A/N: Surprise? Maybe? This and 7 were edited and written around the same time, so I figured I'd get this out while I was feeling productive. Chapters 9, 10 and 11 are written, not edited and not anywhere near complete imo; Chapter 12, nonetheless, has begun to see some writing.

(I don't know why either, but the copy+paste isn't working, so italics and other such things don't function. I don't have the patience to fix it. Sorry.)

Shoutout to Tannerite, Kryn_Womble and Sonicmalibu for all sorts of assistance going forward (take a look back, you might notice a few minor changes thanks to their insight and help!) Thank you all very much for reading!

Marna/Visenya = Female Jon Snow, the other characters should be self-evident. Thank you and have a wonderful day!

Feel free to join my Discord for updates, giveaways (for those who actively chat), early access and story information, link on my profile.

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!

It was a fair question to ask, Daenerys' and Visenya did so hope the other girl, her sister by choice — not entirely her own either — had already made it clear that she was a good friend to have. Visenya wasn't blind, she saw the love with which Rhaegar looked at Daenerys. It was the same love, same affection, that he used when looking at Rhaenys and Aegon, and that was of no surprise considering what she'd come to know of the man.

Tales of monstrous deeds fit him not, he seemed too soft a man, too kind. Many would likely have done far worse to the Starks than simply stealing her and Rickon away… she was lucky, as was her family.

"Any of you," Visenya finally said, her palms feeling clammy as her eyes sought out Daenerys' with more clarity. Truly, they shared the same violet colour, that and so much more; it truly was looking into a looking glass before one went out to a feast or the like.

Daenerys extended a hand as one would to a wild animal, that being tentative and cautious, and so very gentle. When her hand made contact with Visenya's before it slowly climbed to her shoulder, she moved closer still, until the two were in a small half-hug. It wasn't as Elia's motherly hugs, nor was it like one of Rhaenys' very tight and squeezing ones. Hugging Daenerys was a thing in and of itself, the softness and gentle quality of the girl had an appeal unparalleled.

It was like hugging her old father, before Rhaegar had taken the position, and her, for himself.

"I'll never harm you," One of Daenerys' hands wrapped around Visenya's waist whilst the other pet her hair, smoothing out the long locks of the same colour she possessed; even now, Visenya would oft be surprised to see her hair wasn't the black she'd grown accustomed to. "I said it earlier, you're as my sister — Targaryens look out for one another. With so few of us alive, our affection and care towards one another is vital."

I shouldn't have been so meek, Visenya cursed herself whilst remaining in Daenerys' arms. She'll probably think me a child or some soft Southron girl now.

Visenya swallowed. "My apollo—"

"You needn't apologise, nor do you need to say anything more if you'd not like to," Daenerys withdrew with a smile on her face, kind as pleasant as the one when first they'd met. "A necklace," she said abruptly, her eyes zoning in on Visenya's long, pale neck. "We'll find you a necklace before we go to see Rhaegar and the small council."

"Thank you."

Daenerys grabbed her by the hand and led her over to where all of her jewellery was kept. "You needn't thank me either. Rhaenys, on the other hand, does so love to hear thanks and praise, and I imagine… no, it's not my place. She'd be cross if my lips went too loose."

At that, Visenya couldn't help but glance at Daenerys in question as to what she'd been about to say. It seemed something of importance, but something she'd be remiss to say. Thus, as one could imagine, it made the Northern maid inquisitive; anything that could be said of Rhaenys or Aegon was a thing of importance.

"Rhaenys loves any word that I speak."

"I'd imagine that's quite true when it comes to her," Daenerys said with a small laugh as she danced deftly behind Visenya, warm hands seeking out the latter's neck to attach the necklace… and give a small impromptu massage.

One that left Visenya a near-puddle before ever they'd left.

"Done," Daenerys proclaimed as she stepped back, her hands falling to her side. "As I've said before. You're beautiful, 'Senya."

That made Visenya smile as she remembered what had accompanied those words. "Feeling vain?"

"Mayhaps a bit."

The two Princesses looked at one another, and then they abruptly began to laugh. Daenerys' form, small and only slightly more filled out than Visenya's, shook with laughter sans the care of what others might think upon hearing it; truly, there seemed a certain carelessness about her. Rhaenys and Aegon might remind her of Robb and Arya, but Daenerys seemed the embodiment of childhood… yet there was a wisdom, a true love towards those she called family that seemed deeper than most.

"Escort me?"

Daenerys slid her arm through Visenya's as she twirled on the balls of her feet, a giggle coming from her. There were no words spoken betwixt the two as Daenerys led them in a joyful gallop through the various ornate and decorated walls of Maegor's Holdfast, only giggles as the two girls tore away from their guard, their intention, the Council's chamber.

To reach it was a far walk that saw the two girls slow for their guardians upon exiting Maegor's Holdfast. As Visenya looked around, her eyes alight with wonder upon seeing the various grounds she'd seen but once, but couldn't help but take in every detail. From the grand, serpentine steps she'd been brought down to the great, red-hued walls that surrounded her. There were a myriad of plants and the like growing around them, and the scent of the water and city were far more prevalent outdoors as she was.

"Up the steps," Daenerys said with a nod at things, the moment of Visenya's observation temporarily over as she found herself led to the aforementioned place. "For many, this'll be the first they've seen of the mysterious Princess Visenya. You need but say you're uncomfortable and I'll turn us back, my brother be damned."

She means it, Visenya thought as her hold of Daenerys' arm tightened.

"Thank you," Visenya said with a dip of her head as the two reached the top of the steps, emerging from between a barracks building and… the 'Maidenvault' as Daenerys had called it. "What was its purpose?" she couldn't help but ask.

Daenerys winced at the question and increased their pace as they passed it, and a plethora of Gold Cloaks, the city watchmen. "Quite a long time ago, a man of our blood went mad and wished to keep the maidens of our family pure, lest they tempt him or others. The tale's quite tragic, not one to be spoken of in good and happy times such as these," and that was it as Daenerys spoke of the building beyond the barracks and others nearby, all the while the pair did their best to avoid the obvious gazes of all those who saw them.

And by the gods, were there ever so many people always watching the two Princesses as they pranced about, their arms locked with one another. There was the sound of the pigsty and the looks from those who worked it, the pristine steeds of the royal family, the kennel and the lovely beasts within it, the armoury — a place Visenya dearly wished to visit — and more.

Each had its own cadre of people milling about, and nearly all would stop to look at them. With every gaze, Visenya increased her pace and gave small little waves to the crowd. She'd not forgotten how kind her Uncle Eddard was to his staff, and she knew it wasn't their fault how she might feel at this point in time, and so she remained courteous and kind.

Mayhaps one day, she'd need the assistance of some of those smallfolk.

"Here, at last," Daenerys said with a gesture to the building the pair now stood before. "Herein Rhaegar and his council should be. I wasn't invited to the meeting, and though I care not what the others might think, this is to be your moment — tell me, sister, do you know of the Small Council? Who they are and the positions they hold?"

I know them not… not entirely.

"I know of Lord Mace Tyrell being the Hand of the King," Visenya paused, her eyes avoiding Daenerys when next she spoke. "But Lord Stark thought it unnecessary to learn all positions of the Small Council, or many of those who held said positions. He thought my time better spent riding, doing archery or learning how to run a household."

Daenerys entered with Visenya trailing after her, their arms disconnected so as to fit through the entryway, and then they stopped shortly thereafter in a room before the council chambers itself. "Mace Tyrell is the Hand of the King, and one of whom you need be cautious of — the Master of Coin, Tywin Lannister and the Grand Maester Pycelle are who you need watch as well. The others aren't quite so bad — Lords Tarly, and Velaryon are especially loyal, as is Lord Celtigar"

Visenya blinked, recalling the various houses. She knew not of any by the name of Pycelle, but Lannisters were known well to her, their deceit and treachery a thing of infamy in the North. Tarly and Velaryon were each vaguely recognisable, the latter more so than the former… it was a Valyrian family as well, one of the few, she believed.

As for the Celtigars, they were as unknown to her as the spider was, even if she knew a smidge of the latter.

"My thanks," Visenya said after a few seconds spent in silence, her hand holding tighter around that of Daenerys, lest the girl leave before the former thought she was ready. "Is there… that is to say, how might I need act around them? Will Father simply show me off and allow me to leave?"

"I know not. Rhaegar didn't speak much with me regarding this matter. In truth, I do believe I stole you away from Rhaenys and Aegon—" Daenerys looked around and leaned in upon spotting their two Kingsguard guarding the door, speaking in a hushed tone. "They'll be displeased, but I'm far better company than them."

Visenya couldn't help herself as she giggled, especially on account of the vague element of underlying truth that was present. Rhaenys was a kind woman, 'tis true, but overbearing, far more so than even the warning could have said. Aegon, on the other hand, was simply queer. It was so impossibly difficult to read his intentions, though she couldn't imagine a person who smiled so oft at her meant well.

"Can I aid you in any other way?"

Twas a kind question for Daenerys to ask, but one that Visenya couldn't answer truthfully. Not lest she wished to miss the meeting entirely in favour of learning whatsoever she could of the men in attendance. It was an entirely tempting idea, but one she knew she couldn't afford to make reality.

"In the evening, if you'd not be bothered. I'd like to learn as much as I can if I'm to live in this… city," Visenya had nearly wished to call it a myriad of names, none of which were entirely flattering, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. Her decision wasn't made out of love for the city or the stench thereof, but she'd not be so crass and rude as to insult a place Daenerys' family had ruled for years seemingly unending.

"I'll not lie and say it grows on you. I shan't think it'll ever do so," Daenerys said with a fond shake of her head and echoing laughter as she started toward the exit. "In the evening, then. I'll see to it in the meantime that no crowds converge. As Elia was so kind to say, we'll need to beat away the suitors early, lest they overwhelm us."

And with those words — meant in compliment but vaguely terrifying — Daenerys had gone, the soft fall of her feet echoing along with the plate of her guardian; Ser Barristan, if Visenya's memory proved correct. As for her own Kingsguard, Ser Loras Tyrell, she knew not what to think of the man or his actions. He was incredibly pro-Targaryen, of that she was certain.

Each and every man of the Kingsguard seemed close with at least one member of the Royal Family. Rhaenys and Ser Jaime seemed a frightful pair, the antithesis to Daenerys and Ser Barristan, aka, Ser Grandfather.

Few are allowed to call him as such… and he counted me amongst them.

It brought a smile to Visenya's face at the memory. Ser Barristan was a kind and true man, one of few that had honour and renown, and that was deserving of it. Few thought that even now, old and white-of-hair as the man was, they could cut their way past him and his brothers to strike at the Targaryens.

"Princess," it was Ser Loras' soft-sounding voice calling to her. "It'd be best to hurry." He portrayed confidence and charm, but also a greenness — eagerness mayhaps — that all others lacked.

Upon having said those words, the man returned to silent vigilance, his hand on the pommel of his sword and his eyes scanning the hallway, thin and slight and empty as it was.

Visenya swept out from the room and started down the hall, intent on reaching Rhaegar and doing so shortly thereafter… with no small amount of guidance from her steadfast guardian, Ser Tyrell. It took her an amount of time that she imagined was greater than expected, but her innate sense of curiosity and the wonderful visuals the place made for were to blame even if her guardian was the perfect navigator to have.

Still, and eventually as one might suspect, she arrived outside the council chambers whereupon reaching it, one of the many guards knocked upon it. Ser Darry, if memory proved true, for Ser Velaryon would only ever be at Rhaegar's side whilst others manned his doors, called out her arrival loudly.

The voice of her father followed, and not more than a second after Ser Darry had spoken. It was but one word, but in it, eagerness was evident for all to hear. Visenya wished to baulk so very dearly right then and there, but with an encouraging look from Ser Loras, she took a breath and strode in as the doors before her were opened.

Visenya felt the gazes of many fall upon her as soon as she'd entered the room. There was her father at the head of the table with Ser Velaryon at his side and another man, Ser Gerold, sat on his left; each of the three gave her a varying sign of approval or recognition, and each made for an especially friendly face in a place otherwise filled with strangers.

Strangers of a sort, she imagined, that'd like nothing more than to steal her away. Again. Again again.

"Daughter," Rhaegar said before she paused and took too long an observatory view of the room, his arms beckoning her forth, to him. "My Lords," he said when she made to move to him. "Allow for me to formally introduce you all sans Lord Tyrell, to my youngest, Princess Visenya Targaryen. Lord Tyrell, I believe your family's met her twice over."

Lord Tyrell puffed out his chest and raised his head, that burly stomach of his bumping the table as he grinned with pride. "Yes, Your Grace — the Princess is so very kind, and might I say that House Tyrell would be more than pleased to have the Princess visit all of the Reach. It'd be an honour, Your Grace, Princess."

Her eyes caught Rhaegar's for a moment, and in that moment, she hoped he could see the pleading within them. One new home was enough already, she could seldom handle moving from place to place, least of all with the Southron heat and the manner of their people.

"A visit for another time, I'm afraid," Rhaegar declined politely, one of his hands finding hers under the table, and a squeeze coming a moment later as he looked around the table again. "Lord Tywin, Master of Coin, Warden of the West, and a good friend," he said next, indicating a man dressed in gold and red with a stern, appraising expression on his face.

Visenya felt… strange just meeting his eye, but still, she met them boldly. Her blood was of the North and no Southerner could take that away from her; no Southerner, no Wildling, nobody.

"Princess," Lord Tywin said, his voice deep, but strangely soothing. He gave her a nod of respect, his eyes all the while, remaining with their quality of appraising.

She was introduced to the others in attendance afterwards; the Master of Whisperers, Varys, a man that immediately made her wish she was standing farther away than she already was, the next was the old, weathered Master of Ships and Warden of the Seas, Lucerys Velaryon, a man that looked much like her father, but was taller, gaunter, and battle-scarred, and finally, there was the Master of Laws, Randyll Tarly, a man as stern-seeming as Tywin, but one that'd given her a small, polite small when she'd done the same.

There were others too, but they weren't able to attend for various reasons; the Captain of the City Watch, the Grand Maester, and Oberyn Martell.

"My Lords," her father said again once introductions were over and an expectant silence had begun to fall. "Should your family wish for the chance to dine with Visenya as you oft request of Rhaenys or Aegon, you'll need request it far in advance. As one can imagine, and I'll say this frequently, Visenya will be remaining here for quite some time, and I shan't allow otherwise."

A warning?

As the Lords gathered round the room began to murmur or nod, she wondered why he'd say such words in the first place. She didn't understand the way of the South. In the North, one would say what they meant and do as they said. It was cut and dry as could be, and as it should be.

She wished that'd be how it was here.

Visenya estimated little time had passed by the time the men were rising from their seats, the meeting concluded for the day. Little had been spoken of in her presence, and much less addressed to her in that same time. It made her wonder for what reason she'd been brought along in the first place if there'd be so little required of her.

"Your Grace, Princess."

With a near-jolt at the suddenness of the voice, Visenya turned to look at the man who'd called her and Rhaegar's attention. It was Lord Tywin, and in looking at him, she was reminded of Daenerys' words of warning. He seemed not a dangerous man, but mayhaps that was the very reason the warning had been given, for it was oft those who could be worst of all. Lord Tywin, as Rhaegar had called him, seemed nought but a stern and true-speaking man… mayhaps a later meeting with Daenerys or more time spent with the others would reveal the truth of the matter.

"Lord Tywin," Rhaegar greeted as he rose to his feet and stood to his full height. "What might we do for you, my lord?"

The man folded his hands, his eyes staying fixed firmly on Rhaegar. "I would request, formally, to invite House Targaryen to a meal."

Straight to the point, Visenya thought, her eyes dancing between her father and the Lannister.

"This moon, when first opportunity presents itself, my friend," Rhaegar answered with a nod. "I'll have the matter seen to, Lord Tywin."

Another nod was given by the stoic, aforementioned man and with little else left to say, he withdrew from the room with long, confident steps.

"Visenya."

She turned to regard her father after hearing him speak her name. There was little reason to speak with his eyes meeting hers, the man simply spoke upon seeing that he had her attention.

"You're not to dine or meet with those not of our family. I do this for your safety, lest you be taken advantage of — it'd not do if Aegon or Oberyn had to behead one of my Lords for impropriety."

Visenya blinked at him, his words vaguely registering. Was th—

"I jest," Rhaegar said as he came over to her, his arm held out in the form of a loop for her to slide hers through. "Join me, my Visenya? I find a stroll around our walls is all the peace and leisure I need after a meeting with my council."

"As you wish, Father."

And they walked.

Sometime later, after a walk which took them through the entirety of the Godswood nearly thrice over, Visenya left her father's side so as to go for a meal. It was with her faithful guard, Ser Loras, and the dozen Targaryen guardsmen following the pair, when she was found by an especially affectionate Rhaenys.

Her older sister, possessive and overbearing as she'd come to recognise, embraced her within seconds of vision being established. "My 'Senya," Rhaenys cooed into her ear as she embraced Visenya tightly, her arms all but squeezing the life from the smaller girl… mayhaps not quite that tight, but it was a close thing.

"How did you enjoy your meeting with our wonderful council?" Rhaenys asked when she finally withdrew, her hand grabbing Visenya's and pulling it along; the latter didn't so much as ask where they were headed.

"I spoke little and heard less. I think my inclusion was for the sake of father allowing them to meet me more intimately, and to give them a moment to gauge me, but I know not why. Some seemed kind, others seemed stoic… are they all loyal?"

Rhaenys' response was a snort and fit of giggles.

That was all the answer Visenya needed, and it was one that seemed in-line with the limited information Daenerys had given her. And yet, it begged the question of why they'd be in position in the first place. What reason might there be to keep those with power around, grant unto them more power, and give them a seat at your table?

"We'll speak of politics in the coming days, sooner than I'd like, I believe," Rhaenys said placatingly, mayhaps noticing the look that'd come to rest on Visenya's face. "I'll seldom enjoy games of words, 'tis Aegon that loves a verbal duel as much as one by way of the sword. Still, in the coming moons I dare say it'll be quite important for you and I both."

Ominous.

"Father said I'm not to dine or spend time sans the company of another member of House Targaryen."

"Our house."

"What?"

Rhaenys turned to look more clearly at Visenya, her face seemed serious, more so than usual, and then she arched a brow, speaking all the while they continued their walk to… wherever they were headed. "You said House Targaryen. You needn't do so. We're family, it's our house, the Red Keep, Summerhall, Dragonstone—" Rhaenys gestured around the entirety of where they were with her other arm, a smile, albeit a smug one, on her face. "Westeros — all of it is ours."

Visenya nodded and graced Rhaenys with a smile of her own. It was placating, or at least it was meant to be, but she couldn't help the feeling of power and control that came upon hearing Rhaenys' words. It mattered not that she knew such dreams to be just that, dreams, for the thought of having control over her life, finally, was so fond a thought it could turn anything pleasant.

Mayhaps, there would come a time in the future where she'd be in total control of her life.

"Gods."

Rhaenys' blurting out of that made Visenya shake free of her thoughts. Had she made the older girl angry when she'd not responded?

No, no she hadn't. Visenya recognised a few seconds later that Rhaenys' exclamation hadn't come as a result of anything she did or didn't do, but on account of the man whom was rapidly approaching them.

Mace Tyrell, their father's Hand and a pompous man; one with a large belly that Visenya couldn't help but watch with an inward grin as it bounced whensoever he took a step. He seemed a genuine and kind man, a dull one too… but Visenya wondered if there was more to him like how there'd been more to many others.

It was a hard life, being surrounded by Southron folk who acted so very differently to her Northern kin.

With a pause, the two Princesses waited for the Lord Hand and his entourage of guardsmen to arrive. His cheeks were red from the sun or exertion of walking, and in his right hand was a large, sealed missive, one that was likely meant for any Targaryen on account of how he held it for either girl to take.

"Thank you, my lord," Rhaenys said as a deft hand struck, taking the sealed missive from him. "I'll see to it that a hasty response is given. Will that be all?"

Mace blinked at Rhaenys' question, and then he nodded rapidly. "Yes, Princess," he said, his tone as animated as his nods.

Rhaenys smiled and gave the rotund man a curtsy, and from there, she pulled upon Visenya's hand and started them off again. Visenya did but nod to the man as they took their leave of him, the Kingsguard of Ser Jaime and Ser Loras and the near twenty men-at-arms that followed blocked the large man quite quickly too.

"Rhaenys?" Visenya asked then, the thought coming to her.

"Senya?" Rhaenys counter-asked.

"Why are we so heavily guarded? Is there reason to fear?"

A laugh. Rhaenys laughed as she pulled Visenya into her side, disregarding their hand-holding so as to wrap an entire arm around the smaller girl. "Not in the slightest, baby sister. We'll never be in danger with so many loyal men around — Father's simply being cautious. He wishes not to risk your safety or innocence, least of all with so many vultures plucking at the edges of our family."

"The La—"

Rhaenys slid a hand over Visenya's mouth and tutted. "Now now, baby sister, one shan't say anything out loud," there was a teasing lilt to Rhaenys' voice, but her visage seemed serious for the few seconds she'd said those words; when the next came, it went back to a fond, loving sort of gaze. "Food?"

Visenya furrowed her brow at Rhaenys, but nodded, slowly. Food sounded good, and the myriad of sweets the Southron folk had were… superior in quantity and offered a different taste to that of what she was used to having.

She'd never say it was better altogether.

The following forenoon when next Visenya rose, the typical sounds of the early hours and the cool breeze greeting her, it was to yet again, another series of knocks upon her door. One could seldom sleep very late without being given reason to rise by one Targaryen or another, Visenya only wondered who this one would be.

She needn't wait long to hear the voices of those who wished her to rise.

"Visenya, might we enter?"

"Please, baby sister?"

Daenerys and Rhaenys had arrived together, it'd seem, and Visenya knew she couldn't keep them waiting. With a huff and puff, she blew away the errant strands of hair that blocked her vision and threw aside the wondrously soft sheets of her bed, the cold airing streaking toward her; it was what she hated most about rising, even if the cold was far more preferable to heat of any kind.

After a few seconds of exaggerated chills, she kicked her feet from the bed and all but flew off of it, coming to a standing position. One might say her dexterity was unparalleled, and in Visenya's opinion, it was — Gods, how she longed to climb with Bran or ride through the woods with Robb, mayhaps even go for archery with Arya. Each had made so many fond memories with her, and each left her longing for her family.

Finally, the dexterous girl found her way to the entrance of her chambers, whereupon opening it, the impatient forms of Rhaenys and Daenerys hurried through.

"Good morning, 'Senya," Rhaenys greeted first, her arms enveloping Visenya's slighter form in a firm hug.

When she withdrew, another hug followed shortly thereafter. Daenerys' was, as she'd thought, much more gentle; it helped the girl was softer, without the underlying muscles Rhaenys seemed to have. Where once Visenya had thought the Princess pompous and spoiled, she now thought her older sister like a Mormont woman… only decidedly more pretty.

"Good morning—" Daenerys leaned in and risked a glance over her shoulder at Rhaenys, who was already sweeping towards Visenya's dresser, "— sister."

The two shared a small giggle before they withdrew from one another, their arms looping almost naturally as they moved together to Rhaenys.

"What must we do today?" Visenya asked as she looked betwixt the other girls, nearly expectant. Always, there seemed something to do. It wasn't at all like her life before the Targaryens had taken her. In the North, she had time and time alone, with few activities of interest in-between sans books, riding or archery. "Is it the tourney?"

It'd be so lov— interesting, Visenya wanted to huff at herself. Southron tourneys are for pompous Lordlings. Lord Umber had always said as much and Fa..Uncle Ned oft agreed. He hated them.

"Not yet," Daenerys said with a light laugh as she turned to look at Visenya. Her expression was one of mirth and happiness as she looked betwixt Visenya and Rhaenys. "It takes much time for such things to happen. I think within a sennight until its arrival, for the menfolk must gather and time must be given for them to do so — in truth, annoyed as some might have been, Rhaegar was wise to push back its start."

Rhaenys threw a few dressed atop Visenya's bed and promptly returned to the latter girl. Upon doing so, she pressed a kiss to either cheek before finally putting one on the tip of her nose.

"You're lovely looking today," Rhaenys said with a wide smile. "If you'd not mind, baby sister, I thought tonight might be one in which we can sleep together? I've not wished to smother you, but I've found in the time of your absence, sleep comes harder to me. Mayhaps my mind requires the knowledge that you're truly here before it's able to be put to rest."

Visenya wished for the world to swallow her up right then and there, such were the feelings of awkwardness she felt upon hearing Rhaenys' words. One could say they were sweet and meaningful, and Visenya might even agree; the queerness therein still didn't dissipate. Rhaenys was of a sort Visenya couldn't comprehend — she was so open and Visenya wasn't so.

"Discuss that later, we must leave her to dress, and quickly, if we wish to watch Aegon spar."

Daenerys' interjection couldn't have come at a more helpful time.

Rhaenys huffed and pouted, looking betwixt Daenerys and Visenya, and then she moved away, to one of the adjoining rooms. Daenerys followed after her, closing tightly the door to the room which Visenya would change in.

Visenya, speaking of, was left with a look of thoughtfulness on her face. She wasn't sure what to make of Rhaenys' overbearing affection and need to sleep beside her. There was a chance the words in which she spoke were true, mayhaps the Princess was truly so spoiled or already so covetous over Visenya's person… it'd be in line with what she'd been taught, but in that same breath, the Targaryens thus far hadn't been nearly as bad as she'd expected.

Daenerys especially, lest her words be a game and I the fool for entertaining her.

Visenya shook her head, shaking to and from her long, flowing Targaryen hair. It smelt of the flowers and soap she'd bathed with, and her skin was still smooth and glistening from the oils they'd used in her bath the past night. Those scents smelt much like the gardens of the Red Keep when she'd gotten the chance to pass them by on her way to 'meet' the Small Council.

Out of the memory alone, she wrinkled her nose. The stink of the city still lingered in her nostrils with nought but her window open alone; it was far worse outside, when one walked sans the cover of walls… by the Gods, did it stink. It cou—

"Visenya?" Daenerys' voice called from whence she and Rhaenys had earlier gone. "Need you assistance, my lovely niece?"

"No," Visenya said, quickly, but quietly. She cleared her throat and spoke a moment later, more forcefulness in her tone, her voice projecting through the door clearly and powerfully. "I'll be fine in a moment, and afterwards, I'll need a bit of aid with jewellery and other baubles."

"Speak when you wish for us to enter, and dress in your own time," Daenerys' response came, and thenceforth, silence as Visenya moved to the bed.

She looked at the myriad of dresses Rhaenys had picked and put before her. Not one was as, daring, perhaps, as the ones she or most other ladies oft wore; Visenya was glad, she'd asked for such a distinction to be made when it came to what she wore. No dress that was so light and sheer would ever be comfortable, much less appropriate to wear outside the confines of one's chambers.

Visenya pushed aside with a hand, dainty and swift, three of the five dresses that'd been picked. They were the three that showed the most skin, even if it'd still be much less than most others, and as such, it was they that needed discarding from her wardrobe. From there, she looked between the final two.

One was a long and flowing and frilly red gown without much lace and with black fur trim. It seemed especially cosy in comparison to all of the others, but she knew it'd be too hot to wear under the heat of the Southron sun. The other, the one in which she'd wear, was red and black as well, only sans fur and with lace at her back.

It'd prove the much more comfortable choice even if her back might be seen. Thus, she dressed in short order and called back her sister and aunt, and in they came, the former bounding ahead of the latter.

"Pay up, niece," Daenerys said as she strolled in, her hair whipping on account of an especially powerful gust of wind.

Rhaenys huffed and tossed to Daenerys a chain of metal. It wasn't the gold dragon which Visenya might have thought it to be upon hearing of a 'wager', instead, it was something else. Something that one might see woven into the chain a Maester wore.

"I thought you'd choose the one with furs," Rhaenys explained upon seeing Visenya's look and misinterpreting just what it meant. "In a colder time, mayhaps, though in truth it matters, not. Another could always be made to your specifications — come, turn around, little sister. Daenerys and I will see to your hair and ornaments."

"I do believe a pair of earrings I've brought with me would fit Visenya just as they fit me."

"Those?" Rhaenys' voice sounded strange, surprised, perhaps.

"Why not?" Daenerys asked with a shrug as she approached Visenya, moving aside her hair and holding up to one ear an earring, one with a blackened chain and with a purple gem inlaid. There was writing on it too, small and beautiful-looking, but the language Visenya knew not. "It looks as one would expect on our 'Senya."

Rhaenys' visage remained one of shock, though she nodded upon Daenerys' words being spoken aloud. It took her seconds to recover, and when she did, her hands gathered up Visenya's hair and grabbed hold of a necklace; Daenerys moved to adorn Visenya with the earrings in question.

It was during their actions when Visenya spoke again, asking the question that did so bug her — one of many — but one she thought safe to put words to. "What are they?"

"They belonged to my mother. Many and more did she own, but this was the pair which she loved most and wore from her youth to her last days married to father," Daenerys stepped back and looked in the looking glass, her gaze appraising, wistful, and joyous altogether. "As I thought. You make for a beauty that needs to be put to portrait."

Those words made Visenya smile and look away as a flush came to her cheeks. Through all of her time with the Starks, she'd never felt quite so… pretty? Mayhaps the word didn't fit, but which would? Here, she was laden with praise and stared at by all, and whilst strange and how it made her stomach turn, there was a portion of her that did so love how it made her feel.

Was it wrong of her? She feared it might be. One should never strive to be at the centre of a crowd, one should be meek and humble, demure and polite, and when necessary, strong and just.

"Oh! Dany, you remind me of what Mother said — 'Senya, you, I and Aegon will be expected to dress our finest come a sennight or thereabouts. We're to be put to portrait so that Mother and Father might have an eternal memory of our likenesses in the midst of our youth."

Dany pouted, exaggerated and adorable. "Was I not offered a spot in this portrait?"

"In another," Rhaenys said seriously as she stepped back to admire Visenya in the place beside Daenerys, an arm wrapping around the smaller girl as the pair stared at 'Senya. "Mother and Father wish for many and more. Uncle Viserys will be in one… if he'll be present when requested."

Visenya's cheeks coloured. Not out of any fondness for her uncle — she wasn't a monster — but on account of the tales told of him. Many thought him kind, energetic and charismatic, but from what she'd heard, he was fond of ladies, married or not, and was gluttonous to boot. Were it not for his age, Rhaenys had said, their uncle would be a very rotund man. Mayhaps like Mace Tyrell.

"... him since his arrival."

Rhaenys rolled her eyes, Visenya caught the motion in the looking glass. "I thought he'd vanish the very first night. 'Tis no surprise that our dearest uncle has gone astray."

"I should thank the Gods later, and we should get going," Daenerys ushered the newly-dressed and adorned Visenya, as well as Rhaenys, from the Visenya's chambers. Those small, dainty hands of hers pushed and prodded until the two other Princesses were outside the entryway, their three Kingsguard and dozen men-at-arms waiting for them; inside of Maegor's Holdfast, each Princess had but five guardians.

Outside, a dozen plus their Kingsguard. Rhaegar was paranoid, or mayhaps it was for her, in the event that she tried to escape. The thought was sobering as she looked from one man to the next. Ser Grandfather, Ser Jaime, and Ser Loras, all were men of legends in their respective generations, or so was said in the South.

"Would it have started by now, Ser Barristan?" Daenerys' voice, prettier and softer-sounding, asked the oldest Kingsguard present.

He nodded once, a small, fond smile on his face as he looked betwixt the three girls. "I believe so, Princess."

Daenerys huffed, and promptly slipped an arm through one of Rhaenys' and one of Visenya's, and thenceforth she pulled the pair. They moved with haste, and it was mere minutes later when the trio found themselves standing on the second story, watching as the men below sparred in the yard.

It was of no surprise that upon their arrival, a new fight would soon start; the combatants made her smile to herself and lower her gaze to the floor.

Aegon had walked out, his sparring armour the most ornate set she'd ever seen in her life and his winged helmet, black and menacing, so very wondrous to gaze upon. She had heard tell of the sight Rhaegar had made for upon the Trident, when he'd slain the good Robert Baratheon, her Uncle's greatest friend — Rhaegar had been dressed in a ruby-laden set of plate that looked so very like that which Aegon currently wore.

That wasn't all the reason therein for her reaction, however. What added to it was the man which he'd chosen to spar with. Garlan Tyrell. He was adorned in a suit of armour that looked no less ornate, but far prettier than Visenya found suitable for a man. It was flowers and vines that twisted and twirled through one another.

"Aegon's going to try and show off for you, I see."

Daenerys answered Rhaenys' words before Visenya had so much as opened her mouth. "Garlan's no ordinary swordsman, and not one that Aegon need antagonise in a show of his own gallantry."

Rhaenys shrugged. "If Aegon loses the spar, he grows from it as Father said he did, and as Aegon does every day whensoever he spars with Ser Jaime, Ser Barristan or any of the other Kingsguard," from there, Rhaenys' voice sounded smug. "Do you forget, Aunt, that Father's had Aegon and I trained since we were old enough to hold the sword or spear? Ser Loras lost his last bout against our brother, lest you forget."

Visenya turned her head as soon as the final few words had come free of Rhaenys' mouth. She badly wished to see Daenerys' reaction… and

Her wrinkled nose was all that she'd hoped for and more. "Gods, no. I've not forgotten, I've considered myself lucky day after day that I needn't do so," Daenerys' gaze fell on Visenya then, a smile forming as her nose unwrinkled itself. "I do believe we've another warrior in our midst as well, Rhaenys. Mayhaps our 'Senya could give you a good run."

"Do you think so, little sister?" Rhaenys' hand turned and raised Visenya's head so that they might look at one another. "I suppose there's a chance you're far faster than I, but I worry about the severity of your blows."

At that moment, a buried portion of Marna appeared. Visenya knew she needn't antagonise, she shouldn't so much as challenge the Targaryens in any capacity, but she found in that moment that she needed to. How couldn't she when Rhaenys had all but challenged her right then and there?

"I'll join you in the field any day that you'd like."

Rhaenys blinked at Visenya, her head cocking to the side, but Daenerys shattered any follow-up conversation when she laughed; melodious and beautiful. "A sight to see on another day. Look—" Daenerys made a sweeping gesture down below, "—Aegon and Garlan make to fight shortly. I believe each is currently looking up at us this very moment."

As if just realising what Daenerys' words meant, Visenya and Rhaenys' heads snapped down and to the field below. It was exactly as their aunt had said, there were a myriad of men gathered round with instructions being given all the while, but each of the two men, Aegon and Garlan, paid no mind to their companions. Each was looking up at the three Princesses, the former with a wide, confident smile and the latter with a visage of calm, respectful appraising; a shock to her.

Worried as Visenya might be about Aegon's attention on account of Targaryen history, she feared him not. There was little reason to think he'd do anything untoward to her, and more to think that if he tried, it would be his own family that stops him… unless she'd been tricked most devilishly.

"Showing off for our little sister," Rhaenys said, breaking the silence the three had let fall upon their looking to the field below; her voice seemed amused. "I fear it'll take more to impress you, 'Senya, than our Aegon plucking a flower from the garden for show. Would that be right of me to think?"

"As if you need even ask…" Daenerys muttered on Visenya's other side, low enough so that Rhaenys' ears didn't pick up the words spoken aloud.

Visenya seemed indecisive when she shrugged in response. "It'd not be a bad start to thrash about the brother of the one who tried to peek on us."

"True, little sister," Rhaenys cracked a small smile and leaned in closer, an arm pulling Visenya — and Daenerys too — closer to her. "Let us watch and see if our dearest brother beats Ser Garlan the 'Gallant' or if his training with Ser Barristan and Ser Jaime especially has taught him nothing."

"I'd say it's taught him much and more. Your brother was said to be amongst the most skilled swordsmen, and unparalleled by those his age. Ser Garlan's barely his senior."

Daenerys' words made Visenya quirk a brow. Ser Garlan looked much older than Aegon, his facial hair and visage especially, and his size seemed like that of a man truly grown; Aegon had a chance yet to grow thicker of muscle and taller, but she'd not be able to say he was small by any means.

"When was Ser Garlan born? I thought him old?"

Rhaenys laughed. "We know not his nameday until we need be told of it. Only those we like, do we remember. 'Tis something that can be said of most, I suspect."

"Please," Daenerys said, shaking her hair and intertwining it with Visenya's matching strands. "Ser Garlan was born in two-seventy-seven, and he's currently betrothed, though the name of the lady, I know not. He's Aegon's senior by four namedays, but so small an amount of time won't do much when compared to Aegon's superior trainers."

"Mostly superior," Rhaenys said, sticking her tongue out and catching 'Senya's eyes with a smirk. "Nuncle Oberyn is the greatest man alive when it comes to the way of the spear. He's gifted with other weapons as well, of course, even the whip which he taught Nymeria, exotic as it is. He'd teach you whatever you'd like too, you know."

"It's starting."

At Daenerys' suddenly spoken words, both Visenya and Rhaenys each turned their attention back to the men… again. It was so easy to be distracted when a fight had yet to start and the men were nought but speaking and laughing with one another; more oft than not, from what Robb had said, it's then that they speak of women and the exploits that arose betwixt them.

Visenya watched, her gaze lingering on Aegon more than Ser Garlan, as the two men adorned themselves in their stylish helmets and ascertained the grips of their swords. Each was rolling their shoulders, twisting their neck and generally warming themselves up, mayhaps readying themselves for the fight as Ser Darry counted them down.

"Begin!" Ser Darry's voice, commanding and loud, echoed through the courtyard and a hush fell upon the spectators, Visenya and her companions as well.

Aegon and Ser Garlan moved in a circle, each eyeing the other up in a cautious sort of fashion. Robb and Theon had been similar when they'd spar, one searching for a sign to strike and the other waiting to counter… but that wasn't to happen here, it'd seem. Almost at once, in the span of time it took for one to blink but an eye, the two men struck forward at one another.

Visenya's first thought as they did so, their swords meeting one another in a clash of steel, was how swift they moved. She thought herself especially fast, but each of the men before her could keep him from what she'd seen in that first strike — mayhaps she was mistaken, but in truth, she didn't think she'd manage against either. The thought was worrying and made her squirm as the clashing of steel sounded time and time again.

The two men were exchanging furious blows and counter-strikes, the strength of their blows evident by the sound and their swiftness by vision alone. Visenya leaned forward, her hands separating from Rhaenys' and Daenerys' as they clutched the edge of the balcony before her. It was a wondrous spectacle for certain, and perhaps made for the greatest showing of the South she'd seen thus far; fanciful rooms and the decor therein were pretty to be certain, but a clash of steel and the way each man moved as they struck at one another was another thing entirely.

Rhaenys said something, but Visenya heard it not. Too enthralling was the show before her, the way the swords of the men clashed or whooshed through the air, their footwork, the dodges and slides, there was even a grapple that failed to end the duel. It was abundantly clear that Aegon and Garlan each were swordsmen most would fail to strike.

On and on the seconds ticked by which Visenya watched the men. Ten seconds and twenty, and as it continued to go by, the men barely slowing in the ferocity of their strikes, it was only time for a mistake to be made… and so one came. Garlan misstepped, his foot landing at an awkward angle and sticking still for a moment's time as Aegon struck forth, his blow connecting and Ser Garlan's foot twisting, and down the larger man went, a mess of steel and man and dirt.

Aegon stopped, his sword pointed down at the fallen knight, and she could picture his smile, cheek-filled and glad, as the men exchanged garbled words. Seconds later, Aegon threw down his sword and extended out a hand, one which was shortly thereafter taken hold of by the knight as the younger man helped the older to his feet.

There was an exchange of words, a bow from each, and then Aegon went running off… directly to the stairs that'd lead him up to the Princesses that'd watched him fight. Undoubtedly, he wished to hear praise for his fighting as most men oft did, and for the bout she witnessed there and then, she'd give it to him.

As he continued his racing up to the Princesses, Visenya eyed Rhaenys from out of the corner of her vision. If Aegon was trained so well and Rhaenys oft teased him, and with her mentions of Oberyn — a man Visenya had come to learn could be called the epitome of danger — as her private master-at-arms, she wondered if she could so much as beat her elder sister.

The odds weren't especially in her favour, by her understanding. Though, she supposed that was only if Rhaenys ever truly wished to spar… Rhaegar probably wouldn't allow it. Nor Elia, Visenya believed.

Finally, the echoing steps of Aegon finished as the man finished his ascension and came to a stop before the two Princesses. His hair was sweaty and stuck to his skin in many a place, and his face was sheening, as was just about any other bit of skin that was still showing. Aegon had exerted himself to his limits, it'd seem, and the bout she'd watched on account of his doing so would most certainly be a memorable one.

"Sisters, my lovely aunt," Aegon dipped his head to the three and drew closer still to them. "I take it you saw my victory in the yard."

"We did," Rhaenys said.

"Was it a statement, nephew?" Daenerys asked, amusement thickly heard in her tone. "Rhaenys and I believe it so."

I do as well, Visenya said internally, though she didn't feel the need to put that to words spoken aloud.

"Mayhaps, mayhaps it's the simple fact that the weeds need to be occasionally plucked as a reminder. Regardless, I do so hope you enjoyed the entertainment I made for you, I believe I'm quite finished for the day. I'd hoped to have the three of you join me in the gardens for a meal with our cousins."

"Not with I," Daenerys said as soon as Aegon gave time for the Princesses to speak. She shook her head and made to separate, Ser Barristan following after her as a shadow would. "I've a meeting with Rhaegar and Elia. I'll leave the care of my lovely nieces to you, nephew."

Rhaenys was oddly silent, not taking the chance to tease Aegon where one might otherwise have presented itself… as for Visenya, it wasn't bothersome, and beyond that, a fact she thought at least partially true. Aegon and Rhaenys each had been very caring; after witnessing his fighting prowess as well, her safety was all the more guaranteed.

Well, so long as he wasn't craven when it came time for a real bout.

"Give my best to Mother and Father, my most beautiful of aunts," Aegon's visage was that of teasing as he bowed to Daenerys, low and gentlemanly, but mischievous all the while. "And I'll do as you say, of course. You needn't worry about 'Senya or Rhaenys whilst I'm with them. My sisters are mine to protect, and any who wish to find that out will nary have the chance to plead for mercy."

"Please," Rhaenys said with a scoff, but whereupon she went from there wasn't the way Visenya had thought it'd be. "Tyene is who we'll need watch most of all. Obara and Nymeria aren't as unique in their weapons of choice, and Sarella is but a scholar."

"But a scholar," Daenerys repeated. The clone of Visenya repeated the words again, snorting once, and then she kissed Rhaenys' cheek. She moved to Visenya next, doing the same twice over, and whispering when she leaned in for a famous embrace. "Visit me this eve? I wish to brush your hair?"

Visenya, naturally, smiled after a second's thought; time with Daenerys would do her well.

As would, she supposed, time with the Sand Snakes and Martells.

In a way, they were 'as family' to her now, and such a thought was queer given the circumstances… mayhaps queerer still; she'd begun to think of them as kin in the time that she'd been here. It was quick, and left her as conflicted and wistful of her past as ever.

She needed the Godswood, she did. Visenya would seek it out when next she was alone, for the company of any other Targaryen would feel slanderous, worse, an affront to all Northerners who fell to defeat them. Had the battle ended at the Trident, mayhaps the feelings of the North and South toward one another would be different.

Visenya's mind finished its errant and fast thinking when she felt the nudge of an arm, large and meaty, against one of her own far more petite ones. Aegon had slipped betwixt her and Rhaenys, taking the spot in the middle as he held his arms open for each of the Princesses to join themselves to him; it took but one look at his face to see a grin of enormous proportions on it, his eagerness and joy so abundantly clear.

And then they started off, their destination, the gardens.