Visenya's eyes scanned over the series of weapons critically. It was a finer castle-forged steel than Winterfell, and most of the weaponry was clearly of a higher quality… no, no just more ornate. Yes that was the difference. That was expected. She was a Princess of House Targaryen. It would be a slight upon the realm for her to be offered weapons of lesser quality or beauty.
"Do you dislike all that you see?" Daenerys' inquisitive eyes were locked upon her. "If you prefer, I could have Ser Barristan send for other options?"
Visenya shook her head, and her silver-gold hair flowed back and forth in waves. She'd not cut it since their arrival, and whilst that was perhaps a foolish notion given how unwieldy it'd become, the way Rhaenys had looked upon her, and the way Aegon had reacted to it, made her feel more… Targaryen. "It's of a good-enough make." Gaudy, but the craftsmanship was there; she wouldn't say that out loud. "I hope Father will allow Ser Loras to take me to the Street of Steel this sennight or moon. I would have my own weapons… or, as much mine own as they can be."
Daenerys tisked. "Rhaegar would see whatsoever you desire, purchased. He and Elia really intend on spoiling you for all the years they missed."
"As do you, sweet aunt." Visenya poked fun at her twin, and earned a smile that had her own lips curling up.
"How can't I?" Daenerys' free hand took up some of Visenya's errant strands and twisted them together, then pulled her closer by the length; the little gentle tug made her snicker and smack at the other girl. She'd acted just as Arya would. With a little giggle as she dodged, Daenerys spoke again, and in that honey-sweet, soft tone of hers. "We're the same. I would spoil you as much as I would myself. My lovely little niece."
"I suppose." Visenya allowed Daenerys to draw her near and pull her into a little half-hug. With all the menfolk already looking at them, there was nary a reason to deny the affection she'd come to love; it wasn't as if they could stare at her anymore intently, anyway. To think they thought themselves stealthy. "Ser Loras?" She sent a look over her shoulder, to the boyish young man in white who'd taken up position nearby.
"Yes, my Princess?" He smiled just as warmly at her as ever.
"What do you make of the few daggers present? Which two might serve best for me, do you think?" She kept her eyes trained on the young knight, not allowing herself a glimpse of the men watching their exchange.
Ser Loras sent a look Ser Barristan's way, and then the young knight stepped closer, until he was by Visenya's side and looking over the various choices laid out. She'd never seen so pensive a look upon the youthful face of the Knight of Flowers; how she'd laughed when first she'd heard the title, and then how adorable she'd thought it. A sweet name for a sweet and true knight.
"What of these two, Princess?" He picked up two that seemed of the exact same make, and ran a thumb down the 'blade' of one. Her heart had dropped, expecting him to have hurt himself, yet she saw no blood; she forgot they were blunted, engrossed as she'd been at the sight of steel. "Light and with little extra added. I should think these two would suit you well."
She took the daggers in her hands when offered by Ser Loras, feeling their weight and getting a feel for them. Then she tossed the one she'd been handed in the air with a flick, catching it by the hilt, and repeated the action several times over, getting a sense for the way it flipped and spun; there was a certain enjoyment too, given how long it'd been since last she'd been able to toy with a blade. "Mayhaps…
Visenya pondered the silence of Daenerys and Ser Loras, and looked up to find each had their eyes trained on her, surprise so very evident.
"Is something amiss?" Visenya felt a frown form, and her brows drew close. Had she done something wrong?
"How did you learn to do that?" Daenerys asked first, and the question had Ser Loras nod and echo it.
"You had me worried." Ser Loras' look turned inquisitive, and his eyes seemed to seek out the pommel of his blade. Mayhaps the boy in him wished to see if he could perform the same trick, but the knight in him won out. "More and more you impress me, Princess Visenya."
The words had her blush and look away. She had never been able to accept a compliment, especially one as sweet as that. So she spoke, answering the question he'd asked earlier. "I think these two will do." They were a nice pair, and fit well in her hands. Light, and easy enough to toss. "I'll practice with these 'til Father thinks me ready for live steel," She set them down by her side and took up another dagger, a slightly bigger one with a thicker, broader blade and much finery to it.
Ser Loras stepped closer. "That would be an unwise choice, Princess. It would be easy enough to lose balance whilst fighting a larger opponent, and the weight would hinder your ability to throw the weapon, if you desired to do so."
The advice made her giggle, then she remembered how many eyes were on her, and set to right herself. "I don't believe Aegon or Rhaenys would appreciate it if I were to throw a dagger at them during our spar."
"I'd imagine not, Princess." Ser Loras grinned, and took a step back, taking up his old spot near Ser Barristan, whereupon the older knight nodded at the younger, seeming proud in how he'd conducted himself.
Visenya made to speak again, this time to Daenerys, but then she heard the sound of an approaching party. The clanking of armour and heavy footfalls drew closer, and she couldn't help but turn, her prior words forgotten; as she'd suspected, it was Aegon and Rhaenys, and the score and a half of men that trailed after them.
"You made a grand escape, little sister," Rhaenys said with a tut. Her violet eyes scanned over the choices and settled on the two daggers Visenya had selected. "Are those to your liking?"
"Aye." Visenya's eagerness drew forth the truest form of response she could give. One that was Northern, and had her 'accent' as heavy-sounding as ever. Quick as could be, she looked away as a familiar heat came to her face. Quieter, she spoke again. "These will do well… did you have a hand in the selection?"
Aegon raised the hand that wasn't wrapped 'round one of Rhaenys', who was much too busy fussing over her with little, wordless coos. "I would be responsible for that, little sister. Ever since first you made mention of fighting with two daggers, I sent out for a dozen of the best." His eyes fell to the two she'd chosen. They were amongst the more simple and plain, with a single ruby set into the hilts. "Mayhaps those are not what I expected you to choose, but still, they're a fine make."
"No?" Visenya tilted her head, curious as to his reaction.
"I would have thought you'd pick the ones with the more ornate and colourful jewels. There're a half dozen of them there." Aegon gestured to the row where her choice had previously lain. "They're more befitting a woman of your beauty."
Rhaenys gave a little series of nods in agreement. "Tell her the rest." Those words were meant for Aegon, who'd paused for a moment, seemingly lost in the Warrior-Princess Visenya was certain he was envisioning her as.
She didn't mind all that much; her mood was too pleasant for his ogling to prove bothersome. Blunted as they may be, she had weapons in-hand, and unbecoming as the Dornish symbol might be, she wore armour.
Real armour the likes of which she imagined the original Visenya Targaryen wore.
Prompted, however, he spoke again; his eyes focused on naught but her the whole while. "We've more ornate ones ready to be made in the likeness of all that you've seen, should you wish it." He leaned forth, and took one up in his free hand. More words came forth as he admired one of the more ornate ones; the pommel had a pattern most beautiful etched into it. "The best smiths of King's Landing will work to have them made to match the ones you use for training to the smallest details, so there's nary a difference. We'll even have the hilts decorated with a design of your choosing... so long as it's more worthy of you than those that you chose to spar with."
"My choosing?" The idea had her heart flutter. To have something so special, and so unique… it would be amazing; like her Northern sword.
"Naturally, we'll be at your side when the visit you wish to make with Ser Loras sees this happen. We'll need tell you which we've worked with, and who best to purchase from." Rhaenys' grin was wide, and the look in her eyes so very telling of what such a trip would entail. "I'll also make sure you have a proper set of clothing made for this visit. I shan't have my lovely little sister seen by so many without looking the sight of a Valyrian Goddess."
Blush as she might, Visenya loathed when she was the centre of attention. All the better to have a dimly-lit, private and small-sized space where one could go unnoticed... but now, that was no longer her life. Every person would do as the many menfolk around her had and continued to do; steal glances betwixt their various spars or conversations, all trying to catch her eye, to win a smile or a mayhaps even a bit of praise on a blow they thought well-struck.
Visenya sighed and her gaze drifted back to her siblings. "We should begin soon."
"Eager?" Rhaenys' eyes glimmered with amusement.
"I am." Visenya's look went to the sword strapped to her elder sister's side. There was a spear not too far off to the side from where they stood, likely Rhaenys' true weapon. "I would see how I fare against you both."
Rhaenys and Aegon shared a glance and a laugh, and then Rhaenys spoke. "Who would you have first, baby sister? Me, or our dashing brother?"
Visenya considered the question, and then her eyes turned to that aforementioned 'dashing' brother of theirs. She didn't know him near so well as she knew Rhaenys. That was changing, to be certain, but it was likely he was the fiercer opponent, and whilst each would go easy on her, she half-thought Rhaenys wouldn't so much as touch her. Not with how covetous she seemed to be of Visenya's blemish-free skin and pretty face she oft made mention of. "I would see how I fare against Aegon."
Aegon's hand fell from Rhaenys' grasp as soon as Visenya's words were spoken. He gave a nod to Ser Darry, who began to have near the whole-yard cleared for their usage; whilst that was happening, he seemed to size her up. His violet eyes scanned her frame in a manner that made it seem he was seeing her for the very first time.
Mayhaps in a manner of speaking, he was.
"I'll not strike you hard, sister, but I expect you to strike with all your might. Armoured as I am, it'll do little and less... just don't aim to wound or see me maimed, if you would. I believe Rhaenys much prefers my handsome face intact, and she would be most upset with you if you were to see it ruined." Aegon gave a grin at the end of his little speech, and as he'd been when first she'd mentioned her love for dual-wielding daggers, he seemed so intrigued, so eager to see her skills.
Gods did it make her anxious; what if he bested her in the blink of an eye?
Rhaenys' response was missed, but by the laughter of Daenerys and Aegon, it'd been a jest.
There was a brief lul, then Aegon cleared his throat, and took a few steps back, into the dry-seeming dirt.
"Ready, sister?"
"Yes."
She was.
It had been queer to stand with so many onlookers as she stood opposite of Aegon, with two daggers in her hands. Even after Ser Darry had seen so many away, the thought of Daenerys, Rhaenys, two late-arriving Sand Snakes and the men of their guard, watching filled her with a sense of unease.
She shook her head as they'd taken their places, righting herself to the headspace she need be in for a spar, and then, Ser Barristan saw the bout start.
"Begin!"
Aegon, ever the warrior-prince, didn't hesitate to step forth. He swung his blade once, and the sound of it cutting through the air filled her ears, but she had no time to react, no time to even raise her blades.
His speed was so very quick.
With a gasp, she dodged the swing that would have hit her if she hadn't been as fast as she'd been, and her heart pounded. It'd been more than a moon, mayhaps two since last she'd truly had a bout, and since, she'd done naught but feast on the finest of foods, take steaming hot baths, or sit with her new family.
Aegon didn't immediately strike again. He jogged past her, then turned and raised his blade.
"Not as skilled as you let on, sister?" He sounded teasing, but his eyes held the fire she'd seen before in his spars. It wasn't as bright, and he, not as fierce, but all the same, she was fighting a Dragon Prince. "Perhaps we should have had Rhaenys go first."
That made her eyes narrow, and so Visenya adjusted the grip she had of her daggers. As he'd mentioned, he knew not her skill level, and thus seemed hesitant to strike too quickly or too strongly lest he hurt her despite the armour and padding that would lessen the blow.
A mistake, really. One she could exploit; the Southron were treacherous she'd heard time and time again, so too would she be.
Visenya waited for him to approach again, and when he did, she was ready.
"Do not tease me so." She ducked under his blade, and the wind so faintly whistled as his steel cut through the air above her; it wasn't quick and dangerous-sounding as it'd been with Ser Cletus. When she stood, she thrust a dagger forth. Aegon twisted to the side, and the tip of her blade barely scraped along his breastplate.
Aegon grinned, and stepped forth, swinging his sword as he made his advance once more. "You'll need be quicker."
Visenya backpedalled, feigning fear when really, she was thinking, calculating, planning her next move.
She was a Wolf of Winterfell, and no pup.
He lunged, slow and with a reluctance visible to even her in the midst of their fight, and so Visenya went low, launching herself with a violent burst of speed. She crashed into his midriff, and though she felt the force of his armour and the padding, it'd not been enough to keep her from bringing him to the ground given the lack of balance and care he'd taken.
Aegon had barely begun to fall when she'd righted herself, low as she'd already been, and brought a blade down on the flat of his sword; the weapon clattered from his grasp as she settled atop him, one leg on either side of his body with her weight keeping him 'pinned' as she settled astride him.
Visenya brought the edge of her second blade to his throat.
Nary a word could be said by Visenya or Aegon before the joyous laughter of Rhaenys and Daenerys rang out, loud and melodious as ever.
"Our little sister's fierce as I thought." Aegon pushed himself up even despite her weight atop him, and the two shared a glance. There was no anger in his eyes, only pride of sincerest kind, and surprise; she thought amusement present as well. "Well-done, Visenya. It would seem I underestimated you. Small as you might be, you're fierce as Quentyn whinged about."
Visenya broke that glance and leaned back, very aware of the closeness as well as the eyes of their guards, and their blood; the latter of which had begun to approach with little bursts of giggles and shared words.
As Rhaenys switched from sharing whispered words with Daenerys, to speaking loud enough for her siblings to hear, Visenya came to a total standing position.
"Well-done, little sister. That was impressive."
"She's skilled. I didn't expect it." Aegon took her offered hand, and came to a standing position himself, his violet eyes still taking her in. There was a hint of something she couldn't place, a glimmer she'd not seen in her other brothers. "Mayhaps I should spar with her more often."
"Over me?" Rhaenys raised a hand to her heart, feigning offence. That look came and went in a moment, replaced with a grin. "Another bout, Brother?"
Visenya agreed. "You asked for me to do my best. I'd expect the same of you." It brought her no small amount of annoyance to think he'd held back so much. "You'd better put forth effort this time."
"As you wish, sweet sister."
Aegon looked to the side, and had two boys with not so much as a sign of one hair on their faces come forth. One had a cloth, and the other, a wineskin. Aegon used the former, and took a generous drink from the latter, wiping away the sweat and dirt. He made to hand it back to the boy which he'd taken it from, but Rhaenys made a noise. It sounded half-whining, and half-pleading, and the look in her eyes had him roll his. "Go ahead."
Rhaenys placed upon his cheek the most princessly of kisses, and let Aegon raise the skin to her mouth. Her eyes went shut, and after a moment, she stepped away and passed it back to the boy who'd gone red. "Thank you, darling."
Aegon didn't speak; he merely returned to where he'd previously stood.
Daenerys went to her side before Visenya too went back to where she'd need to. "You were very impressive, my twin." She fawned over her, those small, pale hands plucking at the armour and checking over her. "It almost made me desire to take up a blade as you do... almost. I fear I'd not so much as take a few steps 'til exhaustion took me with all that you've on you."
Visenya shook her head. "If I prove able, so too would you."
They shared a look of the fondest kind, and a grin, but their moment was broken by Rhaenys clearing her throat.
It was time for her rematch with Aegon.
His stance was different. That much was so immediately clear by the way he moved, and his positioning. Aegon was no longer so hesitant. If anything, her showing and words had made known to him she could handle herself, and was no delicate, Southern flower to be handled with care. There were twin jolts of nervousness and excitement at the prospect of facing the Aegon that Ser Cletus and Ser Garlan had fallen to rather than the brother who wished not to harm so much as one silver-gold hair atop her head.
Rhaenys called out when neither made to move. "Start! I'll grow weary from all this standing 'round if you'll not!"
Her voice drew a chuckle from her shadow, Ser Jaime, and had Daenerys laugh, but both Visenya and Aegon were focused on one another.
Then, he strode forward as he'd done before, still as confident, but not quite as playful or half-hearted. The Prince was no fool; he knew the danger of his opponent now, even if he didn't know of her experience.
This time, she didn't wait.
Visenya's feet moved the moment she was able, and as quick as she could, she went to her right, avoiding the strike. A dagger lashed out, and she scored a strike on his breastplate, leaving a smudging mark that drew a noise of surprise from Aegon.
And then he struck her in the chest, the blow so hard that it sent her tumbling backward.
The dirt and the grass was far from soft, and as she landed, her breath was stolen. The pain wasn't too great, but it was enough to make her wince, and have her pause a moment to regain herself. Aegon was on her before she could stand. He pinned her, and the weight of him was so much that it was like being crushed by a rock. His knee dug into her side, and it was near painful as he'd kept her down.
"Yield, little sister." Aegon had a gleam in his eyes... and something darker as their breaths mixed and their faces neared. His sword was pressed against her throat. "I'd not see you fall again."
Visenya blinked at him through narrowed eyes, but she was no fool. This fight was over.
Aegon had her beat, and with a blow she'd not so much as seen coming 'til it was much too late. Gods, the power behind it... the strike was worse than most any Robb would give her. "I yield."
Aegon pulled the blade back, and rolled off of her, standing as he'd done with a grin. He offered his hand. "That was a good fight."
Visenya was grateful for the help. "As you say." She dusted herself off, and her gaze drifted to Rhaenys. "My sister's turn." She hoped none of the disappointment she felt in herself showed; Aegon was even better than she'd thought from watching him.
Speaking of said sister, Rhaenys and Daenerys each made their approach, the latter with worried, awed eyes whilst the former seemed far more complex to read, such were the myriad of emotions in her eyes.
"Are you well?" Daenerys separated from Rhaenys once she'd grown close enough. Those small, soft hands were on her again. "That was a blow."
"It was." Visenya nodded, and let out a breath. "But I'm not hurt, sister."
Daenerys' face scrunched as she continued to worry over her. "You're certain?" she turned those typically-sweet eyes that matched her own to Aegon, and saw them narrowed.
But before any word could be said, Rhaenys was the one to speak, a hand on Daenerys' shoulder. "You were very good, little sister." The praise was unexpected, and the smile was no less so. "Very good, indeed."
This time, it was Visenya's turn to scrunch up her nose. "Mayhaps the first time, when Aegon held back." she huffed and looked away as inwards thoughts focused on training in the sparring yard took hold. "I proved no great foe for our brother."
"I'd not say that." Aegon took up one hand, tossing aside their sparring blades. "You're better than many I've faced, and you show nary a sign of fear."
Daenerys' face further scrunched up. "Surely that's something that need change."
"We can discuss what sweet 'Senya need change later. I'd face my little sister the way she is," Rhaeny took her other hand, and with a gentle pull, saw her taken from Aegon. "Now, let us begin, sweet sister — you needn't tell me not to hold back as you did our Aegon either. I saw the game you played with him, and I know you're no defenseless maiden."
Daenerys had been pulled away by Aegon, the two speaking amongst themselves, and so Visenya sought out her daggers.
As it turned out, the good, kind and ever-so-sweet Ser Loras had picked them up and brought them back to her, along with Rhaenys' spear; she'd been too distracted or unbothered to get it herself.
"Thank you, Ser Loras," Visenya made certain to show him the genuine smile his kindness deserved.
"Of course, princess." Loras was quick to return it, and then, with a nod to Rhaenys, he stepped back to a suitable distance; there, he could observe her and the area. In little and less time,
Visenya took the moment before she'd turn and face her new sister, to take a look around the courtyard. It was no longer the guardsmen alone that kept the four Targaryens company. Two of the Sand Snakes, Tyene and Nymeria she believed them to be, lounged in an alcove. They watched her, and the sight made her feel a prickle of nerves.
Just how long have they been there?
She hoped not long enough for them to have seen Aegon handle her with the ease that he had.
"Does your mind wander, 'Senya?" Rhaenys called back her attention, and when Visenya gave it, she saw her sister leaning against the spear Ser Loras had handed her. "Mayhaps you'd prefer to face Tyene or Nymeria?"
Visenya shook her head. "No." She'd not seen much of either girl, and knew not whether or not they were skilled, but if they'd been allowed to spar, and were here, then surely it had to mean they were good. If not at Aegon's level, then near to Rhaenys'. "It's just a little difficult to not take note of the many watching eyes. There's nary a moment of privacy here."
"They're our family." Rhaenys shrugged, and twirled the spear in her grasp. "They'll watch ours as we'd theirs. I'm sure our Uncle would've loved to have watched you too, were he not asleep with Ellaria... and perhaps another or two."
"What?" Visenya's eyes snapped from thew two Sand Snakes, and back over to her sister; her gaze focused entirely thereon.
Surely Rhaenys didn't mean what it sounded like.
"Uncle Oberyn's a very free man, little sister."
That made her frown, and her eyes narrowed. "He's your uncle. Do you not find it odd that he should bed other women, even the mother of his children, as he does?" She found their public 'affection' and the newest fact she'd learned beyond perverse.
"Odd? No." Rhaenys chuckled. "I'd have been disappointed in him were it not the case. I'd prefer him be happy with all those he's joined with than miserable with one he has no interest in. Uncle Doran knows by now that the Viper needs no other snakes save for the Sands."
In the queerest of ways, Visenya found that quite endearing. Oberyn had seemed kind enough, and his daughters spoke of their sire in reverence, each having nothing but good to say about him.
"Are we done talking?" Rhaenys puffed out her cheeks. "I'll need lay down come soon enough."
Visenya adjusted the grip she had over her daggers, and nodded. "We are."
"Good." Rhaenys' grin grew, and those violet eyes of hers flashed. "Now, let us dance, little sister."
One of Visenya's blades deflected a thrust from Rhaenys' spear, and then she went low, slashing the weapon in her opposite hand.
Her sister moved quick, and the attack was dodged with ease despite how swift Visenya thought it to be. As Rhaenys had said when first their spar began, she seemed to very literally dance around the yard. Each thrust, swing or dodge would happen with a flowing, graceful motion that drew jealousy from Visenya.
Rhaenys moved a short distance away, and her spear was spun once more. "You're quite good." She smiled, and it was most sweet despite attire and setting both. "And faster than I'd thought, but alas, I'm swifter still, baby sister, and my reach is superior. Should I take you now?"
The ease which Rhaenys seemed to think she could defeat Visenya made her eyes narrow dangerously. "You can't."
Rhaenys didn't waste a single second after those words left her lips. Her spear came for her helmeted head, and it was only thanks to the quickness of her reflexes that she didn't receive a spear ringing her head as a bell. Gods, did she hate when Robb would strike her there for that very reason and Lord Stark, he'd been most mad the first — and only — time he'd witnessed it.
Visenya lept back when a follow-up blow nearly struck her. Close as it'd been, her heart beat rapidly. The blood pounded in her ears. This was what she'd missed. Well, save for the fact that she was on the defensive. The spear came and came, and no matter how quick she'd been before, Rhaenys was quicker still. Her footwork was something beyond her; a true Princess that knew dance far better than Visenya herself did.
A dagger came out to meet a spear thrust and see it pushed aside with a trembling of her arm. Visenya was sweating by this point. Her long, silver-gold hair clinging to her skin where it'd come loose, and causing an annoying, near-stinging feeling as it scratched there against. Their spar had morphed into a game of movements. One that Visenya knew she was destined to lose if she proved unable to get close enough to Rhaenys to defeat her.
Her other arm came up to deflect a blow from a mailed fist that caught Visenya completely by surprise. A kick came next as Rhaenys did a twirl one might see a lord do to his lady, only with her leg higher up; improperly so. Visenya made to move back, but she'd moved in close upon her two deflections, especially that which saw one of her arms push away one of Rhaenys'.
And so Rhaenys' boot came down and slammed into her chest, kicking her to the dirt.
Once more, Visenya's breath was knocked out of her that day.
Once more, she'd been bested.
But, this time, there was a hint of satisfaction; it'd taken longer for Rhaenys to beat her than it had Aegon, and unlike their brother, her sister hadn't held so much as portion of her skill hidden. She'd truly been outmatched, plain and simple, and if she'd been able to use her full range of motion, Visenya had no doubt in her mind that Rhaenys would've ended it even quicker. Never had she thought the spear or its wielder so dangerous.
"I'd have you yield." Rhaenys' words were breathless as she came to stand over Visenya, the spear resting on Visenya's chest.
Visenya laid back in the dirt, enjoying the breeze that swept down and caressed her. After so much effort, and with the heat bearing down on her, the end of this round was more than welcome. "I yield, sister."
"You're certain you'd like to continue?" Daenerys' words were as worried as her post-spar checkover had been, but Visenya couldn't fault her.
"I am."
She wasn't done. Not quite yet. There was more she still had in her.
Aegon chuckled, and gave her a smile. "I'd have another turn against our little dragon, Rhae. Mayhaps you'd allow me?"
"I had another idea." Rhaenys looked betwixt her siblings. "You, brother, against Visenya and I both. I'm sure it'd be a most wondrous show for Dany and our cousins."
Visenya, who had been more than content to let Daenerys fuss and dab at her with a cool, wet cloth as she lounged in the shade, perked up at the suggestion. Then she sank back as Daenerys raised a cup of wine to her mouth.
"Drink." Her twin disliked so very much whensoever Rhaenys or Aegon had struck her, even if Visenya herself had nearly been glad to receive said blows. "I'll have a hot bath run for you as soon as you've fought your last spar — soon, I hope."
Visenya made to swallow the sweet, refreshing wine, gulping it down with long, greedy draws, only for a small bit of it to spill down her chin. Her eyes widened, and she made to wipe it away, but Daenerys was quick, and used her thumb.
"Careful, 'Senya." Her twin chastised her.
Flushed from exertion as her cheeks already were, Visenya smiled at the touch, and her eyes locked on Daenerys'. "Apologies, sister."
At her side, Aegon shifted, and so too did Rhaenys. The two shared a look of challenge, and then, they turned back to the twins.
"Shall we begin, sisters?" Aegon spoke, his voice low, but not enough for her to ignore it; she didn't miss how his eyes only briefly looked at their aunt before they swept over her in detail. His gaze made it seem as if he desired to commit her every detail to memory.
Clearing her throat, Visenya reluctantly sat up. Daenerys' pampering would, unfortunately, be concluded for the time being. "Yes." Visenya stood next, stretching and taking her daggers as she did so. Gods, did it feel good to have weapons in-hand. Finally, she could work out her frustrations; her wolf's blood, Nuncle Ned had called it when she or Arya would earn a chastening.
A hand pulled at her wrist. One large enough to encompass the whole thereof, albeit at the thinnest point.
Visenya's violet eyes traced the arm to its owner.
Rhaenys.
Her elder sister in near-matching armour was peering down at her. "Come." Those dark eyes flashed. "Let us show our brother what Princesses can be capable of."
And, as Rhaenys led her towards the centre of the courtyard, Visenya's heart beat in excitement. This would be the fight of the day, mayhaps even the whole moon.
She'd not let it be a disappointment
She'd not be a disappointment.
Rhaenys thrusted at Aegon, and as he reacted to their older sister's attack and follow-up strike, Visenya went in low. The blade in her dominant hand lashed out.
The tip of her dagger struck Aegon's right greave as he yanked his leg back. It'd been a glancing blow, but it was a blow nonetheless; already, one more than she'd thought she'd land this bout. It didn't go unanswered either.
Aegon, despite the two on one, had shown nary a sign of discomfort. His movements were swift, precise and with a grace that rivalled his sister's, or Daenerys'.
Visenya barely avoided a slash of his sword. As she ducked, Rhaenys swung her spear in a wide, overhead arc.
It was a blow that Aegon couldn't block or dodge; the sheer weight and speed of the strike made it so. She thought that would be it, that together, she and Rhaenys might see victory, but Aegon brought a hand from the pommel of his sword and threw aside her strike with his plate-covered forearm.
The move took Visenya by such surprise that she failed to move in time.
Aegon's sword clashed against Rhaenys' spear. He kicked out with a steel-clad foot and Visenya was knocked onto her arse.
She grunted.
Aegon and Rhaenys both took the moment of distraction to pull away from one another; the former couldn't attack whilst the latter remained poised to strike in defence of her little sister.
I can do better! I can't be the fault for our loss.
Visenya was quick to roll over and push herself to her feet. Her body ached. There wasn't an inch of her that wasn't covered in sweat. But, she'd not yield nor falter. The grip she had of her daggers tightened, and her resolve steeled as she made to move to Aegon's side.
Her eyes flicked betwixt the two as she did so.
Aegon was breathing with little effort, his eyes doing as hers were, and examining with a cool, confident smirk. His stamina seemed endless, and he hadn't taken a single major blow thus far; one could see he meant to let this fight last.
Rhaenys, her elder sister, was in much the same state. There was little sign of weariness in her, though, that might have been attributed to the fact that she'd spent a great deal less energy than either of her siblings.
Visenya's style of fighting was certainly the one that took the most effort, and it had the greatest chance for loss.
Sudden as the viper that was their uncle Oberyn, Aegon struck at Visenya and shook her from her observations.
She barely got a dagger between his blade and her wrist as the latter made to alleviate one of her arms of its possession. The clang of steel upon steel rang out.
It was then that Rhaenys went on the offensive. She thrust, and twirled, her spear coming at Aegon's side, and then his front as she stepped closer.
Visenya pushed his blade off of hers by way of an angle, using his strength against him. It was the only thing she had time to do. She couldn't risk a strike to her body, Gods, not if his attacks were swift as they were, and not if they had so much power behind them.
Aegon turned the blade from whence she'd deflected it, and slashed at her chest.
Her arm came up, but too slow, and the tip of his sword bit into her armour's elbow. She grimaced, and stumbled back as a bruise was very likely to be formed from the blunt-tipped strike.
Aegon's attack had been strong, but not without consequence
Rhaenys had spun, and the blunt end of her spear hit Aegon in the gut. He grunted, and took a step back.
Visenya felt a hand grasp her shoulder, and she was pulled back by her older sister just as Aegon's free hand made to grab at where she'd been. If the blows were anything to go by, once she'd be in-hand of his, there'd be no chance of escape.
She spun, aided by Rhaenys, and saw her dagger glance off his chestplate. It'd been a good attempt, but not one that was enough to strike a winning blow. Her second attack was more of the same, and Rhaenys was forced to move lest the counter-attack Aegon sent her way be successful.
Visenya blinked rapidly when a droplet of sweat rolled into her eye, and her vision blurred. Her chest heaved, and her grip on her daggers wavered. She had ridden or sparred for longer, so why now did she seem so tired after nary four bouts?
Aegon dashed forth with a burst of speed that still managed to surprise her despite the earlier use thereof. His sword came for her helmeted head.
Visenya dropped to the ground, and felt the rush of wind from his blade passing above her. She rolled forward, and made to get to her feet.
A foot slammed into her thigh, knocking her to a knee at the same time Rhaenys' wood-made spear was yanked from her grasp.
Visenya's teeth gritted and her eyes clenched shut as she was kicked back. Her breath was gone.
The sky was all she saw when she opened her eyes next.
There was a brief pause. A moment of silence, and then she heard a loud clatter, followed by two others.
She could only watch as Aegon's sword was kicked away by the man himself, and Rhaenys' spear tossed from his left hand to his right as he aimed it at its previous owner. The grin Aegon sported as he looked betwixt his fallen and disarmed sisters was most arrogant, but well deserved.
"My victory, I take it?" That grin he wore grew larger.
Visenya would've answered, had her breath not been so gone. As it was, she had all she could to rise and — with as much grace as one might muster whilst exhausted and dirt covered — saw her daggers back to their spots at her waist.
"This time. I do think this is the longest it's taken you to best me, Brother. And to think it took a show of strength rather than skill." Rhaenys smiled, her eyes flashing, and then she chuckled, clearly done teasing Aegon as she moved to Visenya's side. "We work well together, little sister. I should think in little and less time the three of us could fight as one."
"Mayhaps." Visenya lacked certainty. Her heart was still pounding much too hard, and there was a stiffness in one of her legs. That overwhelming heat that had the air shimmering, for lack of a better word, likely helped the matter not.
Her brother shifted, and then, Aegon was the next to approach her side; Daenerys, for her sake, was already moving most expeditiously her way, and with a new, wet cloth in-hand. When her eyes went back to her brother, she saw his grin was still large, but there was a softer quality to it now. It'd very clearly been difficult for him, especially at first, to strike her, but she'd not allow him to treat her like a fragile thing. She'd be the warrior her siblings were, deserving of her mother's wolf-blood... and Father's dragon-blood.
"You're a fierce one, 'Senya. I half-thought you'd bite me at one point." Aegon had more to say, but lacked the chance, for Rhaenys nestled into his side and cut him off.
Her tone when words came forth, low and honeyed as the cakes she'd had for breakfast, saw Visenya squirm and lean back as Daenerys' grew nearer. "You think the wolf in our sister would come out in the midst of sparring? I should think they bite elsewhere."
Aegon saw an arm 'round Rhaenys' waist, and shook his head at Visenya. "Our sister and her teasing — I can't say I'm unhappy that you're as oft her target as I."
"Please," Rhaenys waved her free hand, completely and utterly dismissive. "I know you're as fond as her flushed cheeks as I. She's as a doll, or the Maiden given flesh. I've wondered how pink we might pro—"
"Aegon, Rhaenys." Daenerys' voice was the sweetest of scolds as she finally joined them with soft steps and a soft visage. "Leave our 'Senya be. She needs rest and a meal, and I would see to her needs. Come, Sister."
Visenya, eager to flee from any sort of conversation that had to do with her, biting and 'the wolf in her', let her twin guide her away.
As she did, she smiled; dirt-covered, undoubtedly bruised, and sweat-drenched as she was, Visenya liked to imagine she'd proven herself to her siblings and the few others that'd watched.
If only horse or bow would follow.
Visenya scrunched up her nose. Rhaenys' words of warning in regards to Viserys were still quite fresh in her mind, and yet, Daenerys had opted to have him join the pair of them for the meal she'd made mention of back in the sparring yard. She found that queer, but she supposed it made sense for her to get to know this newly-found uncle of hers… even if he might share the same desire for her that Aegon seems to.
Aegon and Rhaenys both, mayhaps — would my sister be so sinful?
"Why're you scrunching your nose up?" Daenerys' slid into the space at her side, now in a 'fresh' dress since the last had been so dirty from the scant few score steps she'd taken through the yard.
When that went unanswered for nary a second's time, her twin took to poking at that supposedly scrunched-up nose of hers.
She was able to do so all of thrice before the still-armoured Visenya who'd been lounging lengthwise atop the plush, fabric-covered furniture pounced at her. In little and less time, the pair were squabbling as she and Arya used to, with hands going to sides for tickling and prodding thereat; luckily for 'Senya, the armour made her the untickleable, and so she had her twin at her mercy once her strength overwhelmed Daenerys' softness.
"Yield, sister?" Visenya made her best attempt at Aegon's voice.
"Yes! Yes, please!" Dany writhed under her, squirming and trying her hardest to dislodge Visenya from atop her. She failed. "Y-yield! Y— Gods!"
Visenya pulled back only then, when Daenerys' eyes rolled and the first tear rolled down her cheek. She'd never seen her twin so pink of face and meek.
How can any compare me to her?
There seemed no sense to such comparisons. "Sister?" Visenya had leaned back further, her rear resting atop her calves and feet; she fixed Daenerys with the sweetest look she could muster, going so far as to bat her eyes before they drifted down to her apparel — they returned to Dany's fast enough. "Help me get out of this? I fear the sweat might fuse it to me otherwise."
Dany wrinkled her nose. She leaned in not a second later, and gave a very loud sniff of Visenya's upper-body.
One that saw the latter go wide-eyed freeze.
Then, Dany giggled and stood up, and grabbed at her sister's hand, pulling her to her feet with no small amount of effort. "Come. Let's get you out of it. I'd like my sister not 'stinking' of sweat — your skin's much too fine to see pimpled thereby."
"I can bathe my own self on occasion." Visenya had no annoyance or real protest in her voice as Daenerys began to lead her to a basin, the latter calling to Ser Barristan for hot water to be brought to her chambers.
As Daenerys began to aid her with the straps and other pieces of apparel that'd been 'fitted' to her following said call, Visenya stayed stock still, only occasionally shifting a limb of twisting her body when prompted. Her twin was thorough and tender, and as she peeled away one of 'Senya's bracers, she giggled.
That made Visenya blink in confusion, then, embarrassment; was her smell that… ripe? She couldn't stand not knowing. "What is it?" Visenya turned her head so as to catch Daenerys' eyes… and almost immediately, saw her nose swipe that of Daenerys'.
"Your hands are the same as mine own, yet they wield a weapon better than I could ever dream possible — twins we might be, you're special." Daenerys shook her head when 'Senya made to comment, her gaze sharpening and leaving no room for disagreement. "I'll not hear otherwise. I'm your aunt too. Means you have to listen to me."
She sounds so much like Arya. Gods.
If not Daenerys alone, the joint thought of two she loved so very much made a small, foolish and — this she blamed on the Targaryen women — girlish smile come to her face. Gone was the lopsided or small grin, replaced by a look demure as she oft needed to be.
"Well?" Daenerys arched a brow, daring defiance with the most dimple-ridden smile of the day.
Visenya could but raise her one free hand whilst Daenerys worked over the other. "I shan't say a word in defiance. I swear it, Auntie."
"No," Daenerys' voice was petulant and the word hung in the air. "I alone get to abuse the title. You have to call me sister or twin."
"Is that a demand, Aun—"
The tickling resumed.
Visenya giggled as soon as Daenerys reappeared from whence she'd gone. Her twin had dressed to be just that, down to the necklace they wore 'round their pale necks, and the way their hair flowed down their backs.
"Do you mean to fool Viserys?" Visenya wondered if not that, then why else might Dany have opted to look so similar.
"Mayhaps if he's deep in his cups." Daenerys shrugged and drew closer, taking up one of Visenya's hands as she slid into the space at her side. "I... It's rather embarrassing to admit, but I'd always desired a sister and whilst Rhaenys made not to fill that role, you're perfect for it. My sweet, accented twin."
Visenya slapped at Daenerys' hand as the latter cooed and gushed over her, pinching at her cheeks and running her hand through the loose, silver-gold hair that was Visenya's.
She didn't protest the touches, though. Daenerys' were always pleasant as could be. "Do I really have a northern accent?" There wasn't worry in her tone, only… curiosity? Mayhaps her roots ran stronger than she'd thought, but she wished not for another reason to stand out.
"Yes! A very pretty one at that. I long to hear you speak our true tongue." Daenerys was quick to both assure and sweet talk her, her fingers going from the top of Visenya's head, to her neck and the collar of her dress to pull it up a smidge. "When your first lesson happens later thi—"
"Prince Viserys!" A voice boomed, causing Daenerys and Visenya alike to jolt; the pair's eyes snapped to the door as it pushed open a second later, the figure of the king's brother appearing thereafter.
"Ah, Daenerys, and... Daenerys?" Viserys' steps into the room stopped so suddenly that he stumbled as his eyes flicked between the two sitting upon the plush furniture and a mountain of pillows.
"Good evening, Uncle." Both Visenya and Daenerys greeted him.
As soon as Daenerys said as much, Visenya realised her twin wished to make a game of it more than she'd initially alluded to. She would play along.
"Which of you is which?" Viserys turned then to the men of the Kingsguard that stood on either side of the door, and without waiting for either Visenya or Daenerys to speak, he called to them. "Sers. Tell me true, which is my sister and which is my niece?"
Ser Loras and Ser Barristan looked into the room whilst the rest of their household guard remained still as stone.
Impatient, Viserys gave a beckoning gesture. "Come in, come in, and tell them apart for me, if you'd please. I'm unsure if I'm seeing double or nay."
Loras, who'd been the first to move, stepped inside and took a cursory look betwixt the pair of Targaryens. Visenya's smile was a large one, her hands clasped tightly at her stomach, her posture straight and eyes wide; Daenerys, meanwhile, had chosen to wear a most demure smile, her head tilted down and hands in her lap.
Visenya could see it clear as the light of day that the 'man' had it figured out, somehow.
When her eyes sought out Ser Barristan's nary a moment later, they caught a smile tugging at the old Ser's lips. It seemed each Kingsguard knew their charge better than Viserys knew either, enough so that, despite the deception, they could tell which was which — she'd need ask how that was later.
But before either could give answer to her uncle, Daenerys rose with the prettiest of pouts on her face. "You couldn't tell 'Senya and I apart, Brother? How cruel."
Viserys' face had been growing more and more perplexed the longer it took for the answer to be revealed, but upon Dany's words, he laughed and took a step further into the room. "Ah, my apologies. You're as one in the same — wine? Good wine?" With the mystery over, his eyes seemed to glint as he sought out what seemed to be his greatest love.
Daenerys shook her head when Viserys made to reach for it. "None for me, thank you."
"Nor me." Visenya's eyes drifted to Viserys' face when he looked at her.
"You both abstain?" He reached for the wine as his question hung in the air, his hand brushing Dany's aside as he grabbed the nearest cup. "But no matter, more for myself — Dornish too. Splendid. It's their finest export, did you know?"
Visenya didn't, but wine was never her fancy. Ale or mead, that was preferable.
As he lapped at it as a dog might in the imitation of a tasting, a thought ran through her that seemed the same as when last she'd met him.
He's most queer.
"Visenya sparred with Aegon and Rhaenys earlier this morn, Brother." Daenerys made mention of the happening as if it were normal, and as she did, she made her way back to Visenya, reclaiming her spot at her side; Ser Barristan and Ser Loras did the same, returning to their posts.
Viserys hummed.
His eyes drifted from Daenerys, to her, and back. He took another, longer sip from the cup. Then, a third.
By the fourth, the cup was half empty.
"A real Visenya then — very good. Very good." Viserys nodded a half-dozen times, his silver-gold hair that seemed so similar to hers, Daenerys, and Aegon's swaying betwixt those nods. "Means less reason for Rhaegar to have me in the yard."
Visenya sent a curious look Daenerys' way. Her twin, however, didn't see it, for her own eyes were fixed on Viserys.
"Did you win, then, Niece?" There was a note of curiosity in his voice, but nothing like how his eyes seemed to sparkle at the idea.
"I had a victory." Visenya didn't hide the smile that tugged at her lips at the thought of Aegon beneath her; she might've lost the follow-up match, but for that first, when he'd thought so little of her, she'd bested him and saw him helpless. At her mercy, for a change. "Rhaenys and I nearly had another against Aegon, but the two of us are new to working together, and he's much quicker than I had thought. And more powerful too — more so than one might think when looking at his frame."
Robb, younger as he may be and smaller thereby, seemed as if he'd grown into a far sturdier man than her new brother.
Viserys laughed, a sound that was akin to a bark. He was already pouring himself a new cup of wine, and when he was finished, he'd taken a swig that took the top third from it before he'd so much as set it down. "My nephew is slight as I was at that age. He has his unique strength, 'tis true, but the grace is all Rhaegar's. If not for the silver, one could easily mistake him for a Dornishman. The only difference is that my nephew has the temper of a dragon, whereas the Dornish, only their supposed 'passion'."
Visenya shifted in her seat. "That's rather unkind, Uncle." How strange it was that she should take up Aegon's cause despite the great deal of worry she felt towards him. Yet, Viserys' words were harsh, and she saw not how her brother could have such words said about him; since first she'd seen him, she'd thought him every bit the Prince as had been said.
"It is." Daenerys seemed to agree, and like when she grew defensive of Visenya, there was that same stern, scalding look about her. "They are our kin, Viserys. Our lovely nieces and nephews, like Visenya. Be kind. Be respectful. And keep your wits." Those final words were spoken almost in warning.
"I jest, sister, I jest. The gods know I love all our family. We're dragons — who else might we love but ourselves and one another?" Viserys grinned when the servants' arrival was made known, each arriving with platters laden with food."Might we eat? I'll admit, since midday yesterday, I've had naught but the finest of wines. My belly is empty as a beggar's cup."
That ripped a snort from her, and then she cast her eyes towards Daenerys. What did her twin think of Viserys' words and behaviour, she wondered.
The answer was harder to gather than she'd have thought, for Daenerys had a most queer look about her. One that said she was not happy, nor displeased, just...
Confused.
It was as if the words he spoke were ones he'd not say lest he was especially drunk or displeased by something.
"We may." Daenerys' hand saw Visenya rise as her twin did, the latter leading the way.
They were silent as they made to sit, each by the other.
Viserys made not to join them until a servant came and pulled a chair out for him, and by the time the man sat, he'd finished yet that second cup he'd poured. It was a feat that would have endeared him to many a man in the north, were it not for the silver-gold hair he sported, or the purple eyes that oft went with it.
Visenya's brows furrowed then, her Uncle's words left to the back of her mind as she thought of those same Northmen, some of whom had acted the part of her guard; honourable and pleasant, they'd been.
But what would they think of her now? She was a Targaryen, the family so many disliked for the losses they'd suffered or the Starks they'd murdered.
What would father and Robb think?
The thought of Robb made her stomach clench, and though she had no reason to, she hoped he wouldn't think her a traitor. Would that she could spend the bulk of her time with the Starks, in a place where heat and sun don't see one burnt, and where the stench of so many Southron doesn't spoil the air.
Gods, how she missed the scent of the Godswood.
"You seem a thousand leagues away, Visenya. Lost in thought, are we?" Viserys' voice tore her from those thoughts, and she looked to find him smiling.
She returned the smile with a nod. One that was more stiff than she'd meant. "I'm afraid so, Uncle. The tourney is soon to begin, and I have little desire to be gawked at by the masses. Those 'few' present here in the Red Keep stare enough at Aegon, Rhaenys and I whensoever we walk as is."
Viserys laughed. He leaned back in his chair, his arm stretching across its back, his legs kicking out before him. "And you expect that to stop? They're always the same. A new face means a new object of fascination. Some will love you, some will despise you, and others will want your attention for reasons beyond your understanding. But all will stare, forever. We're the blood of the Dragon, of Old Valyria, we are as gods to all others — you, Dany and I especially."
"The looks have persisted since first I can remember. I care not for them, but a time will come in which you grow accustomed to them." Daenerys' hand squeezed her own, then she nodded to a nearby servant, who began to add various foodstuffs to their plates; she hadn't realised how ravenously hungry she was until the smells and sights greeted her, for her eyes immediately snapped to the thickest cut of meat — a cut of what seemed to be boar.
"A time will come where you're glad to have the masses stare at you." Viserys spoke matter-of-factly as he saw a servant butter a slice of bread. "I suppose you'd have been gladder were you a Prince." He paused then, and scratched at his chin as he gestured for his cup to be topped-off.
Daenerys, for her part, hung her head and rolled her eyes. It seemed his words surprised her not.
Viserys was a man that spoke his mind, so it seemed. She'd thought him simply strange in action and word, but it seemed there was, very simply, something quite peculiar about him. He seemed, well, not simple, but a man whose tongue was as fast as his hands when it came to wine, and his eyes were always searching the room; erratic was a good word, and untrustworthy was another. Not out of spite, but out of that inability to stop his tongue from wagging as alcohol loosened it.
"Honeyed cakes!" Daenerys' words shook Visenya from another round of runaway thoughts, her gaze flicking towards a platter being set at her and her twin's side.
"I'll take one!" The words burst from Visenya's mouth before she could stop them, and she didn't even know if she wanted them, but she was suddenly reminded of the sweets that Robb would steal from the kitchens and bring to her Tower. Lady Catelyn desired not for her, Sansa or Arya to grow fat, lest a man not wish to take them as a bride.
Robb hadn't cared in the slightest.
Daenerys' amusement and Viserys' enthrallment by way of a pretty serving maid encouraged Visenya.
And so she grabbed another; that Wolfish hunger post-spar needed to be sated, and muscle gained, if she desired to best her siblings