Then relax, sweet sister." Aegon squeezed her hand. "He'll come to no harm, least of all while he's in here with us. Dacey is just outside, Ser Loras and Ser Darry too, not to mention over three-score of our Household Guard. He's as safe as he can be, and I know he'll have a great deal of fun once he's able to run around in the woods or by the river. That wolf's blood that Father mentions runs strong in the both of you."
Visenya's lips quirked at that. Aegon's words had eased her nerves. It wasn't as if she thought her little brother would be attacked. 'Twas just that he was small, and young, and without his mother or Uncle Eddard — somebody could try to take advantage of him or use him against her.
But she'd not let that happen.
"You're right."
"I'm always right, little sister." Aegon kissed her temple and his lips stayed. "'Tis why you should trust me."
Tyene's giggle did not go unnoticed.
"He's adorable, Cousin." Vaella, oblivious, gushed when Rickon giggled in the midst of his sleep. "I'm glad the King and Queen gave me the honour of attending you. I've enjoyed every moment."
"I've been glad to have you. I don't imagine I'd ever learn how to speak High Valyrian without you." Visenya smiled. Vaella and Maester Luwyn would've gotten along splendidly, she was sure.
Vaella's cheeks grew red as Visenya's own oft did, and she murmured her thanks while busying herself with Rickon.
Tyene, however, seemed to find this amusing. "The two of you seem to take to motherhood so well. I wonder if either of you will have a child before the end of the year."
Aegon gave a choked sound and, for once, he was speechless.
Visenya and Vaella were quick to look elsewhere or solely at Rickon and remain, likewise, silent. How could one respond to that?
Giggling came from Tyene. “Not a word, Princess? Lady Vaella?”
Such words saw the two mentioned stare at the smiling blonde, still with nary a word spoken aloud. When that silence lingered, none still making to speak as it dragged on and on until it seemed the awkwardness would be there for the rest of their time together… her little Rickon giggled and pulled at Vaella's hair, then 'Senya's own, suddenly energetic — he pointed betwixt them back and forth thereafter. "Pretty hair."
It broke the silence, and saw laughter come.
Visenya looked to the river, wide and flowing, and the trees beyond. She smiled at the sight and the sound of the leaves as they were caressed by the wind.
Winter was walking some few paces ahead, and Rickon, he had insisted he walk alongside her and Vaella; each had one of those tiny little hands in theirs.
Aegon had immediately sought out her other side, and he'd held her hand in the same demanding manner as Rickon, his thumb rubbing against her palm. It had a soothing effect, and a warm feeling had grown in her chest. Queerly, maddeningly, a portion of her mind said this was to be her future; her, walking with a babe and a lady-in-waiting opposite her to keep safe her child. Aegon, her brother-husband, would be holding her hand and smiling at her and their son or daughter, and the many others present would coo at the newest Prince or Princess.
It was a fantasy that didn't make her immediately desire fleeing to the North, which it would've had it been naught but a moon or so ago.
Visenya bit her lip and gave a shake of her head. Mayhaps it was Father’s words getting to her, or the dreams she’d been having as of late; even Mother’s teasing of children. She turned her gaze to Rickon, and spoke, hoping to break the silence as it proved too great a bother. "What would you like to do?"
"Water." Rickon nodded his head towards the flowing waters and gave a little tug; Vaella looked to her when he did so, but when she didn't let up, he whined and pulled harder. "Water!"
"Alright, alright, little pup." Visenya chuckled and gave a little nod to Vaella. She reached down and picked her brother up as soon as the other girl's hand had pulled away. "No going in, and no leaving my arms. You're a big, strong wolf, but even wolves have to be careful."
"Please? Please, please, please, please, please, please?" Rickon asked, his pout in full force.
Visenya would have to channel the Lady Catelyn in this moment. Love as she might to agree to any and all of her pup's requests, she could not let him go swimming in a river as fast-flowing and large as this.
"No, little brother." She shook her head and bounced him. "We can go to the beach nearer to the City... Aegon?" Visenya took the pout Rickon had given her, and turned it upon her brother, given he or another member of the family'd be required to join her for any such journey.
"We can't, 'Senya." Aegon smiled and ran his fingers through her hair, and, when her brow furrowed, he clarified. "Not this day — on the morrow or another day, mayhaps. There'll only be three tilts today, but 'tis the end of the Tourney, so a grand spectacle's expected. You'll not want to miss it."
"Oh." She felt bad for Rickon. He was much, much too young to see the jousts — she'd thought them tame and grand, then a 'man' hardly a year older than she had taken a broken lance to an opening in his thigh armour. The amount of blood he'd lost was.... It was enough for her to turn pale and sick-feeling despite hunting and skinning beasts as she’d done.
Aegon must've seen how crestfallen she looked, and his voice was kind as he addressed her. "Come now, sweet sister. 'Tis not as if it shan't happen at all." His gaze switched to Rickon then, and he swung around, ahead of her and the others. Her brother disregarded grass and dirt alike as he went to a knee; he was so tall, but now, for a change, he towered over neither her or Rickon. "How would you like to watch Ser Barristan and the other Kingsguard spar on the morrow's morn, little Lord Stark? They'd be honoured to fight before a fierce and noble Northern warrior."
Rickon's eyes lit up.
Visenya's did too. "Would you like that, my little pup?" She'd seize her brother's generosity.
"Yes!" Rickon bounced in her arms.
"Wonderful!" Aegon beamed, and he looked up at her, his smile widening. "'Tis settled then — now, you wished to see the river?"
Rickon nodded and gave a tug, then pointed excitedly.
"Alright, a few steps closer." Visenya loved the thick woods and the rivers of the North, but here, it was muddy and slippery, and the water moved faster than it had any right to. She liked it not; her grip on Rickon tightened.
"Princess?" Tyene called. "If I may?"
She turned, and found the Dornish woman but a few steps away. In her arms, she held a basket, and from its opening, the aroma of baked goods drifted even despite the breeze and cloth covering.
"Mayhaps we could have a small meal up ahead?" Tyene was looking at her, and, for a moment, it was as if the girl was looking to her chest or the curves of her waist, and her expression was... strange.
"I..." 'Senya was unsure, but, she knew not why. "I suppose. It's a bit muddy though, and Rickon'd get his clothes dirty.
"A bit of mud won’t see him harmed, sweet sister.” Aegon, his arm about her waist, smirked at her. "He'll wash up nicely. I hear you’ve even taken to helping in his bathing — our sweet Auntie too.”
She could feel her cheeks warm. "Rickon's a child, and Mother says that it's good to spend time with him."
"It is." Aegon laughed. "And, 'tis also good for him to spend time with me."
Visenya narrowed her eyes. Meek and nervous she might've been for the bulk of her time with her new family, but the wolf-blood she had flowing in her veins, it was strong and fierce.
Aegon, it seemed, saw her look. "My little sister doesn't agree?" He asked, his tone a touch surprised, and his brow raised.
"He's still young. I'll not have him exposed to anything."
Aegon's eyes grew hot. "What is it you think I'll have him do?"
Visenya huffed. "You said you'd take him on as a squire. He's too young, and he's not of an age for any training. Rickon belongs with me or the dry nurses. I’ll not allow otherwise."
"Is that so, little sister?"
She pursed her lips, and nodded, daring him to say otherwise.
"I'd not have him become a page 'til he turns seven, or eight, mayhaps. Starks are hardy and resilient. He'd start earlier than ten or nine when compared to these weaker Southron men." Aegon used her words against her, and, with his free hand, he poked her nose. "Do you doubt my judgement, Visenya?"
"I know what a page does." She had no interest in arguing further. "But if you say it's far off, what would you have him do? He'd only get into mischief or trouble. My Rickon's hard to control."
"I would have him spend time with me." Aegon said, his voice firm. "He's not a burden. 'Tis a great honour for me to take him as a squire in the future, and beyond that, he's in need of a man's influence. You and Daenerys and even Mother are doing a wonderful job, and I'll not diminish that. But, 'tis true that a boy needs a man to guide him. Father's done so with me, and I'd do the same for him — now isn’t that enough of this, Visenya? Our food calls."
She didn't want to let go of the issue, and, had she been a bit bolder with so many around, she'd have spoken up.
But she’d not give cause for an argument, least of all with Rickon here, and her brother was as stubborn as she was, so Visenya let it lie and gave a nod, her eyes turning to Vaella and Tyene; they were gracious enough not to say anything or give away how they might feel having overheard the minor disagreement and moment of tension.
"We’re not finished." She answered, fine to leave the matter momentarily settled, given he wasn’t like to start without her saying so.
"As you say." Aegon smiled.
As they walked, his hand never left hers, and his fingers played with her own. It was a sweet gesture, but now it felt soured in some part.
The air, it had been light and fun, but now, 'twas awkward... and she was nervous. Rickon should be kept safe and not exposed to anything.
He was hers.
Had she still been able to sleep in her own chambers rather than Rhaenys', she'd have spirited him away to her in the dead of night. Not by Ser Loras or any of her guardsmen, but by Dacey. She was true and of the North, and wouldn't betray her or attempt to halt her taking Rickon to her chambers.
'Twas not even a question.
"Here." Tyene's voice cut through her thoughts.
When Visenya looked up, she saw the Dornish woman was gesturing to a spot of land, the ground a touch more solid and dry, and, as she followed, a little blanket was spread out atop one that was far, far larger.
Visenya shifted Rickon from the arm she'd been holding him aloft with — he was too heavy to keep him up with just the one — and sat down with him in her lap, Aegon at her side.
Tyene was quick to kneel, and, her basket placed betwixt her legs, she began to take out treats and sweets and even a loaf of bread and some dried meats with spices visible. It wasn't the fare she'd become used to in the Red Keep, but it was… more familiar, and the scent of the fresh bread especially reminded her of Winterfell and the kitchens. Many times she and Robb had snuck there for a bite or two when the cooks weren't looking. They’d always been kind enough to offer them whatsoever they wanted, and with smiles on their faces.
He'd been so kind and gentle and sweet, her eldest brother.
Now he was colder.
She knew the blame wasn't his alone, but it was still hard to think about him and not grow angry or sad.
Aegon and Rhaenys, House Targaryen, the South, why did any of it mean she couldn't hug him and hold him close? Why did it mean she couldn't call him Robb or Brother and share laughter or play or simply spend time together?
Why had they torn them apart?
Visenya heard a twig snap.
She looked up, her eyes scanning the tree line, but it was just paranoia — the cause had been Vaella. She'd not sat down yet.
"Cousin." She called out to the other girl.
"Yes, Princess?"
"Please, come join us. You must be hungry." Visenya gestured.
Vaella's face had gone red, and she gave a shy smile. "Are you certain?"
"Of course." Aegon spoke first. "Come, sit. We'll have no more delays."
Somebody else, or rather, two somebodies, weren't to be left out; Winter and Rickon's Direwolf came trotting, their paws covered in mud and dirt and their snouts dripping with water.
"Winter, no!" Visenya was quick to reach out a hand, and, before the large beast could move atop the cloths that’d been placed for seating, she pulled him to the side and gave him a few pats. "Where'd you go boy? Maybe you're the one that needs dipping in the river."
"Wolf!" Rickon squealed, and, pulling himself free of her arms, he crawled to Winter and pressed his head against his side, his tiny fingers gripping at the white fur.
Winter, for his part, simply took the pets and pats with a silent and gentle grace. Unlike many beasts, he seemed ever-so-fine with children.
"Good boy." She praised, her fingers scratching at his ear. He was such a sweetheart, and she couldn't help but adore him; her silent protector. With how quick he was to listen and how obedient and loyal he was, it was as if the Old Gods themselves had sent him for her.
"I don't envy your job, Princess." Tyene laughed. "That's one wet, muddy, smelly beast."
"I welcome the task." Visenya smiled and turned to the Dornish girl. "Winter is sweet as any companion could ever be, and my little Rickon loves him. Besides, I'll have to deal with worse than a dirty direwolf or a stinky, sticky pup."
Tyene nodded and smiled, and, when she did, it seemed real. "You speak truly, Princess. I would think one day you'll have a babe or two that will need cleaning.”
Gods, why did everyone speak so much of babes in the south? When she’d been a bastard, it’d seldom come up.
Aegon's hand brushed her leg as it sought Winter for pats. "She will. Mayhaps sooner than later, if my sweet sister is of a mind."
"Aegon!" Her head whipped around, and she stared at him, her heart beat going fast as could be, and her stomach fluttering on account of the sheer boldness his words contained.
He raised his hands, a teasing smile so akin to Mother’s or Rhaenys’ coming to his face.
Visenya could but peer at him as he brought her face up by the chin, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. It was brief, but he lingered, and his breath warmed her skin. "Your adorable, little sister — Vaella’s Father, Lord Celtigar, and our Uncle Oberyn both have seats on the Small Council.”
“So…” Visenya lowered her voice. “They’re aware of what Mother and Father desire? The whole Council is aware? I thought it a secret... something to be kept between the Royal Family, and perhaps the Small Council 'til I decided if... when, I desire it."
"Only those who must know." Aegon promised. "Mother and Father are of a mind to not hide or keep it a secret from the Council. Issues would arise if they did so. Lord Celtigar and Uncle Oberyn are amongst those that have no issue, and the rest will accept it. There's a reason Lord Tywin only made one offer for your hand."
Visenya frowned. "The Lannisters asked for my hand?"
"Once. They asked for it, and were turned away. 'Twasn't long after that dinner we shared with them. Remember it? The one you shared a dance with one of Cersei's sons." Aegon almost wore a pout, and his hand brushed her side.
She remembered.
"Are there others?"
"Lord Tyrell offered." Aegon gave a nod Tyene's way. "Quentyn still hopes, though Mother's put him in his place. Harrold Hardyng of the Vale thought it’d do much to make amends — as if they deserve any joining to our family. Edmure Tully too, fool that he is. There're more, dozens more, but 'tis nothing of consequence or import."
Vaella made a silly-sounding noise that did much to lessen the feelings coursing through her.
Then little Rickon giggled, and the effect was doubled; she thanked the gods for that.
When 'Senya looked down, she saw his gaze was elsewhere, on... Winter and his pup. Somehow, one of them had caught a fish. A small thing to be certain, but still, ‘twas an impressive thing.
She smiled.
"We should eat." Visenya suggested.
"You're right, Princess." Tyene picked up a slice of apple, and held it aloft. "Could I feed your pup, Princess? Or mayhaps, if it please you... I could feed you? I promise, my hands are clean."
Aegon let out a hearty laugh that saw Rickon jolt in surprise and her glare at him; her arms tightened 'round her little brother. "You scared him."
"Apologies." Aegon leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Our cousin’s words were amusing.”
Visenya sighed and ran her hands through Rickon’s hair as Vaella gave him a piece of bread she’d put honey on; Visenya had to aid him lest he drop it or feed it to one of the pups.
"Would you like some, Princess?"
Her gaze flicked from Aegon, to Tyene. That sweet look had returned to the Dornish girl's expression as she held aloft a piece of fruit. Hungry as she was, feeding Rickon was more important… unless.
"Yes, please." Visenya took the apple slice in her mouth, her lips brushing Tyene's fingertips as the other girl popped it into her mouth.
The Dornish girl giggled, and her eyes grew brighter, the blue hue shining like jewels.
"You've a fine sister, Aegon. Your betrothed-to-be is ever so lovely and sweet and kind. Rhaenys must be pleased. Her little brother and her little sister, and all to herself." Tyene gushed. "It'll be as the stories were."
Their namesakes. The original conquerors.
"Oh cease your teasing, cousin." Aegon rolled his eyes. "You, Arianne, Rhaenys, Nymeria -- All of you do so endlessly."
"Mayhaps." Tyene giggled. "But, you must admit, Princess Visenya's most lovely. I think she might do white better than even I. Truly. I wish I was half as beautiful as you, Princess."
"I..." Visenya couldn't stop the blush.
"See! So innocent and sweet." Tyene gushed, and then her eyes darted betwixt Vaella and Rickon. "Same as the little wolf."
Rickon perked up at the sound of his name. "Me? I'm a big wolf, not little." He growled and bared his teeth, nipping at 'Senya's fingers and earning a snicker; that was the Rickon she knew.
"Oh, I see the resemblance, sweet little wolf." Tyene smiled.
Vaella giggled. "He's got the Northern spirit they speak of."
"He does." Aegon agreed, and his hand went to 'Senya's hair, his fingers running through her locks just as hers did with her Rickon's; she leaned into the touch, and a part of her wondered what he'd say if she were to rest her head on his lap and let him stroke her hair. It was something so oft written of; gallant knights or charming, handsome Princes that stroked their lady's hair, or rubbed their shoulders or fed them bites of fruits and sweets and honey.
Visenya forced herself to sit up and straight, and reaffirmed the grip her arms had on her Rickon.
It wouldn't do if others saw, be they smallfolk that passed on the road at their rear, merchants and their wagons, or even some of the Lords or Ladies that ventured along this road.
She couldn't be seen behaving like that.
Not in public.
It wasn't proper.
So she sat up and continued the smalltalk with Tyene and Vaella.
But she was still keenly aware of her brother. How he sat, how he spoke, and how his hands would occasionally touch her — an idle move of errant strands of silver-gold hair, a finger that'd brush against her arm or her side or her cheek.
And his eyes, those violet hues that shined with the intensity and power and strength that her Father had, but his were softer, his expression more loving and tender. Even his glances at Rickon, or Winter and the Shaggy one came forth for feed, were kind.
Her brother seemed a good man the more she learned of him.
And so, as the food dwindled, and their talk continued, she let her head rest on his shoulder, and felt the warmth of his body as he wrapped his arm about her.
They were brother and sister, and there was nothing wrong with it.
Rickon settling atop her lap, tired and full of belly and ready to nap, was an added bonus.
Visenya felt the same, and found a contentness as his warmth seeped into her, and the gentle breeze cooled the heat on her cheeks.
'Twas nice, and she didn't want it to end.
But, her Aegon did need ride and spectate what remained amidst the list just as she did.
"Let's go." He said, his words whispered. "We'll take the pup."
She looked to him, the heavy sense of tired from food and a good day overcoming her.
Aegon gestured towards Rickon, his face smudged with jam and honey and his hands sticky.
Yet, all that as it was, her Rickon was asleep. His pup was much the same — he’d been fed from their table… or blanket. Each looked peaceful, and sans trouble or concern.
Rickon had buried his dirty little face in her chest, his arms about her, and Winter had curled up at her side, his nose tucked into his tail.
"We'll not be parted." She said, her voice quiet.
"I'd not dream of it, sweet sister." Aegon replied, his tone gentle.
So, with careful hands, he helped her up — her arms full of Rickon, and the Shaggy pup in Aegon’s. Winter peered at them with lidded eyes, but otherwise showed no interest in the world, and only rose when Tyene and Vaella did as they’d done.
“You know, you need not do this, Princess. I would carry him for you." Vaella's cheeks were a bright red. "It'd be an honour."
“I’ll keep him — you kept him pleased much of our time out.” Visenya smiled at the other girl.
Tyene tisked, and in an instant, Aegon looked her way. It seemed a tell of hers, one that family and those close knew.
"What is it, cousin?" Aegon asked.
Tyene shook her head, her eyes going down. “Nothing, Prince Aegon. I apologize. My mind wandered."
He frowned, but gave a nod.
Visenya was curious too; she sought out Vaella, but the other girl looked away.
It was a bit awkward, so, she didn't press the matter.
Soon after, the ride back to King’s Landing in that small-sized wheelhouse resumed.
They'd taken the Shaggy one and her Winter in with them; each was more than content to rest on the carpeted floor space betwixt her and the others.
"Ah, and so we've arrived." Aegon pushed open the wheelhouse's door the second after it came to a halt. He turned back and fixed those within with a smile, though it settled on her. "My ladies, Sister, allow me to help you down."
The Shaggy pup and her own Winter jumped out, the former letting out a growl at the men in armour and the latter sniffing the air, before turning and sitting on his haunches; he was ever a vigilant and watchful beast.
Visenya gave a gesture to Tyene and Vaella to go first. Improper some might consider it, but Visenya had Rickon's sleeping form on her lap, and her arms were about him. His head, those precious little curls, were nuzzled into her neck, and she wouldn't risk waking him. Thus, slow movements were necessary, slower than would be polite for the others present.
"I'll wait for you, Princess." Vaella said.
"Nonsense." She shook her head, a smile on her lips. "I'd not keep you waiting. This box is hotter than riding atop a horse — take my brother's hand. I'll come after you."
"But Princess, you're a... Princess."
"All the more reason for you to go first if I wish it," Visenya said it not arrogantly or rudely, but with a faint teasing hint that had her lips curve into a playful smile. With all the time she’d spent with her family, the act of teasing had finally begun to rub off on her in a manner that seemed to cause Vaella to redden.
She could see why it was so enjoyable.
Vaella, her cheeks a bright red, nodded after those words and made to do as bid. When Aegon took her hand, she stepped down and cast a look over her shoulder before she went to the side to wait.
Then went Tyene, but not before she gave a quick curtsy and a smile.
Her brother looked back, and she swore he rolled his eyes.
"Your turn." He said, his gaze falling to her lap.
Swallowing worry, Visenya gave a little nod towards Rickon. He'd further buried his head in her chest, his arms and legs wrapping about her, and his breathing growing deeper.
Aegon chuckled and took him from her slowly, his hands supporting her brother. She watched and slid right on along after them as Aegon cradled him to his own chest, her heart racing; the tiniest part of her thought he could harm her brother. Drop him, mayhaps, or let him fall.
Just seeing Rickon in his arms sent jolts through her as so many a story about what Targaryens did to babes and children and girls.
Then she quashed those fears, and let her hands go to his, her fingers brushing the soft and pale skin of her brother.
"Are you alright, sister?" Aegon asked.
"Fine." She gave a nod and followed him as he descended the wheelhouse, her eyes on Rickon the whole while.
"Here, cousin." Tyene stepped forth.
Her hands were open and extended.
Aegon very nearly did as Tyene had offered, then he turned to her. The question was silent, but she knew his meaning.
She gave a nod, pleased he’d thought to check with her before handing Rickon off to another.
And so, gently, he passed Rickon's sleeping form to Tyene and swiveled to face her, his hands going to her sides.
"Hold onto me, little sister. I fear you and Rickon both are too short for any type of wheelhouse. It makes me wonder how you mount horses."
She huffed, and felt her face warm. With a pout, Visenya took her brother's arm. "You and Rhaenys always make mention of my size. I'm not so much shorter than the two of you, and I'm younger. I should think the two of you are meant to be taller."
There were giggles that came from Vaella and Tyene, and even Ser Loras and Dacey seemed to look amused at the exchange.
Aegon himself gave a chuckle and a nod. "'Tis true, but still, a brother must tease his little sister. Especially one that’s sorely missed out — ‘tis a brother’s duty. Isn't that right, Tyene? Vaella?”
“As you say.” Vaella bowed.
Tyene cocked her head to one side; she did the same with a hip too, the one which she was using to help ascertain the hold she had of Rickon — that made Visenya start to pull away from her brother as the other girl spoke. “I’ve not a brother to know, but my sisters, and Arianne, and my cousins… I agree, Prince Aegon. We tease, but that only means we love them."
Her cheeks burned.
"That we do." Aegon smiled. "Now, my ladies, my sweet sister, I fear I should’ve been leaving some time ago — I can already hear Rhaenys chiding me.”
Visenya had been watching Rickon, and, the moment her brother had begun to shift fully away, she'd moved to take her pup from the arms of her newest bed maid, or rather, her cousin-to-be; she wasn’t quite sure how that worked.
Her eyes darted back up when Aegon finished speaking, for he didn’t quite allow her to do as she desired — nay, he caught one slight, pale wrist, the grip not tight or forceful, yet strong.
She stared at him, and then her eyes fell to his lips, which were curved in a smirk.
"Would you give me a kiss, little sister? Something sweet to remember you by while I'm out on the field." He asked, and, for a moment, his eyes flicked to Tyene and Vaella, and then back to her.
His free hand brushed the hair from her forehead, the touch gentle and soft; he gave her an out when he made not to lean forward or pull her closer.
She knew what he wanted — it went beyond being naught but a kiss. But, she couldn't refuse him, could she?
“You ride with my favour on one arm and Rhaenys’ the other. I do believe I bade you good fortune a fair few times as well, sweet brother. Did you forget so soon, or is my memory at fault?" Visenya gave him a look; the one a Princess might.
Shy-seeming, with a smile on her lips and a faint dusting of pink across her cheeks.
"Need I beg for the favour of a kiss? You'd make me grovel, sister?" He sounded wounded, and, with his words, his face twisted into a pout. “I’ll go to my knees if you’d ask it of me.”
Visenya did as any might when seeing Aegon in such a state, and, despite herself, she laughed. It felt nice to let something so genuine out. "You would have me kiss you? In front of everyone?"
He gave a tap to his cheek, and then his answer. “Yes.”
That damned charming smile was back.
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