When Visenya finally shook off the deep embrace sleep had over her, the earliest light of the day greeted her in tandem with birdsong and the typical breeze that carried with it the scent one could only describe as unique to King's Landing. That wind, one which oft reached her on account of how she slept and one that gave just as good a cause to rise as those singing birds, did little to chill her on account of the inferno that was Daenerys; she was hotter than Rhaenys or Aegon, though just as soft as the former.
Visenya had the yearning to rise from her bed and relieve herself, but weak as it was, the comfort took precedence and try as she might to stop herself, she couldn't help but burrow into her twin. She blamed Robb and Arya for her pack-tactic loving mind. Were it not for them, she'd not be half as reliant — or desirous — on the embraces of others.
Elia, Rhaenys, Daenerys… all are much too doughy and warm to deny myself the pleasure and sense of security their holds bring.
That very thought went through her as she wiggled closer to Daenerys, and tucked her face under the other girl's chin. What followed was another that marvelled at the softness of her skin; it was as if her twin was made for cuddling.
She wiggled closer, seeking out that warmth as a moth might a flame.
But it seemed that yearning was her ruin, for Daenerys' head moved, and then she heard a dreary laugh as arms enveloped her.
"Feeling affectionate, 'Senya?" Daenerys' voice had that morningy tinge to it.
As the hands to those arms that'd grabbed hold of her began to trace nonsensical shapes upon her back, she gave answer to Daenerys' words. "You're comfy," she mimicked her twin's actions and with her own arms — and sans the fear of waking her given the obvious — she pulled herself as close as close could be, and let loose a little sigh.
One full-up with contentment. Mayhaps that was the most like her father she'd been since her arrival.
Daenerys, however, wouldn't let her soak in that contentment anymore than she would her embrace. There was much to do this day, and first and foremost, before even the 'friendly' spar that Aegon would have with Ser Cletus, was their bath.
And so it was.
With soap suds in her hair and partially obscuring her vision, Visenya sank further back, into the steaming hot water. Daenerys' fingers worked into the nest atop her head, the Targaryens preferring she not cut it lower, as she desired; she assumed they wanted her to grow it out long as she could as an ever-present reminder of her heritage.
If twas that as their plan, it worked we—
Visenya's eyes went wide and she let out a low-sounding moan when Daenerys' hands went lower.
She hadn't thought the touch of another upon her slight shoulders could feel as good as that had.
"If you fall asleep in the bath of all places, I'll be very cross with you — need I remind you that you'll be returning the favour?" Daenerys' words were said with a faux haughtiness as she continued to work Visenya's shoulders. At one point, the former even stopped so as to trace the little lines of blue thereon.
Senya minded not.
With a yawn, she pushed upon the bottom of the tub and saw herself rise higher. "I won't forget." Visenya let her head fall back after those words were spoken aloud, for Daenerys' fingers began to work at the base of her scalp. Still, wondrous as that felt, she managed a response. "Can we… could we discuss what we…" Gods, she was horrible at getting to her point.
It was an embarrassing topic to bring up, but mixed with Daenerys' magical hands and how that made her mind lose focus, nary a sentence that needed to be said, could.
"What you wished to the previous night?" Daenerys didn't halt when she picked up where Visenya had left off. "As I've said, you can speak with me about anything. I'm not beholden to Rhaegar as much as Aegon or Rhaenys are — King my brother may be, he'll always be sweet to his dear little sister… and if he's not, I'll go to Mother."
Visenya couldn't help the little burst of laughter that came forth. Gods, how many times she'd heard 'I'll tell Mother' or 'I'm getting Father' from her siblings. It was so normal a thing to say, and brought the Targaryens closer to that which few thought they were.
Normal.
Daenerys shared in her laughter as she rinsed the mixture from Visenya's hair, and it was then, when the latter action was finished, that their levity was over. There was only so much beating around the bush one could do.
"What did you wish to hear of them?" Daenerys' fingers dropped to the water's surface, whereupon doing so, she scooped up a handful of hot water, and dropped it atop Visenya's head.
As it cascaded down and brought relief to the muscles of her back, Visenya put forth her question. One that was made easier to ask when she couldn't see the visage of her twin looking back at her.
"Do they plot to include me in their pe— joining?" She'd caught herself before the word 'perversions' could leak out. Detest it as she might, the thought of her doing anything of an intimate nature with them, there was still no need to speak poorly. Not with how close all of House Targaryen seemed to be.
"Would you have what I know to be fact, or what I suspect might happen?" Daenerys' tone was still soft-sounding, and instilled within it seemed an easing, calming quality. One hand went so far as to rest on one of Visenya's shoulders whilst the other scrubbed at what skin was raised above the water.
Visenya didn't like the words said by her twin anymore than she liked how they were said, or the gesture that followed. It seemed strongly indicative of one making to placate or calm another before offence or poor news was shared.
"Facts first, and what you imagine, after," Visenya felt a chill run from the top of her back, down to her rear. It came even despite the heat of the water and the presence of the equally-hot Daenerys at her back.
"Rhaegar wishes to announce your betrothal upon your ten and sixth nameday at latest. Mine own is to happen at the end of the tourney, from what last I heard from him — Viserys and Margaery too."
Visenya didn't quite manage to swallow down the nervousness that rose and made tight her throat. "They'd said I wouldn't leave and be sent away to another strange place. Did they mean to lie?"
Daenerys' hands finally halted. "Rhaegar and Elia won't break the promise they swore to you. No strange man will spirit you away to another keep." She leaned forth, and wrapped Visenya up in a hug. That embrace brought with it the true nature of Daenerys' heat, as well as the many sweet scents added to their water and soaps. "The next words which I speak are those I made mention of earlier. I know not if… if Rhaegar intends to wed you to Aegon. Part of me believes that he does with all the lessons the two of them and Rhaenys had — lessons which I wasn't privy to — and the occasional slip of the tongue throughout the years."
Despite the many thoughts she'd had thereof, Visenya's blood ran cold. It was her fear, the greatest she'd had since she'd come to the South, realised. Only one fate was worse; one sans the Starks.
I could flee.
She could take Rickon and flee to Winterfell with the wandering crow. He'd see her safely returned. He was a man of the North, was he not?
Visenya sank into the water; that wasn't a realistic thought. Not in the slightest. Flee as she might desire, there would be no escape from the Targaryens. Rhaenys had said as much once before — 'now that we know you're real, we'll never let you go again'.
The Spider, the Tyrells, the Targaryens, the Lannisters… others with less honourable desires, one of those many hundreds and thousands that'd seek her out, would find her.
Better the Targaryens who'd treated her as family — even if that meant something different to them than it did to most others — than any other.
"…-nya?" There was a little blur as a hand waved back and forth in her field of vision. "Visenya? You're making me nervous." Daenerys' voice sounded just that; nervous.
Lost as she'd been in her fleeting thoughts of escape after Daenerys' confirmation, Visenya had paid little mind to the other girl or her surroundings. Little enough that she'd failed to feel Daenerys' hands shaking her shoulders, or mind her twin's calling of her name with lips so near to her left ear that they were nearly pressed there against.
"My apologies. I'm well." Visenya forced down the bile and score of thoughts, and gave answer to Daenerys; she even sent a look over her shoulder. One that played at imitating a smile, but even she knew it was a poor effort.
"I doubt that very much." Daenerys rose from the bath, the droplets of water splashing around the large tub and a wave going over the edge. Out in the air, she let out a little hiss as the far cooler air struck her heated body, and then she held out a hand Visenya's way. "I can answer all that you'd have of me while I comb your hair… after you're dry — love you as I might, I'd not like to remain naked for this conversation."
Despite it all, Visenya couldn't help but let out a snorting-laughter as she took to drying herself while her twin did much the same opposite of her. With a little shift thrown on thereafter, she found herself sitting with her legs folded under her betwixt Daenerys' legs at the edge of one of the many plush, pillow-like chairs.
"Why?" It was the simplest question Visenya could pose.
"I know little or less. Mother and Nuncle Aemon know all, I suspect… Aegon and Rhaenys, more, but how much more, I can't say," Daenerys paused to run the brush through Visenya's hair, her movements gentle and soothing, and very reminiscent of Elia's as she thought aloud whilst trying to answer Visenya's question. "Mayhaps my brother thinks it necessary for the house. He oft makes mention of three being needed, and his projects, those with the Dragonpit and sewers, he began those out of a desire to earn the good graces of the people just as much as he did out of the goodness of his heart."
"He already had the admiration of most, what more could he desire from them?" Northmen spoke of it contentiously whensoever the King was made mention of. The Dragon King. A hero and a minstrel, dashing to all ladies, and admired by all menfolk.
South of the Neck.
"Love. Loyalty," Daenerys had a fondness in her voice when she spoke aloud the two qualities. "If he wishes to do as I think he does — as you seem to believe he will — then he will need as many of the smallfolk on his side as he can get. Lords and their wives too."
"I see."
He wishes to make the masses love this family, then he wishes to have that very same family intermarry. Brother with sister, both elder and younger. The Old Gods and New Gods alike wouldn't stand for this, and he knew as much if he sought favour with those who kept to them.
Visenya let out a shaky breath when she felt Daenerys pull the brush from her hair. "I don't suppose you could convince him to do otherwise?"
"I'll have words with him, but Rhaegar is King. If he wishes to have you marry Aegon alongside Rhaenys, I—" Daenerys paused, and pulled Visenya up with a gentle tug; she slid past her as she rose, sitting betwixt her legs just as Visenya had done — she cocked her head back far as it could go to make eye contact as Visenya took up the brush Dany had just discarded. "There would be little I could convince him otherwise."
"I know. One can still hope," Visenya set herself to the task at hand, and thought not of what the future likely had in store for her.
This short conversation that felt as if it were hours had given her the answer she desired.
It wasn't what she'd hoped for, but… but she could prepare. Somehow.
I can confront Father. Mother. Mother will help me. She has to.
Yet a poisonous part of her mind said otherwise; she hoped it was wrong — mayhaps she'd hear back from her siblings by way of the raven she'd sent, and that wandering crew option would be made all the more realistic.
She doubted Mother and plot alike.
"It's tight."
Visenya's nose wrinkled at how she appeared in the looking glass. It was an outfit and style that didn't fit her — nary a thing Daenerys adjusted or made different would make the light, Dornish-style armour fit her better than it already did, not in either meaning of the word.
"It was Rhaenys' from some few years past. Prince Doran had it commissioned, and Oberyn oversaw it," Daenerys fussed over the straps tugged at the fabric; she was as a mother hen to a chick. "Few have as fine a sparring suit of armour."
Her eyes sought out the looking glass again.
Much of her armour was copper, with mail forgone altogether. Leather and thick fabrics were the predominant materials, and the colours thereof were red in majority, with black to accentuate certain parts. One couldn't miss how a grand, visible strap in the front was made in the emblem of the Martell sigil, nor the winged helmet in reference to the more predominant lineage displayed.
"Too fine." Visenya would have preferred the simple hardened leathers of the North. Any set would have taken half as long to dress in, and would prove more comfortable. She imagined the durability would favour the North as well. "Is there nothing else?"
Daenerys shook her head. "Aegon's wouldn't fit you any better. At least Rhaenys' accounted for a woman's proportions." With one last adjustment made to a strap at Visenya's left flank, Daenerys' deft hands fell to her sides as she took a step back to observe her work. After a few seconds, she gave a pout, going so far as to fold her arms. "With such a scowl on your face, you make me realise despite our shared looks, I'll never look half as fierce."
"Would that we could trade," Mayhaps Visenya shouldn't have let the bitterness within her speak such words aloud, but who would do anything to her now?
Wisely, her twin left that poison-filled comment alone after a fleeting moment's sad smile, and instead, made to grab her hand. Soft as each was, and freshly washed, it took a second effort to establish a firm hold.
When Visenya allowed her to get said firm hold, she wasn't surprised to find herself being led to the Chamber door, the two padding across the stone and rug-covered floor to the sound of singing birds.
Daenerys sent her an encouraging smile and made to speak of the day's warmth and the many people they'd meet of worry come later. She was pleasant and sweet, and that voice of hers that seemed crafted by the Gods themselves made for a most wondrous backdrop sa Visenya's mind wandered.
Undoubtedly, those few that knew of the spar were already present and awaiting their arrival… but they were Princesses. Beyond that, it was her and Daenerys that were the party offended. Even if this dealing was kept silent for the sake of those involved, and despite the fact that Aegon had stolen her chance to trounce a Southron Knight, it would make for a good start to her morning.
She minded her twin again and reaffirmed the hand she had hold of; Visenya tightened her grasp when they grew near enough to hear the loud voice of her brother.
He hasn't left, which likely meant Rhaenys hadn't.
Of its own volition, her heart increased in pace at the sight of him, and her free hand balled into a fist. One so tight that her nails left marks upon the palm of each hand.
So long as Aegon and Rhaenys stay a pace away henceforth, I can act as I have in recent times; I was a fool to think their affection came without cause or cost.
Or Rhaegar's and Elia's.
As Aegon and Rhaenys grew nearer, Visenya's eyes sought out Daenerys' face. In the midst of an endearing, dimpled smile, she couldn't help but wonder;
Is hers truly free of charge?
She didn't think she desired to hear that answer; fear could play terrible tricks on the mind.
Daenerys walked hand-in-hand with Visenya to the archway that'd see them to the sparring yard ahead. Their typical guards were present, with Ser Barristan and the ever-stalwart Ser Loras not more than two paces behind the Princesses, each silent save for when they were spoken to.
When Rhaenys came into view, standing tall where Visenya had held Rickon when she'd hosted her private 'tourney', she very nearly stumbled. Daenerys noticed too, based on the snap of her head in Visenya's direction, but the latter minded not the former.
Her eyes were much too caught by her big sister's apparel.
"I did make mention of the fact that it was formerly hers, didn't I?" Daenerys seemed to guess her thoughts and the cause of her stumbling.
"I'd not taken that to mean she'd wear an armour of the very same likeness, only upscaled." Visenya had already found it queer enough, wearing the Martell sigil rather than that of the Starks — she lacked any item save for the sword she'd kept with her to remind her of her homeland. "Come the morrow I should see a new suit made. The Street of Steel… that's it, right, Ser Loras?"
"It is, Princess. Many a fine armourer labours there. If it should please you, I could put together an escort to fit the morrow's plan." Ser Loras gave a good answer, and showed better initiative; truly, she'd come to appreciate the young knight's presence at her side.
"I wo—"
"Rhaegar would need approve that journey, Ser Loras." Daenerys' eyes swept up and down her figure. That action carried with it nothing untoward; fear her twin she did not, but always did she seek to read the expressions of the Targaryens.
Such was the way she'd presumed — allegedly correctly as well — that Aegon and Rhaenys meant to…
"Would he deny it?" Visenya opened her mouth again, but the presence of so many others gave reason to pause. She had no coin of her own. What little she'd kept hidden in her tower had been left therein. It wouldn't do if those nearest heard her worries of how she'd pay.
Daenerys could nary open her mouth before the words of another Targaryen Princess sounded off.
"Would who deny what, little sister?" Rhaenys' voice was rife with happiness, and without so much as the chance to give a response, Visenya found herself enveloped; her big sister's arms wrapped around her smaller frame and swept her up, the copper of their armour scraping together. "How adorable and fearsome you look~"
Those words were of the windiest quality. Rhaenys' singsong fashion with which she'd said the final word as her hands wandered to pluck and pull at her figure betrayed her.
"We were making mention of Rhaegar, niece — and how kind of you to give such an embrace to your aunt as well." Daenerys' nose had steadily gone up with the passing of each of her latter words.
Rhaenys understood pout and whinge alike, and with a sigh of the utmost exaggerated quality, she withdrew one arm from 'round Visenya as it was, and snagged their little aunt. With a tug, the only unarmoured Princess amongst the trio was pulled forth, into the embrace.
"My lovely little aunt, and my adorable baby sister," Rhaenys pressed a kiss to each in turn which she mentioned them. From there, she inserted herself betwixt them and took up a hand from each, leading the twins to where they'd previously stood when last they watched him. "Aegon had desired to walk with you when first we met in the hall, but neither he nor I were quite ready — you two certainly were. My beauties."
Daenerys let slip a sigh, and caught Visenya's eyes with her own. "Compliment us oft as you do, and mayhaps Aegon or Rhaegar might see fit to have us sequestered away in the Maidenvault."
"More time for me, 'tis all I heard from what you've said."
The three stopped at edge, and it was there Rhaenys let slip her grasp of the other women. Her eyes flickered from the two a few times over, then she gave a little nod towards the sparring yard below.
"Ae—"
"He's down there." Rhaenys gestured to the area which he'd emerged from back when he'd fought Ser Garlan. "Mother's help, he sought over mine."
"Why?" Daenerys' eyebrows nearly joined together, such was the level of confusion upon her face; it was no wonder why when one took into account the pair were ofttimes together, arms looped or hands joined.
Or closer, if rumours are to be believed about their… relationship. Daenerys has made mention of their affectionate nature before, and how it's caused the occasional scandal.
Mayhaps that was why they're to wed; he's already taken her maidenhead and now, he's bound to her.
"… too fast. I'd desired to help her." Rhaenys' answer to Daenerys' question had been missed completely, as had much of what'd followed. What didn't go unnoticed, however, was the way in which — following those words — each looked to her.
Daenerys, with a cheeky little smile, raised a hand to Visenya's face. ''Twas I that was with her whilst you and Aegon enjoyed Rhaegar's company." When she cupped her rosy cheek with that dainty hand, that smile grew larger at the same time a seemingly genuine, love-filled warmth emitted from her eyes. "Next time will be your chance, lest I'm there and you're nowhere to be found. Mayhaps should that occur too oft, I'll steal her."
As if she'd been waiting for a slip-up from her diminutive, yet teasing and — mostly faux — bratty aunt, Rhaenys struck. "Steal her as a Wildling might?"
With said words put into Daenerys' mouth, Rhaenys raised the hand which had remained free, to her mouth; mock surprise was one look she couldn't pull off in the slightest.
Whilst Daenerys gaped with rapidly reddening cheeks and Rhaenys bathed in her victory, it was Visenya that gave response to her big sister's words.
"Daenerys has naught for me to geld if she were to try."
Amused as Daenerys' loo shifted towards — pleased too, given the look Rhaenys wore in response to her words — their attention was finally called to the yard below.
The hush that'd been imperceivable to the trio of Princesses gave way to a series of greetings and calls.
'Good morn, Prince Aegon,' seemed to be amongst the most popular, that or 'my prince'.
So naturally the eyes of the three Targaryen women traced the looks the menfolk were sending, and found Aegon; he hadn't entered where he was meant to. No, for whatever reason, he appeared below where they were stood, and dressed in that same winged-helmet with the most ornate of armour.
He gave response to the many men that called out to him, ofttimes in a tone of voice that gave off a level of ease and friendliness. Yet remain with them, the 'good' Prince did not. There was purpose in the way that he moved, and it was made obvious — his destination — very quickly; He sought out the stairs near to them.
After but three steps up, he was hidden from view. Ser Darry accompanied him as one might expect… as did a score of their household guard. All wore armour of a similar make to his, only far less beautifully-made. What struck her as queer was the few men of the Goldcloaks that also kept near to her brother.
Seldom did she see them, given how oft she kept to Maegor's Holdfast; twas her new tower, only with company and many times larger.
Cosy as it might be, 'tis not nearly as safe. Visenya could trust not a soul that didn't belong to her fa— the Targaryens; a poisonous part of her mind added fuel to her internal fire, ever enlarging as it was nary a second after her initial thought. Not lest I'm in the arms of Rhaenys or Daenerys. Or Elia… or Aegon.
With an internal sneer, she visibly shook her head to rid such thoughts from the confines of her mind. Aegon had seemed a good enough brother, but that was all he'd be. Father would see that when the chance presented itself for her to speak to him.
"Already shaking your head at our brother, baby sister?" Rhaenys seemed less amused than oft she'd been early in their time together. There was a smirk sure enough, but this one seemed to fail in reaching her eyes.
Bashful, and not desiring to cause fuss with her sister anymore than the previous comment in regards to her and Aegon's betrothal had, she shook her head. It saw that long, silverish hair of hers whip back and forth as if the wind had taken it, and as she gave response — one that Daenerys and Rhaenys both listened to — Aegon reappeared not more than a dozen steps away.
"At mine own self." Twas the truth that she opted for. Not the whole of it, admittedly, but neither sibling would ever be granted that. Not with all the poison of both ilks that formed pools in her head, deep and treacherous.
That made Rhaenys cocked her head, and Daenerys, well, her response had nary the chance to be seen.
Aegon saw to that when he called out to the trio. "Sisters. Aunt. Beautiful as ever."
In armour? Visenya doubted the sincerity and validity of his words.
"Little brother, come to seek our favour ahead of your win against Quentyn's companion?" Rhaenys took a step forward, and that meant so too did Visenya and Daenerys by way of their connection. With little effort, she used her free hand to 'pull' him in, and sans a word, placed a kiss on either cheek. "Yours. As always… when you're not being a troublesome boy."
Aegon grinned despite Rhaenys' words, clearly pleased with the kisses which she'd give him whilst so many looked on. "My thanks, Sister." With a hand sliding down to Rhaenys' waist, he turned his attention to Visenya; Rhaenys' gaze followed.
Words didn't immediately come forth. Nay, the pair looked her over, but she wasn't alone. Daenerys gave a squeeze of her hand.
So Visenya raised her nose and blinked as she looked betwixt the pair. "What would you have of me?"
Rhaenys responded for her brother-betrothed. With a tap upon his cheek and a grin upon her face, she spoke. "A kiss on his cheek, as you've done before, little sister — 'tis a sign of good luck when he fights on our behalf."
"Brother?" Visenya wanted to hear it from his own lips; she also desired to see how he might react.
Aegon's face bore a smile upon her urging. "One?" He shot her a pout just as practised and petulant as Rhaenys or Daenerys could; a royal quirk, it seemed.
Visenya briefly eyed the many onlookers, 'discrete' as most likely thought they were being. Word was likely already out of the time the three spent together, and mayhaps of the kiss upon his cheek she'd placed previously, in the gardens. Another here would only add fuel to any rumours… if they existed.
Gods. Am I paranoid? Mad? Inept? She swallowed down her thoughts of Southron politics, and narrowed her eyes at him. Visenya wouldn't deny him his request with so many there to see, nor when doing so might make a problem where one needn't be; that didn't mean she'd not exact her own price for her continued affection.
"One." She said as much with a stoic, cool gaze focused on her siblings. Knowing what she did, these instances would be few and far between, lest he only grow to desire her more — her eyes narrowed when she took a half-step closer to him, and then she stuck a finger into his chest just as she'd do to Robb; his chest felt just as hard, much to her surprise. "If you lose to this 'Ser Cletus', you shan't get another."
Rhaenys giggled as girlishly as Daenerys ever had which made it very hard to hold her cool look, and Gods, did Daenerys join; the two sounded as wondrous as any birdsong ever had.
It forced her lips, which had been in a thin line, to tilt upwards. That chorus of noise was enchanting as most thought Princesses would be.
"Perish the thought of my losing this bout, sweet sister. I dare say I could take you and Rhaenys on at once." He had a cheeky little grin on his face, and shared a look with his sister-betrothed; it seemed one full of meaning, as the case was when the two were in her presence. "Tell me. How would you see me beat him? A blow to the head to see him knocked down and disoriented? Should I disarm him and use his own blade against him?"
Visenya wrinkled her nose. "You thi—"
Rhaenys let out a coo and dropped her arm from Aegon so as to encircle Visenya. "Ziry iksos tolī gevie."
"Rhaenys." Daenerys' voice had a tinge of disapproval, and one of her soft, pale hands took hold of Visenya's.
"I speak the truth, Auntie," Rhaenys batted her eyes innocently at their aunt, but before whichever words were next could come — or a translation offered for Visenya's sake — Aegon spoke.
"I'll beat him post-haste, and come up for a second token of affection on the cheek which you leave without it," Aegon dipped his head, receiving that kiss upon his cheek. That same charming look she'd seen on his face now worn again, bright as could be; he took a step nearer too, seeing his armoured chest press up against hers, and Rhaenys further envelop her. "Is that agreeable, 'Senya?" His warm, mint-smelling breath splashed against her face.
"A second?" Visenya wished she could fold her arms in addition to that narrow-eyed gaze she was sending him, but each was filled with a Princess. "Receive too many and you'll grow accustomed." She hoped he and Rhaenys both could read the look in her eyes; we've spoken of this before, dolts. Do you want the realm to see us as more…
Realisation struck her. How foolish am I? If Daenerys thinks as I do, then of course that's what they desire — who would claim me if the Crown Prince made his aims known, and with the permission of his first betrothed no less?
"Ser Cletus makes his appearance," Daenerys' words drew Visenya from thought and her siblings from their doting, single-minded gazes. "It seems he's not learned his lesson, Nephew. Even now, the Ser seeks us out with his eye."
Visenya let out the tiniest of giggles when Aegon and Rhaenys both snapped their attention in the aforementioned knight's direction; they had a poison in their eyes that was amusing, if frightening, and beyond that, Daenerys' choice way of speaking was noticed only by her. She'd made a good play on words.
Reluctantly, and after some few seconds of taking in the thinly-veiled disdain her siblings wore, she sought out Ser Cletus; he was with Quentyn and other Dornishmen of their party. That little giggle she'd initially let out was quiet enough that more oft than not, the burst of noise followed-up by a squeak of realisation would have gone unnoticed.
Yet Daenerys had caught it where her distracted siblings had not.
"I'm quite funny, aren't I, Sister?" Daenerys' voice was soft as her giggles, and only heard on account of her lips being pressed right close to her ear. The sounds of the menfolk and the quick conversing of her siblings in Valyrian made it all but impossible to hear her otherwise; she spoke again. "I think neither Rhaenys nor Aegon understood what I meant—" she snorted. "Mayhaps they didn't hear me at all."
Visenya flicked her gaze betwixt her siblings, and Daenerys. Encircling her as the former two might be, their attention still remained fixed entirely on Quentyn and his band of boys. Even when a strong wind splashed down and blew back Rhaenys' hair and likely made hard keeping one's eyes open, the pair stayed speaking in that quick hushed Valyrian.
"Mayhaps." Visenya imagined engrossed in conversation as they were, Daenerys' thoughts were right. "Will Aegon win as easily as he said he might?"
Daenerys hummed, and raised her free hand to her bottom lip; there, with her thumb on one side and her middle finger on the other, she half-squashed it as her brow furrowed in thought. Whilst her adorable twin formulated her response, the words of her siblings carried. She knew not if the wind favoured her or if the pair had gotten louder, but it mattered not.
"Skori gaomagon ao pendagon mirre kessa rȳbagon īlva hāedar iksis īlvon?" Aegon had a tone in his voice she seldom heard him take. Beyond the charm and elegance of the language, she could hear an impatient-sounding anger; it made her move closer.
There was something about the language. Something about the way the sunlight reflected on her armoured brother and sister that drew her to them — it made her despise herself as much as the situation she imagined she'd soon find herself in.
"īlon daor rush, Valonqar. Emā nyke while īlon umbagon syt kepa's iderennon." Rhaenys' tone stood in stark contrast to Aegon's. It was just as wondrous to hear, but it lacked the negative undertones of their brother's. Instead, it was calming, and that was made all the more obvious when Rhaenys leaned in closer to him and rested her head atop his shoulder.
Happy as Aegon seemed by Rhaenys' affection, he seemed to have one last bout of annoyance. "Jaelan īlva hāedar lēda īlva. Īlin meant naejot glaesagon hae hāre."
"Kesi sagon hāre." Rhaenys lifted his helm, and pressed a kiss to the edge of his jaw; her eyes caught Visenya's nary a second later. "Valonqar, make not a movement, but I think we've a spy in our midst."
Without so much as the chance to speak, Rhaenys pulled Visenya more firmly betwixt her and Aegon's armoured bodies, and saw her stuck there between.
"Listening to us, little sister?" Aegon's voice was noticeably lighter. He sounded pleased as he oft looked in their company… then he looked away, unable to maintain eye contact with her… for a few seconds' time when he did so again.
Gods, he confuses me. Rhaenys confuses me.
"Even if I did, I know not so much as a word. You could spill any secret you so desire, one that might ruin your lives if another found out, and still, I'd have understood not a word." Visenya pointedly looked away upon his eyes returning to her own and the seriousness therein; Rhaenys' gaze never wavered, unlike her siblings.
Aegon's free hand caught Visenya wholly off-guard when it rose from where it'd limply been, and took hold of her chin. Thereon, and whilst her eyes widened in a mixture of alarm, shock and the queerest of tingles, he raised it and turned it so that her eyes could meet his own. Close as they were, a little redness came to his cheeks.
One she imagined wasn't half as fierce as her own.
"That'll change soon, little sister. It wouldn't do if a Targaryen couldn't speak her true tongue," Aegon then leaned in, and a genuine burst of emotions struck her harder than any blow she'd ever taken in all her years of sparring; he meant to kiss he— his face darted to the right, and pressed the most chaste of kisses on her cheek. His lips weren't half as soft as Rhaenys', but they were distinctly… mannish. "Now, watch me beat this mummer of a knight for you."
There was a gruffness, a passion by way of how his words carried, that made her look more deeply into his eyes. She sought to identify what lurked beneath the violet that was so very similar to her own — hundreds of secrets had to be present, but only one answer was she seeking.
Rhaenys, however, didn't allow her to do as she desired. Not when she laughed and pressed yet another kiss to Aegon's jawline and spoke, her gaze flickering betwixt Dany and 'Senya. "Go and see if you can't right his errant eye, baby brother. It offers insult, that he'd bring it to look in our direction."
As Visenya and Daenerys shared a glance, Rhaenys giggled and sent off Aegon; he had an eagerness in his step.
Visenya… Well, she was full-up with curiosity of different kinds.
What rang loudest, and in spite of Rhaenys' perception or Aegon's actions, was a query as to the latter's skill; had the spar with Ser Garlan been a fluke? Had the Tyrell man dishonoured himself and Aegon both by allowing himself to lose?
Or was Aegon truly as gifted a swordsman as he seemed to be?
The truth would soon be made clear.
Visenya's hands grasped the carved stone ledge as she leaned forth. Rhaenys had an arm wrapped around her, resting atop the soft, pale flesh of her upper arm whilst Daenerys had hold of her hand, more content to leave a bit of distance; personal space was a rarity, a privilege, with how affectionate the Targaryens seemed to be.
Aegon had finished his descent of the ornate — to her eyes even now — staircase, and as if one had let loose a bolt from a crossbow, the change in his demeanour came about. It was as soon as his first boot struck the dirt of the yard that the soft, boyishly charming smile was wiped from his face and replaced by a Princely look.
One that demanded respect and awe in equal parts. The menfolk that would watch from the edges of the sparring yard looked on with expressions that ranged from awe, to adoration, and even fear, the lattermost of which was something that was a constant in the eyes of the common man. It seemed all loved their Prince, and with how he interacted with the men, it came as no surprise; the Gold Cloaks still were.
"My Prince," Ser Darry, Aegon's typical compeer, called the Prince's attention after a few dozen men had shared greetings with him, "Your sword."
"Of course," Aegon nodded his head in acknowledgement, and moved towards the table where a longsword was set upon, "My thanks, Ser."
Whatever next he would say wasn't able to be heard as Quentyn Martell came forth. He and Ser Cletus, the knight who'd offered offence in his drunken, foolish state, were the last to greet their Prince. It seemed Aegon had opted not to give so much as a glance to the other two men until all others were greeted. Mayhaps he did wish to show Visenya he cared for her in that mannish way. One that oft revolved around successful hunts in the woods, or victories in 'your honour' as might be claimed.
Quentyn, a boy many had said was comely — she didn't see it — and a Prince by his own right, but one who didn't seem to hold a candle to Aegon, said words in greeting she couldn't perceive. They were too far, and the noise of the men as they spoke in clusters, some with their eyes on Aegon, and some with flickering gazes to the Princesses, too loud. Visenya watched intently as he and Cletus bowed their heads and Aegon returned the gesture, though not with his hand over his heart or a genuineness to his actions.
Gods, did he seem more annoyed than she'd have thought when he spoke over dinner. Perhaps the pride in his tone and the tale Rhaenys had told of what he'd done to fight for her was not exaggerated. It was only then, when Aegon's mouth opened and words poured forth, that she found her heart beating more heavily, and not in that same mixture of excitement and nervousness that came about when in the midst of her siblings.
There was fear.
Fear for Aegon that she'd not expected to feel, yet the sight of sharp steel reflecting in the light of the sun that had yet to be swallowed by the clouds above caused it.
She could feel Daenerys' hand squeezing her own tighter as her twin sent the slightest of smiles her way. Visenya's lips parted after that fleeting glance Dany's way, and returned to the men below; when the two went to stand a few paces apart, the time for words now over, her heart skipped a beat.
The time for their 'spar' had come.
Visenya found it hard for breath to come to her as Aegon and Cletus danced in the yard. Steel crashed together with such force that the ringing was heard plain as any birdsong might be, and it was no easy task to keep her eyes from flicking back and forth between the two men. There was the most genuine of fears that Aegon would slip, or the sharp-edged steel of Ser Cletus would strike him.
One that'd not be there if it were her fighting Ser Cletus.
But the Prince, her brother, seemed of a skill level far beyond the Dornish knight. Aegon had taken to this bout for her honour despite her wishes — or those of Ser Jaime and Ser Loras — and gods, just looking at him made it clear how lopsided this was.
Truly, he had not so much as a bead of sweat trickling down the sides of his head as he ducked under a swing that was too high and brought his blade against the side of his foe's sword. Such strength, she thought upon hearing the noise the blow caused.
And then in the midst of that very thought, the sound of Ser Cletus crying out not more than a moment before stumbling back had her breath catching altogether, the harder breaths now impossible.
He was clutching his wrist, the one that held the sword, with his face a grimace and a low hiss escaping him. The blade clattered to the dirt in time with a light, but steady trickle of red, and the murmurs of the men watching began. She could hear them, though only faintly, but her gaze remained fixed on Aegon.
He'd not yet moved, and the tip of his blade rested lightly against the dirt. His head was tilted a fraction as if to ask a silent question, but not a word escaped his lips; then his gaze rose from Ser Cletus, to her — it didn't escape her that he sought out neither Rhaenys nor Daenerys first, but her.
Visenya didn't know whether she ought to look away.
Had he not defended her honour? Seen Ser Cletus punished for the insult he'd offered by way of attitude and actions?
He'd made it a 'spar' instead of the challenge of arms Cletus had wanted by way of behaviour, but in truth, the man hadn't deserved that boon, and yet, Aegon had honoured it. Her heart was racing as her eyes remained locked with his for a moment, but a moment was enough.
Her head nodded and she saw a slight, barely-there smile on his lips before she looked elsewhere. She could feel her sister's eyes, Rhaenys' gaze, burning a hole in her. Mayhaps she could guess what was happening, or maybe she'd missed it, or mayhaps she was simply waiti— a wetness struck her.
Rhaenys' lips pressed against her cheek, and a smile that was near a grin on her part had the warmth from her breath tickling her ear, "I knew it."
"Knew what?" Visenya asked, a frown on her brow and a confused expression worn openly.
What did Rhaenys mean with such words?
She had nary the chance to say anything more, nor did Rhaenys have time to give answer, before Aegon reappeared at the top of the stairs; it was made clear that he'd raced up them, and with the widest of smiles, he closed the distance, and saw himself planted firmly betwixt his sisters.
"Quick as I expected, baby brother." Rhaenys' voice was full of jest, and the look of joy Aegon had worn was momentarily tempered by her words.
Until his eyes caught Visenya's gaze, flickering and fleeting as a squirrel's might be after it caught the eyes of its hunter. When that was intercepted, his dashing smile returned in full force. "Ser Cletus could hope for naught better, should you ask me." He shed his helm then, and set it atop the stone half-wall; that smile was made all the more endearing by the helmet-hair he sported and the faint wetness of his hair. So endearing, that she'd very briefly zoned out, and heard only the latter half of his words. "…second, if it pleases you, sweet sister — I should think after how rough a tumble he took and the accidental drawing of blood that you might think me worthy."
"Very worthy. A finer brother, we couldn't ask for," Rhaenys' grasp of Aegon and Visenya alike saw the pair pulled away from where the eyes of those below might watch the Royals. Daenerys' hold of Visenya saw her join the siblings, and with a silent, observative nature unusual of her; it warmed Visenya's heart, knowing her twin would keep watch over her.
Visenya found her voice as the four sequestered themselves away in the shade of a hall; only the Kingsguard made to stay close, and even they stopped near to the doors as a sentry might — Ser Barristan and Ser Darry to that which connected them to the sparring yard, and Ser Loras with Ser Jaime by the entryway that'd see them further in the maze-like structure.
Wine, fruits and cheeses were spread atop a stone-made table, as was a rag with a pale of water beside it.
"Sit."
Visenya blinked upon the single spoken word from Rhaenys. She'd been in the midst of her thoughts; a common occurrence as of late, and so she simply did as her sister said without so much as a second's thought.
But so too did Aegon.
When each sent a look her way as soon as her rear came into contact with the plush, fabric-covered seat, she realised she'd been a touch too absent-minded.
That order from Rhaenys hadn't been meant for her.
"Eager to listen, aren't you?" Rhaenys cooed, momentarily leaving Aegon for her younger sister.
Visenya made to bat one of Rhaenys' hands away when it went to stroke her side — the other, the one that sought out her hair, would be allowed. Conflicted as she might be, in the time she'd been with the Targs, there was a desire to experience all the love that she'd missed… only not in the sense it seemed Rhaenys or Aegon wished.
She could make it clear, her feelings and what she would approve when it came to the liberties they thought themselves able to take. Rhaenys had already figured that out. "I thought I'd heard a command, Princess." Visenya made a show of worrying her bottom lip, and let her eyes drift down, to the bear-pelt covered rug Rhaenys stood upon; her eyes briefly captured Daenerys' given where the latter was standing, and when they did, she made certain to wink.
A noise, wounded as she'd expected, came from Rhaenys; her hand in Visenya's strands stilled. "If I or Aegon ov—"
"I jest, I jest," Visenya hadn't thought Rhaenys would be so fearful, or feel the pain as she seemingly had. It was a joke, one that made play of her former life they'd ripped her away from after Rhaenys' teasing of how she'd initially acted. "I — neither of you has seen me hurt. Aegon went so far as to defend my honour… I wished to poke fun with words as you and the others might." She very nearly offered up an apology, until she remembered Rhaenys and Daenerys each requiring her to avoid doing just that.
So instead, she pursed her lips and kept her gaze downcast; no longer out of faux demureness, but out of genuine embarrassment and, dare she say it, shame. Queer as all of her new family might be, and sinful as the feelings of her siblings seemed to be, none had seen so much as a bruise or scrape ruin her blemish free skin, pale and soft and — to her annoyance — exceedingly pink.
Rhaenys slid into what space remained atop the seat Visenya had chosen, and sans words for the moment, pulled her into her lap. "Bad little sister." With one hand wrapped 'round her waist, securing Visenya to her stronger form, the other was free to tickle her flank; writhe and roll as she might, Rhaenys was too strong to be thrown off, and so bursts of giggles were forced from her.
It was far better that, than an awkward silence or more awkward still, words on account of her own.
Aegon coughed, a pointed, attention-seeking sound. One that made Rhaenys lazily roll her head his way as that tickling hand finally ceased its assault. "Our brother feels left out. Auntie? Would you tell Aegon how good a job he did in dealing with Ser Wandering Eye whilst I untangle myself from Sweet 'Senya?"
Ser Wandering Eye? 'Tis that to be Ser Cletus' new name?
Daenerys, who'd been rather caught-up in the spectacle Visenya had made with her older sister, cocked her head to one side as her hands settled at her hips. "Will that be before or after you unhand my twin?"
Rhaenys pouted, and nary a blink of the eye later, let her hands fall to her side. "I enjoyed her giggles — didn't you?"
"I did." Aegon offered up helpfully, as he grabbed the cloth and wet it.
Visenya looked away when he began to wipe it along the back of his neck, and the front of his face; as she did that, Daenerys sought out the space near to Aegon, and spoke as she slid into it with all the grace of a Targaryen Princess. "Well done, Nephew. Your swordsmanship was quite the sight. As was his defeat and that girlish noise he made in the midst of it. We all heard the cheers and the applause — did you think them too generous or too kind to his prowess in combat?" Daenerys' eyes flickered between Rhaenys and Visenya, though it was clear she expected the former of the two to give answer.
It seemed Daenerys wished to aid her in not being at the centre of her siblings' attention.
Which was why it was completely and utterly foolish of her to speak up as she did; it happened sans thought, as if she were a spectator in her own body. "You fought well, Aegon. Thank you." She dipped her head, and then, abrupt as could be, rose from her seat; the copper-plated armour she wore, the same style as those her sister donned, made the act difficult and louder than she'd have liked, but she managed. "We should head for the yard. Aren't we to have our bout now that he and his have fled it?"
Daenerys' violet eyes followed her movements, she could see that easily enough, but Visenya didn't dare look at Rhaenys after that change in behaviour she'd randomly experienced — it'd likely be too joyous, too full of hope. She'd had her fun and her moment in the sun when she'd tickled Visenya ceaselessly, and to the point of tears too.
"We'll go when we desire. All present who wish to view our fun would expect as much." Rhaenys brushed off the urgency Visenya had attempted to place in her words. "You needn't rush anything that you do here, little sister. All know we'll begin when we desire, and I think for the moment, our Aegon is entirely too focused on having the sweat wiped from his hair lest it cause his face to turn red and covered in miniature boils."
"Would you both help me?" Aegon, at her prompting, held aloft the cloth he'd been using and grabbed up another with his free hand. With a faint sheen upon him and their father's old armour on, he truly did look a prince of a divine nature.
Like Daenerys. Like Rhaegar and Rhaenys.
Like me.
She shook her head and set thought back to her brother; A Prince who'd defended her honour, and one that she'd seen a new side to. A side that, for the briefest of moments, made her feel a heat not unlike the one Rhaenys inspired within her on occasion.
Thinking of Rhaenys as she was, she noticed not her sister's motions until she'd gone to Aegon's side and began helping him with his hair and face. Visenya frowned, but didn't make a move. Mayhaps he meant Daenerys. The pair were close, were they not?
She felt the tingling of nerves within her stomach at the thought, but then her sister was looking her way, and there was the faintest of smiles on her lips, one that was almost a smirk, as her fingers worked the cloth through the locks of silver-gold hair atop Aegon's head. "He won't bite, 'Senya. He's a very tame dragon, our brother. Gallant and fearsome as you've seen, but tame for us she-dragons to handle. Come."
Visenya huffed. An internal conflict was waged for a few seconds' time, then she spoke. "I'll not have it be said that I won't aid those who've fought for me, and won." With confident, purpose-filled steps, she went to Aegon's other side, and took the cloth he offered her, "You've made me proud, Aegon. Truly. I wished twas I that saw Ser Cletus on his knees and crying out like a babe, but..."
"I won't risk you. Not ever." Aegon's words came without so much as a beat of hesitation. His eyes were aflame, and the passion and the care within them was a thing to be feared; there'd been a hope that what Daenerys had heard was meant for her rather than Visenya, that she was to be Aegon's second wife, but more and more that seemed not the case. Her worries and errant thoughts of her princely brother were washed away when he grinned as a boy might, losing the masculine charm the battle had brought about as more words flowed forth. "Might I make mention of that second kiss to be placed upon my other cheek, or would that be pushing my luck?"
Rhaenys was grinning, her hand still working through his hair with that wet, whitish cloth. It seemed she found Aegon's burst of boldness amusing, or mayhaps it was Visenya's way of reacting to it that amused her so.
Whatever the cause, it wouldn't continue whilst Daenerys was there, for she shook her head. "It would." Daenerys answered before Visenya had the chance.
That sternness from their usually sweet, innocent-seeming and small aunt was surprising, and had Rhaenys' hand halt and Aegon's mouth close. Visenya made to pay it no mind, yet that was a challenge in and of itself, for she took note of the look her siblings exchanged upon hearing Daenerys' words.
It was like they'd not expected that from her, nay, that such words weren't possible to come from their sweet little aunt.
Then the pair shared a look, and Rhaenys made to play off Daenerys' remark. "A jest from our Aegon, Auntie. He's greedy, and desires our attention for himself."
Aegon took on a look of mock indignation. "You think me a greedy man?"
Rhaenys' lips twitched before she pressed a kiss against his cheek. "You, my precious little baby brother?" She batted her lips and wiped the cloth across his forehead, slow and loving in the motion. "Only on occasion." With laughter, Rhaenys stepped back and tossed the cloth onto the table, where a number of other items rested. There were scented oils, poultices, and salves to ease aches, but those would see usage later, when all present had their fill of sparring; Visenya would try to spend time with bow and arrow too, if she could.
Horseback riding was still unlikely to be allowed. If not for the myriad of people present for the upcoming tourney in celebration of her, then on account of the 'chance' she might make to flee from her family.
"You can stop wiping him down, Visenya. Enjoy the attention as Aegon might, Father and Nuncle Oberyn expressed how important it was to me that we have words before you're able to use the sparring yard." Rhaenys had spoken again, and this time, her voice conveyed the rare and elusive seriousness she was capable of.
She sounded almost like Daenerys.
Aegon had noticed as much too, for his lips were pursed and a pout came forth. "So soon?" He sagged in his seat, his eyes lidded as one hand sought out Rhaenys. "Visenya's hands felt lovely enough I half-thought I'd let sleep claim me 'til the conversation was over. Our little sister could teach you much, Rhaenys."
"Oh?" Rhaenys gave him the sweetest of looks and matched her tone thereto as she let Aegon pull her close. "Perhaps you can pester her whensoever you're 'sore' or 'uncomfortable'? That'd certainly give me much in the way of unused time going forward."
That remark made Aegon pull her close, and from there, a bout of play-wrestling came forth as brother and sister let their dragonsblood takeover. Many would consider it inappropriate in a number of fashions, many of which Visenya agreed with... yet they seemed so pleased, so genuine when it was not but family with them. How could she ruin that happiness, queer as it might be to her?
So she carefully pulled away, setting down the sweaty, water-covered cloth she'd used to wipe away the beads that had been upon Aegon's hair. As she did so, she noticed Daenerys' sterner look, the one she'd worn since the two had been so 'intimate' with her, melt away into that usual sweet, girlish innocence. Her twin had mastered it so well that Sansa would've been hard-pressed to do better; she was pleased to see she hadn't made Daenerys dislike her siblings or think of them in another light either.
That was the last thing she desired, not that it were possible in the first place — Dany had over a decade's time with Aegon and Rhaenys, and nary a moon with her. If a choice need be made…
Visenya shook her head and didn't let her eyes linger on her siblings' play-fight too long, lest Rhaenys catch her watching. And so, without a word, she made her way from the seat that was more bed-like than otherwise, back whence they'd come when first they'd arrived to the little tucked-away corner.
She took nary a dozen steps 'til she was stopped by Daenerys' hand touching her shoulder. "Where are you going?"
"I'd like to make use of the distraction each makes for the other and visit the yard." Visenya took the hand from her shoulder up in one of her own; they were a near-perfect match for one another. Down to the last detail, though their fingers were slightly different in length, with Visenya's own being longer. "Would you care to join me? You needn't practise… of course, but I'd enjoy the company whilst I look over what weapons they've permitted me to wield."
"Permitted you to wield?" Daenerys scrunched up her nose in such a cute way, and it was a look Visenya could never see her matching regardless of how similar they were. "We're Targaryens. Should not every weapon in the Seven Kingdoms be ours for wielding if called upon?"
"I doubt the King would desire me to practise with live steel." Mayhaps there was a lingering bitterness since she'd not had her bout with Ser Cletus sanctioned.
Daenerys' hand tightened around her own. "You'll wield a live sword soon enough, I'm sure, 'Senya." There was a brief pause as they allowed Ser Barristan and Ser Loras to grow near enough for the Kingsguard to escort them, and then Daenerys spoke up once more; Visenya imagined she'd used the time their steps took to think... she had, and it seemed her conclusion was to switch to something else entirely. A topic that'd see her mood made bright as the Southron sun above. "Did you hear that your cousin means to visit?"
"Robb?" Marna's eyes widened a fraction as a smile spread across her lips. "When? Why?"
"For your tourney. He'll sail aboard a Manderly ship, or mayhaps he is already. I know not... but he'll bring with him the knights thereof. I believe Rhaegar mentioned a 'Jorah' that Lord Stark is sending in his place, and a few lordlings." Daenerys made as if there was more, yet then her look turned sour. It seemed whatever else the King had said when he heard tell of her cousin and his contingent of Northmen coming south for her tourney, Daenerys didn't wish to repeat. "Don't tell him I told you. He'll mean to speak with you soon. I'd not spoil his surprise."
Father.
Visenya's smile widened. "Of course." Her heart beat a tad faster at the notion. She'd not seen Robb in so long, and he was... Gods.
He'll be the closest to home I've come. If only Arya could join him. Fa— Lord Stark wouldn't allow that.
If only.
"Thank you." Visenya knew it was belated a smidge, but all the same she stopped their steps and wrapped Daenerys up in a hug. It was tight and warm, and Daenerys' softness made her heart flutter as she greedily basked in the embrace of her twin. The scent of lilac that hung around her always made her smile, as did the faint sweetness of the scented oils she used and the fruit she oft broke her fast with.
"I did nothing," Daenerys gave a giggle, a sound Visenya was sure she'd never tire of, and returned the hug. It was gentle, but strong, and so reassuring.
When the steps to the yard below grew nearer, and the voices of the menfolk therein grew louder, Visenya took in a breath; there would be staring, gaping mouths, lustful intent, and altogether too much unwanted attention. The thought alone made her skin prickle.
"Let's go see what they have for you." Daenerys pulled on her hand and skipped ahead, a jovialness about her that lightened the load of her previous thoughts.
Visenya had to hasten her own pace lest she fall behind and let slip Daenerys' hand. Thus, there they went, the quintessential Targaryen Princesses gracefully skipping down the stairs with giggles that did just as Visenya thought.
They had every single eye upon them, and the stares and whispers and the gaping mouths were in plenty.
How splendid.