A/N: 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!
THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR THE KIND REVIEWS. We now get so many that it's impossible to respond to all of them, but each and every one of you taking the time to speak your support mean the world to me. Please, by all means, speak with me in Discord!
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 Arthur 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 Arthur, 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," 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.