A/N: 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.
Marna/Visenya = Female Jon Snow, the other characters should be self-evident. Thank you and have a wonderful day!
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"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 Arthur, if Visenya could correctly put a name to face. It was the man that Rhaegar oft had guarding him. Ser Jaime, Ser Oswell, 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 Arthur, 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 Arthur 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 Oswell, 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.