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↳ vii . INTO THE SERPENTS LAIR
SEASON 1
EPISODE 8: THE LORDS OF THE TIDE
—HOUSE OF THE DRAGON—
HEAVY IS THE CROWN
KINGSLANDING
|| THE BOAT DISEMBARKED FROM THE TARGARYEN'S PERCH UPON DRAGONSTONE A FORE-NIGHT BEFORE—yet to Vyselyra, the swaying felt as though it was dragging on more than it should. As grueling minutes turned into hours; the famed princess of Instigation, was becoming increasingly frustrated.
Adding more salt to her wounds, Rhaenyra nor Naemera allowed for Windermere to come along. Both exclaiming what she had done 8 years ago was not in the least forgotten nor tolerated. Thus, her dragon was barred from ever returning to the pit.
So whilst her mother got to bask in the ambit sunlight and freedom of the open air; Vyselyra was grounded to the gathering room of the ship. At every passing glance, Vyselyra noted her father's sunken eyes set in her direction. Lord Desmond hadn't taken kindly to what she perceived of the crowned princess. He was in quite despair over her relentless feuding—fearing of what the consequences would be.
But atlas that arguably would have to wait, as a last resort to calm the flame, Desmond made his daughter recite Valyrian phrases of Queen Visenya's conquest—this having always been one of her favored past times.
Well, after sword training that is. But she wasn't the only one whom took great pleasure in it, as did Jacaerys. Instead of going upon the Targaryen ship with his family, he preferred the peace of the Manderly ship; Jolly Salt.
It was in all facts as gorgeous as the history book's described or may-haps those such descriptions didn't do the Manderly ships enough justice. For in person, there wasn't a decent amount of words that could accurately convey the awe the prince felt. Atlas, such books Jacaerys found himself reading over and over in the wee hours of the night.
If he was to be king one day, Jacaerys wanted to know the workings of all his people and this even included learning their culture. Fashioned of light blue and green upon the walls, golden laced trim lined the ever corner. Large stained glass windows—depicting assortments of pale greens and blues.
Fashioned of the merman with his trademark trident upon his right hand. Each individual window, rectangular in shape, held a different story within them. Each opening the lively cabin to the unending sea.
Unlike the Targaryen ship that held a golden dome, the Jolly Salt's holding hall was built into the back of the ship. Storm Dancer; the massive battle ship of house Manderly followed closely behind. That wasn't used for pleasure sailing but for combat.
Jacaerys found himself sitting across from the feisty Manderly of Targaryen blood, taking slight euphoria in watching her prideful smile—-the left side favoring a small dimple upon her cheek. At every phrase mentioned, the eldest Velaryon held at the ready to pounce in, his leg bouncing slightly beneath the table.
"Queen Visenya made peace with the Arryns." Her tongue curled prominently upon the vowels fixed of only the High Valyrian language— before reclining smugly into her chair. Sitting at another table lay Lord Desmond; only nodding his head in agreement as did Ser Medrick—acting as if both knew a lick of what was fore-mentioned. To them, Valyrian was sounded as if someone held a mouthful of rocks and sand.
The maester, fixed with a receding hairline, meekly smiled at the young princess—graciously commenting on how well she did. Jacaerys merely agreed with his teacher; eyes dull with bewilderment at how fast she was. "Time to show off those skills now." She remarked, insolence riding upon her words. The princess's right hand then rested upon the table—impatience filled with a suppressed urge to tap her fingers at the hardened surface.
Jacaerys swallowed harshly, mouth having gone dry. He had been so ready before but now, all the times he practiced, it was high upon in the heavens where not a soul could hear him. "Interesting." A flicker of a smile, and a gaze that never wavered. "Come on Jace, I thought you had been training."
Jacaerys jutted his bottom lip out, redirecting the air-flow to his long bangs. "Princess, that is enough." The maester's pinch elevated before slowly filtering off—sliding her a glaring side eye.
Noting his tone, Vyselyra merely chuckled—biting at her lower lip before casting her sight elsewhere. "Now we shall end this fight once and for all." The maester spoke halfhearted; a man two times their senior. He uttered under his breath, making sentence in the regular language before ending with a crispness.
Jacaerys smirked, knowing well of her game—was first to speak in Valyrian, never allowing Vyselyra to get a her own in. A bright and supportive smile formed upon the older maester at his student's progress. Amidst the duo, Vyselyra cleared her throated harshly, gaining their attention at once.
A fierce glint fired within her eyes, biting at one side of her lips—she leaned forward, " That's an easy sentence." she spat, before leaning back. As if her presence became more upheaved at him gaining the attention. Jacaerys raised a slight brow, a small grin following in suit, " Still just as competitive as always."
" No, one whom particularly acts as if the world owes her."
A tone riddled with annoyance escaped from behind the young princess. The second born son of Lord Manderly; Torrhen. The young lad had been found at the Lazy eel of all places. His grubby hands upholding his drink, leaning half hazardously over the table.
Medrick was in charge of finding their brother. So to have quite the laugh, he ordered that Torrhen be dragged with both arms by the Manderly guards. The youngest Manderly boy did nothing but groan and mumble as his feet scraped limply against the hardened stone—out to ship before it disembarked.
In the subtle darkness of the gathering room beneath the Manderly ship, Torrhen was under the ever- so-watchful eye of Ser Medrick and Lord Desmond. The table that held Vyselyra and her companions did not sit too far from drunken lad.
A cold rag placed carelessly across his eyes and forehead. Torrhen laid outstretched upon a chasm of chairs incoherently place together to form a semi line. His arms lay lazily across his chest, hands tightened lightly into fists.
Torrhen would groan or mumble every so often, at least alerting to everybody below decks that he was still alive. So it was presumed it would have to take a lot more than alcohol poisoning to take him down.
Vyselyra merely fixed an irritated glare at her half brother's arrogant tone. But with her father in close proximity, the silver haired princess Focused her attention back towards the maester once more. But before the next lesson could be uttered, a call of land rang out from above.
Without hesitation, Vyselyra arose from her chair and eagerly hurried up the stairs to the deck—abruptly ending the lessons. The maester glanced over at the lord Manderly for assistance, but he merely shrugged. There was not much that could have stopped her in that very moment. Desmond then turned his attention toward Jacaerys, a subtle nod told him all.
As she slowly brushed passed the sailers and the dozens of worn ropes holding the mighty masses up, a form slowly appeared out from the mist. Vyselyra raised her eyes toward the denim horizon—dawning upon the great structure of stone that sat high above the crashing of tides. A castle of golden rock rising in salute to every sun of every season. Kingslanding...
Vyselyra gleefully leaned her lower body up against the ships wall, trying in for a closer see. Using the supports to prop herself up— one's that held the merman made of silver at the head of the ship.
The ocean breeze swirled and ambient - lifting parts of her silver hair into a dance. The tousled updrafts felt as if they were inviting her along— pulling her in from the depths.
As they drew closer, her stomach began to churned—one that carried a certain pity. It had been years since the last interaction with her other cousins. And it was less than favorable. It was at Driftmark upon that fateful night where lives would be changed in a way others never imagined. Aemond losing an eye and the dear Vyselyra breaking an arm.
But even with this minor inconvenience, everyone of whom she hated and loved were all there together. Frankly, it was not like the end result was any better though, it ended with terrible resolution.
As the strands of silver at their confluence of tether and vortex, a sense of calmness branched across Vyselyra's body. With her line of sight fixed about the golden city, a gravelly tone broke from behind her, "Princess, there you are." Vyselyra merely passed a subtle glance over her shoulder to the older man.
" Are you ready to see Ben and Lyana?" The valiant Commander of Storm Dancer asked, of which she smiled openly in repetition. " I could ask the same of you." It had been years since she'd seen the both of them—ever since she left Kingslanding after the birth of Joffrey. Both were dear friends that had been left behind in the seek for adventure; Ben went for training to be a kings guard and Lyana as a scholar.
After what felt like eternity at sea, the wait and boredom was over—with the ships finally docked. It was only mere seconds after the ramp lowered before Vyselyra brushed pass her father. She gracefully lifted her dress as she dashed across the sand like she were 6 all over again. However, her father was not content with this. " Vyselyra please." He pleaded, but it fall upon deaf ears...
|| VSYSELRYA THOUGHT SHE WOULD BE THRILLED TO ONCE MORE STEP FOOT IN KINGSLANDING. The place that many of her kin had ruled over and lived for ages—including her grandmother Viserra Targaryen. Though she did not know much about her nor her about her own mother Naemera. Most of their history was kept in secret—the most she knew is her name was a combination of those that came before her.
To stroll once more in the very courtyards her ancestors once walked. Yet, she felt nothing of the sort. The whole way by sea, her stomach twisted in turmoil whilst her brain fought endless battles with itself. The words of Arthur snaked their way across her thoughts that had brought relief.
Then again, the swaying of the Manderly ship did not heed in her dilemma. Nor did arriving on land help but further her anguish. And Jace with his maester try as he may to comfort her—both teaching Valyrian --could not shake the feeling of dread.
The carriage tumbled beneath her with every bump in the gravel road. It only made her stomach curdled even more. Anxiety gripped her body whole like a snake does its prey. Vyselrya sat with her left side leaned against the wall—her hands clenched so tightly together; the whites of her knuckles showed.
Eyes fixated upon the large castle of gold stone through the little crosses etched in the cart wall. It grew in size as they were closing in on the final stretch.
Rhaenyra exhaled heavily as she readjusted herself upon the rather Uncomfy seat. She demanded that Vyselyra and her mother ride along with her— and she did not take no as an option. Naemera had dismounted Azurine, leaving her dragon at the pit before meeting them at the dock.
To Lucerys dismay, Rhaenyra had permitted him from riding along with them. Yet neither had talked to one another since entering the carriage, Vyselyra bid well to cast her sight away from the crowned princess—much to Naemera's discretion.
Vyselrya settled herself in once more—her mind now danced around the many people that invaded her thoughts often. She thought of home, and her brothers and her mother, of her pup Meraxes-- wondering how they were all fairing. She missed New Castle upon the sea — surely now more than ever. It felt as if they only had just left.
But even those did not last as came the ones of Aegon and Aemond once more. Even when they were younger, she barely got along with the brothers. Jace merely got by with Aegon.
However, with that being said, Vyselrya and Aemond had more than one conversation on occasion— especially since the incident at the dragon pit. To her and the dismay of Rhaenrya and Naemera, Aemond had always taken to her— but after he gained Vhager and of course not to mention lose his eye, he became more persistent.
More persistent in claiming yet another living creature: her. So now with Arthur mentioning those very words, she can alone imagine what Aemond or her mother had it in. Of course, after the fight that broke out on Driftmark, her family having barred her from ever seeing them again for a while—-she did pondered about how Aemond might react upon seeing her presence once more. And if he would continue his pursuit.
Vyselrya exhausted rather contempt, barring her sight from Rhaenrya— wanting to perhaps scoop her brain out to hide from its evil antics. She pressed on, still looking upon the castle—trying to find a light to end this darkness. But her train of thought were interrupted when baby Aegon cooed, his tiny hands grasping for her silver locks. Perhaps he saw another version of his mother in her.
And the light of which she craved—came. The little prince carried a bright smile, one that had not yet been touched by a cruel world. As he continued grasping for her, Vyselyra slowly placed her hand in her pocket, knowing she held something he would enjoy. Her hand having made contact with the dragon Jacaerys made.
But Vyselyra did hesitated upon taking it out—taking note once more of its elaborate form. Remembering how calmly Jacaerys spoke, the way his face lite up—he was just as sweet if not more than he already was before. But she shock such memories of him away; not after what Rhaenrya did.
As she twirled the dragon around in her hand, a faint smile made across her lips. The slits in the walls gave enough light to cascade across the object that lay in palm—which Rhaenyra noticed. "What is it?" She acquired. Vyselyra sheepishly smiled as she glanced upon her hand, " A dragon."
Rhaenyra nodded upon her answer, "Of whom did you acquire it from?" She arched a brow ever so faintly. Vyselyra glanced upon her—the whites of her eyes telling Rhaenyra wanted she needed. "Ah Jace..." she remarked, merely rolling her eyes while a smile lined her lips. She placed her hands together over her belly, " It seems he cares a great deal about you." Of which Naemera casted a hardened glare upon her daughter. One that could bore holes right through her if it was possible.
Taking note of Naemera's distress, small laugh escaped Rhaenyra's lips; causing the already tense Vyselyra to immediately cast her sight away, " It's quite alright dear..." she whispered faintly before Naemera was harsh to change the subject, " So Excited are we to see kingslanding?"
But Vyselyra merely scoffed at the very thought, " No." she retorted, eyes glued to the castle. Rhaenyra hummed beneath her breath upon hearing her answer—it seemed that the realms delight took no delight in her realm at the moment.
" Well, there is no need for me to have it as I have a dragon." She looks to the prince, who's violet eyes pleaded open-heartily upon hers, " Here you go." Vyselyra spoke before making quiet noises with figurine—mimicking that of a dragon's roar.
Aegon's stubby hands flailed around; like he's being jangled by invisible strings from above, but only his puppeteer is drunk. The boy tries hard to maintain his balance. Gleefully squealed upon acquiring it from Vyselyra. The maid smiled along with her, holding Aegon as he fussed over it.
The occupants sat in silence with only the carriage rattling beneath them, the reigns of the horses buckling against another—which held some sort of conversation at least. "If you are worried about what Arthur said, then you needn't be. You know I will not allow it." Rhaenyra suddenly spoke.
Even with her mentioning it and Jace, it still did not heed to ease her mind. Vyselyra lowered her sight to the floor—her face twisting with disdain. " Forgive me, but I do not think you can Princess Rhaenyra as neither can my father, my mother. If it's a decision to be made by the very vipers that clang to your throne, then no one has any say." She ended, screwing her face into a grimace that reminded Rhaenyra of the lady's pug.
Rhaenyra swallowed hard, knowing the truth of it. Her lids beating vastly upon her eyes—fighting the urge of tears. She too glanced upon the place that was her home for so long before her sight slowly retraced back to Vyselrya. The young princess exhaled loudly, feeling Rhaenyra still holding her gaze upon her.
" I want to be the savior of the people, a warrior of great strength—-not a wife stuck to land I do not know. But so is the whelms of a woman. I am not a man so I have no say..." she paused, taking her sight away from the window towards Rhaenyra, " It seems the gods have not been in my favor."
" Don't fret my child." Naemera counters, furrowing her brows, " You have a much better life than most." She swiftly spoke, placing a hand upon her daughter pale hand, " As for the warrior part, you may be a warrior one day but first, a marriage and a mother it seems. It is unfortunately our doom, us noble women. But you must learn to calm the fire that burns deep within and not let yourself give into it." Rhaenrya remarks, her features softening upon rubbing her belly. A child nor a marriage was the last thing on Vyselyra's mind, she did not want it even if Rhaenyra spoke of it gracefully.
The princess merely huffed rather loudly at the matter, she wasn't about to take knowledge of marriage from a woman whom had affairs. Nor one who felt very little sympathy for Laenor. " You and I are more alike than you think." Rhae remarked, with Vyselyra rising her sight to meet hers. Her eyes carried a barely contained anger within— but only in time would she figure it out.
Vyselyra do not move to speak, instead her jaw tightened as her sight flied away towards window. The light slowly disappeared from their faces for moment as they traveled beneath the large entrance—large metal doors sat agap, decorated with jarring teeth. Flags of black and red dragons danced along with the wind.
Noticing the slight shift of the girl's demeanor, Rhaenyra swallowed hard, " You must face the charge with sword in hand, do not fear of what may come. But be glad you put up a fight no matter the circumstances." She softy spoke as the carriage came to a halting stop. But frankly, Vyselyra wasn't up to another lecture.
As Rhae slowly got up to meet the guards that awaited them outside, she gently grasped at Vyselrya's wrist, quite confusing the princess. " You are a dragon by heart and by blood. They've grown beneath the soil, and we grow above the clouds..."
Frankly, before the white Harbour's divine could even acknowledge what was said, Rhae slowly released her grip —turning towards the door as the voice of a man outside began speaking.
A man stood quite Proudly, announcing all of their triumphant arrival and of their earned titles, " All hail princess Rhaenyra of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron throne..." he paused for a mere moment before continuing, " and with her, the princess of House Targaryen, Naemera and her daughter, princess Vyselyra of White Harbor." His voice carried through the small, enclosed yard; with guards remained posted at the sides.
Rhaenyra exhaled heavily and promptly made her exit out of the carriage—wearily. As Vyselyra too slowly moved to follow behind the crowned princess, those very words uttered from her mouth buzzed in her mind like bees on a summer's day. She knew whatever was ahead was going be a great challenge—not practically easy. Aegon the conqueror had a many great challenges and so did his sister wives. If they could stomp through with heads held high, then so could she. Of course, there would be tears, but it was her adventure to grasp—so she held her head high.
Vyselyra would not let these lords, nor the Queen decide her fate. The ideas to prove herself would come, probably when she least expected it. So, she inhaled as deep as her lungs would allow, closing her eyes a mere moment before taking the step. The stairs moaned beneath her feet as she gently stepped down upon them.
As she stepped upon the last, the princess of the Harbour clenched her dress of red and green upon her right hand whilst trying to steady herself with her left. Upon noticing her trying to secure her footing, Jacaerys promptly left both Lucerys and Rhaena's side—- much to both of their chagrin.
" Let me help you down." Jacaerys spoke modulated —offering his palm to carefully help the princess. As much as she deemed herself one who did not need such help, quite disgruntled, found it quite hard to say no. So vyselyra merely accepted the offer with a huff—hesitantly taking his hand upon hers. He gently led her down to the gravel before letting go—which the princess followed with a shy smile. Jacaerys then gracefully offered to help Naemera; of whom reluctantly accepted his offer. Her face twisting in grimace as her feet finally touched the ground, snapping her hand quickly back to her side.
Like Rhaenyra, Vyselrya slowly twirled in the center of the courtyard—-taking in the rather gloomy sight before her. Not much of a crowd, not like how the people of White Harbor would gather—chanting exciting to see them return, Everywhere she glanced, Targaryen flags laid claim to just about every corner. There was a sort meekness to the atmosphere. Most made bystanders were men of the guard, rather boring with their typical, unmoving, stance—presumably awaiting to guide them into the castle.
Vyselyra stood beside Jacaerys as both took the sights together—before her sight wondered elsewhere. A guard slowly appeared into view with a lady skipping beside him. Squinting her sight, Vyselyra slowly adjusted them into focus. It had been years since last seeing them as kids, but some features were still prominent.
"Lyana?" Vyselyra shouted quite enthusiastic, a smile fixing. The woman fashioned of brunette hair and a blue gown, gleefully squealed—before sprinting towards the silver haired princess with welcoming arms. Lyana collided into Vyselyra with a subtle thud cracking through the yard. Both friends squeezed another until both of their cheeks turned red.
"Come on now. What about me?" A man's voice boasted from behind Lyana. Vyselyra's sight slowly fixated upon a guard fashioned of pale gold and silver armor. A stricking blade laid attached to his side. As Lyana released her grasp from the princess, her gaze shifting to the Manderly boys disembarking from the carriage.
"Ben?" She questions with slight exaggeration riding upon her tone. A bright smile crackles over his tanned lips. It had been years, and the boy she once knew was grown man of the guard. "look at you!" Vyselyra exclaimed, joyfully welcoming him into a strong hug.
As she stood back from him, admiring his presence once more; there Vyselyra gazed into his emerald eyes—one's now that could lure any unexpecting lady of the courts. From his chiseled features still comes a intensity, an honesty, and gentleness. Just like his youth, not one of weakness or trite politeness, but still of his great spirit and noble ways.
Upon noting Vyselyra and Ben reminiscing over old times, Jacaerys began grinding his teeth against another. He clenched his fists, his chest becoming slightly upheaved. Was his cheeks blaring red? Was his eyes stuck upon the duo unbeknownst to others? His inner voice was consuming every ounce of his body, feeling as though his whole body would shake from the fire inside.
But when the white Harbor's divine glanced over towards his direction, Jacaerys overcompensated with a nonchalant gaze and a weak smile. Of course the blush that accompanied it was a dead give-away.
Hearing a grunt, She gazed upon her father as he staggered out from the last carriage. Manderly guards fashioned of green and blue armor stood to his sides. In his hand, he held a white rag to which he planted upon his lips when he coughed—before discreetly tucking it away.
Upon noticing the frail Lord, Naemera's features twisted into one of grimace. She quickly gathered the hems of her dress into both hands before racing to her husbands aid. There she took over the position of addressing his current ailment.
Vyselyra's breath halted upon her throat seeing him struggle to walk without seeming to hack up whatever laid within. Her father took notice of her watching and thus meant her with a weak, half smile. Bee mother didn't bother to meet her daughter's worrying eyes.
The pit within her heart sunk even more to endless depths upon seeing her father like this—of which Jacaerys seemed to noticed as he gazed upon her face. And not only he did for Ben did as well.
So, to help calm her nerves, both men began making their way to Lord Manderly. "Lord Manderly." Jacaerys was first to speak in his calming demeanor, approaching as the lord stood heaving ever so slightly. " Let me help." The lord moved to dismiss him with the flick of his hand, but Jace was not allowing that, " You need not fret. You coming here to help my family is more than we could ever repay." Lord Manderly then stared upon the boy of brown locks and honey colored eyes to match—his daughter was already plastered at the prince's side. Her silver hair dancing to the cues of the wind.
There, as he gazed about them with their shadows cascaded aross his face—the sunlight at their backs, he saw a future—one that would bring great furtune to his family. Ben took his position to the left of him where Vyselyra slowly stepped in—reaching for her father's hand. She was unnerved by his sweaty palms and the way his skin felt clammy.
The trio then slowly helped him regain his composure—with Jacaerys and Ben placing his arms around their heads upon their shoulders. With a final look at one another, with Jacaerys regrettably now not wanting to even look Ben in the eye, sneered a quick raise of the lips. Ben was quite intrigued by Jacaerys's sudden demeanor but atlas, it would have to wait as both started for the grant doors.
As they steadily approached the doors to the entrance--Vyselrya knew everyone was on edge. They were here on important business—the very fate of a kingdom. The horses impatiently pawed at the gravel, gnawing away at the bit as they twisted their ears back in forth—listening. Their groans of annoyance however, feel upon deaf ears as both Vyselyra and Jacaerys walked blatantly by.
The doors suddenly opened, jarring the princess. Out came a man of whom Vyselrya had never laid eyes on before—-where panic laced his voice." Princess." he spoke, before leading them in. Vyselyra however, was held back by her father who leaned over in discomfort. "Father." She questioned rather uneased— placing her hand against her chest. He did nothing but try to wave her off, but she was not leaving.
That was until Isen and Almond came to the rescue, grabbing Lord Manderly from Ben and Jace—-placing the lord's arm upon their shoulders. " I'll see to it that he is well taken care of before the council begins.' Isen spoke, assuring the princess as she gazed upon him in unease.
Vyselrya watched aimlessly as both Isen and Almond struggled up the stairs with the lord—his sword clanging against his legs did not heed in helping. Even with his mother and Daemon gone, Jace stayed behind for her.
As Vyselrya stood there, Jacaerys placed his hand upon her shoulder, " He'll be okay. I know it." he tried once again to play in reassuring her. Even Ben expressed a slight nod of approval. She exhaled deeply—-casting a glance to the young prince. " I worry if he is Ill like this, then he won't be able to join the court. and that would mean..." She spoke, but Jacaerys merely disagreed, " Come on, let us rejoice in our old adventures, shall we?' He remarked with sly smile.
"That sounds like a wonderful idea." Ben added much to Jacaerys displeasure. Even as fear gripped her whole, perhaps reminiscing in the old courtyards she walked as a child may ease her.
Vyselyra slowly walked along with Jacaerys at one side and Ben at the other—whereas Lucerys held up the rear. Her features did soften upon being in Ben's whole presence once more—as he began to speak, their talk littered with smiles. It showed a worrisome Jacaerys that a spark may lay there, one unspoken, forbidden. But to Lucerys, he viewed it quite differently. It was as obvious as the morning sun, as real as the grass—that the spark lay with Jacaerys and Vyselyra. It was all game to her now, to reel in the kill.
A many of guards and nobles that passed slightly bowed before her. Vyselyra in her new found strength, smiled rather smugly as she pressed on with the boys. A Targaryen dragon of red and white was embroidered into the fabric upon her dress— as if that wasn't plainly stating enough of whom was wearing it. Rhaenyra found this was more fitting than what she had been wearing. Though she much have rather her other dress to have represented her father's house.
Vyselyra along with the brothers moseyed through the long rows of hallways that led to lord knows what. But as they rounded the corner rather quickly, she found herself walking into a part she was more familiar with. The small section of open space where onlookers could watch as men and boys alike, trained below. This was when she wasn't allowed to train in her much younger years—forced to look on with the rest. But now, grown, this was her chance to perhaps prove she was more than just a woman of high born.
She passed the trio a smirk before lifting her dress slightly up, taking off towards the stairs. Vyselyra slowly made her way down, but as she looked upon the onlookers below, her heart fell. Immediately the young Targaryen halted in her tracks causing Lucerys to bluntly run into her back—his sight having been focused elsewhere. There within the crowd stood Aemond challenging Criston. It felt as if her legs and brain no longer connected—kept frozen. But as she stood unmoved, her face dormant of any expression—a voice called from her left.
" It seems smaller than I remember." Lucerys exclaimed— his voice seeming to break the ice that held her in place. As Lucerys walked ahead, Vyselyra still held behind with Jacaerys—her sight lingered from Aemond to him." Oh, come on." Jace said, before grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her towards the middle of yard.
As they approached the table filled with all sorts of weapons, many of the lords and ladies casted the Velaryon brothers a look of disgust; with both merely shrugging it off. Jacaerys stood beside the table where Luke took it upon himself to playfully elbow him in the side. The older brother merely ignored him, with his sight on the weapons. Luke noticed the nobles staring at them and whispering amongst themselves. That smile slowly died away—unease plastering itself across his face.
Jacaerys noticed his brother's unease rather quickly, " What's your problem?" He asked, fumbling swords around. " Everyone is staring at us." He blankly replied, but Vyselyra did not heed in hearing it. " No one would question me being heir to Driftmark if I looked more like Ser Leanor Velaryon than Sir Harwin Strong."
His brother tossed the sword down, but it was Vyselyra who got the first shot, " Luke, you listen to too much of what they have to say. You would have more fun in this world If you did not." She ended rather content. Luke refused to drop the subject and leaned in closer, " you know this as well as we do. For people whisper the same thing of you and your father and of your mother. They say your grandmother had gone crazy and that lady Naemera is full Targaryen. That Lord Manderly may not be of your blood—-." Jace immediately held his hand to cover his brothers mouth— with Vyselyra glaring upon the youngest boy.
Disgruntled, she slammed her hand against the hilt of a sword, " No, you shall not whisper such a thing. I am the daughter of Lord Manderly." She proclaimed rather loudly—her eyes of hazel turned a dark amber-- reminiscent of fire upon coals. Vyselyra waited a moment more before casted her sight to the sword she slammed her palm against.
She twirled and twisted it around her hand—-eyeing Lucerys as she did. It had a smooth hilt and the blade was sharp. But before she could plan to do anything, she felt someone's hand against hers, "No, I will not have this. You could get hurt." Jacaerys quickly dismounted the sword from Vyselyra's grip.
She merely rolled her eyes, undeterred by his comment--before quickly snatching the sword back, " Oh please. As if, I have been training practically since I could stand." Jacaerys steps back towards the table--as he too selects one he had been eyeing before.
"Sword fighting in a dress is a new one." He remarks rather jokingly—-readjusting the grip upon his sword. Vyselrya held hers high above her left shoulder—-awaiting for Jace to make his move. Then the dance began as he rushed forth but Vyselyra was much smaller and agile— dodging his thrust even in the tight garmit. He immediately twirled around—shock flooded within his eyes.
" Oh now, someone's been training since I last saw them.
Where did you learn ?" He acquires, coming slightly closer. She merely raises a brow, " By my fathers men." She says, knowing full well he's trying to throw her off.
Without any warning, Jacaerys tries for a second time but this time her sword intercepts his. As he tries to counter dodge by wrenching his hand the other way—-the two meet face to face. Swords clashed into an X—-mere inches away from another. For just that moment, their eyes locked upon another—their faces closer. A feeling of a thousand fires flooded the entirety of his body.
But as Jacaerys slowly drifted, letting his guard down in that moment, Vyselyra seizes it. Withdrawing her sword away— before swiftly using her foot to dismount his footing upon the dirt. There the prince tumbles down with a subtle thud. With the wind quite literally knocked out of him, she aims her sword directly at him. with Jace narrowing his eyes, " Okay, yet again you have caught me." He says before dropping his arms to his side in defeat.
Ben cheered her on, a loud smile tugged at his lips. But as the young Velaryon prince stepped over—the smile slowly faded, " Jace, if mom founds out this..''
" Do not worry nephew." A voice comes from behind them— followed by a slow, steady clap. Caught off guard by the sudden voice, Vyselyra lowers her sword as there from the small crowd emerges the one eyed prince—Aemond.
"I say, a good fighter she is." He smugly remarks—eying Jacaerys as he walked over to her side. " Even in a dress." He then glanced her up and down, as Vyselyra, against her best wishes, simply accepted his admiring compliment. Remembering all too well of what had befallen before. But as Aemond stood there, she took note that Jacaerys was not having it one bit for distain made itself at home upon his features....
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I AM SO SORRY FOR
NOT UPDATING EARLIER!!!!
Please forgive me lol 😭
Anyways, some beef between Jace and Ben 🤪
* Jacaerys with his sees Ben and Vyselyra interacting*
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