¹ 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒 ━━ 𝐝. 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧

xxxviii. red tether

✧˖° 🌑 ೄྀ࿐
━ [   SONG OF SORROWS   ] ༉‧₊˚✧
x. act one... the dragon's daughter
red tether ━ ✩・*。

— SUMMER, 116 A.C
RED KEEP, KING'S LANDING

˚
.  * 　　　 ✦     .     　⁺ 　 .⁺ 　　    ˚
.  * 　　　 ✦     .     　⁺ 　 .
. 　 　  ⁺        ⁺

     AS a child, Valerys Targaryen had few friends. There, perhaps, was the cause for her encapsulating loneliness — the reason, she came to understand, her small form had come to bleed into the shadows trailing after her uncle. His little shadow, he'd once affectionately referred to her as; before, of course, womanhood drew her skin outwards and she no longer fit within the outline of his dark shadow. She had outgrown the darkness that slunk after him, and in doing so, had outgrown him. Or so she so desperately attempted to convince herself.

    With a youth streaked through with black rot, the epicenter a stinking wound that never seemed to close, sliced open by the black blade of political pressure, Valerys found that her one solace, the only person who ever seemed to truly understand her was Rhaenyra. Once as soft as the summer breeze, Rhaenyra chilled until she blew cold as the North winds, face set in an impertinent grimace ever since their mother died. Still, that red tether never frayed, never snapped, still wrapped taut around each of their hearts.

    How tragic is was that the red tether was not the only force pulling on them.

    Flickering candle light watched as two sisters stood, one  as tight-wound as a stone turret, the other flushed with the flames of the hearth behind her. White hair shone a dance of orange and yellow, and as the elder ran her dainty fingers through twists and tangles, she pulled on the ends and scrunched her face.

     "What would you have me do, Rhaenyra?" Valerys snapped, eyes an abyss of agony. "When I offered to oversee your marriage offers, it was not a guarantee you'd remain unwed!"

    Ice froze over Rhaenyra's cerulean eyes. "You are just like father."

    A stumble in movement, then Valerys was stalking towards her sister, lips drawn back in a vicious snarl. "If I were like father, I'd be rid of you already," she hissed, before intaking a sharp breath and closing her eyes. "Instead, I've allowed you to remain as you are, in an attempt to make you happy. But I cannot force you to enjoy your life, Rhaenyra! You're miserable!"

    Skin kissed skin. A ringing erupted in Valerys' left ear, shooting a pin-prick pain down her cheekbones and into the corner of her lip. A cruel touch bloomed red underneath, and Valerys' stood still. Time stood still, a taunt to her as she glanced towards Rhaenyra; within an azure rift shone betrayal and unchecked anger alike. At her sides, Valerys' fingers trembled — though from rage or misery she could not tell.

    Rhaenyra had slapped her; had raised a hand to her face for reasons other than comfort, had bruised her skin with animalistic cruelty, a tyrant dismissing its subject, a mother berating her child. Ash floated in Valerys' chest, her heart cinders, lit up in the wildfire of her hurt; internal, piercing hurt. She could barely feel the remaining sting of pain on her cheek from the blow — her chest ached too deeply.

    There came a heartbeat Rhaenyra stared at her elder sister, glancing at her raised hand as if it were the most vile criminal, as if her own actions hadn't levied it against Valerys' flesh. Glaciers thawed, impenetrable ice melted into such a profound regret Valerys almost reached to hold her sister. Almost.