¹ 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒 ━━ 𝐝. 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧

xxxv. the fire in our blood

    His mother, however, did not seem amused by his antics.

    Void. That was perhaps the best way Valerys could describe Alicent Hightower. Fashioned into the skin of a dutiful woman, a fertile body laden in deceiving gold, but the yellow glimmer was nearly as false as her smile. There was no stubbornness, no rearing of the stallion within her heart to free herself of the bonds she was in; nor was their implicit sadness at her unwanted position as a glorified broodmare. Alicent was rather... indifferent to it all, or if she did care, did well in hiding it beneath a regal facade. She did not look pleased for the life she'd created, nor the life she contemporarily gestated. Whatever joy had been in her life had died the moment her false vows left her lips, a child championed in white, spewing oaths she did not understand.

     "I am glad to have my family with me," Viserys said in a grin, his joy a failing salve to both his wife and youngest daughter's hidden plights. "It is a most joyous occasion; off to celebration and adventure within the Kingswood."

    A sneer curled Rhaenyra's lip. "Aegon won't even remember this," she said, all poison. "Why waste funds on such a ceremony?"

    Her father had become exasperation in flesh. "You do not recall the feasts we threw you, and yet they still occurred." A sigh, a shift of weight in his seat. "If nothing else, then see this as a means to be with the whole of our family... and potentially uncover a suitor for you."

    The wheelhouse jolted before Rhaenyra could spit out another jeer. Alicent grunted and curled a fist on the peak of her swollen stomach. "Are you alright?" Valerys asked, bouncing Helaena on her knee as the young girl grew annoyed by the constant rumbling.

     "Indeed." It was said through gridded teeth, and — like most all of what Alicent said and did — false. "Being out in nature will do me well, I believe. Being holed up has sent me half insane."

    Valerys humored her with a jerky laugh. Rhaenyra did not. A beat, and Viserys turned a stern eye on both his daughters. "Soon, you will both be mothers." His eye twinkled, a conjured image of his daughters futures stoking a flame in his eyes. Dread stabbed like a salt sword through Valerys' belly. "And I shall be a proud grandsire."

   There was an unspoken argument in Valerys' eyes: she practically already was a mother. The weight of Helaena upon her lap was far less than the weight of motherhood on her mind.

     "It isn't so bad," conceded Alicent, trying to form a smile. It appeared more of a self-piteous grimace. "The days and nights are long, but it is worth it. To give your Lord Husband an heir is a grand feeling."

     "I'm sure it is," hummed Rhaenyra, and Valerys felt her body go cold in apprehension. Had the small fuse her sister barely kept out of the fire been alit? "I cannot wait to be chained to the birthing bed."

     "Excuse me?" It was not authoritative, nor entirely demanding, but it was displeased. Knitted eyebrows and frowns had since become Viserys. Valerys presumed she should begin keeping tallies each time her father and sister fell into inane argument.

    Blue fire licked in Rhaenyra's slitted eyes. "I cannot wait to be chained to the birthing bed. A princess turned broodmare, the blood of my forebears nothing more than a reason to claim by womb; once, it was reason to bow."

    Shadow of winged death, fire made form, the plague that rid Westeros of its former Kings. Blood that made strong men quiver and stronger kingdoms bow. Strands of spun moonlight, eyes of bloomed lilac, once a effigy of worship, a bridge of the heavens and earth, now reduced to what? To Kings who could not bare heirs, to princesses who stomped upon their path of fate in hopes to crack it? Stark amethyst eyes had bled from their genealogy, and it seemed, so had that fire, that of which had once made the Seven Kingdoms bend the knee and kiss the talons of dragons.