𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏
𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆
118 𝐀.𝐂.
𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐀 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐃
“Destiny”
𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐙𝐄,
smelling of rich oils drenched in the lingering scents of Orange blossoms and rose water, the heavenly perfumes danced alluring in the humid summer air. Poured forth from delicate amber vials, lathered and coaxed into dampened curls of vivid ebony till such locks hung smooth and gleaming under the fading golden light of the sun, shining like that of ribbons of Dragon glass. Warm waters like the ocean’s peaceful currents, lapped at the copper edges of its confinement, pale petals floating amongst its milky waves like ships lost at sea only to find salvation on dewy skin marked by lifes constellations of freckles.
Balora Greywood sighed in blissful contentment as she was cleaned and polished away from the remnants of dragon that had clung to her. Smoke and ash rubbed away to reveal the golden skin that laid underneath, hair combed with fine Dornish oils that smelled of spices and warm amber flowers, by the skilled and practiced hands of her ladies maids. Till once more she resembled the high-born lady she had been born as rather than the wild hellion she had come appearing as from her ride earlier that day.
Cleaned, she was helped out of the growingly cooling waters of her bath and wrapped snugly in soft linens before being ushered by her ladies to be dressed for the feast that was to occur that night in honor of her family. From dark wooden trunks, she watched as one by one her ladies maids pulled from its contents rich and elegant dresses of delicate silks and lace in varying shades of lovely purple and glittering gold. Gazing at the vast selection presented before her, Balora with the quick help of maids, was dressed in her most cherished of gowns.
Made from pale lavender silk, the bodice of the dress was embroidered in delicate gold thread with the imagery of beautiful dragons and moons across its surface, long bell sleeves of gauzy material that shimmered wondrously under the fading light of the day, and wrapped at her waist was a ribbon of pale gold silk. When the final lace of her bodice was tugged and tightend, she was helped into her slippers which were also made of the same silk material and decorated with dragons.
Dressed, the only final detail to fret over was what was to be done about the mass of curls that danced teasingly around her face, something that Orsya was quick to dismiss the gaggle of maids and take over for herself. Her warm and familiar hands brushing and combing out the sweet smelling locks till they laid down her back in soft waves, then moving to braid parts of her hair into the beautiful and intricate Valyrian styles that Balora herself was utterly terrible at doing.
Weaving each of her dark locks with glittering gold and shimmering purple ribbons that shinned bewitchingly from the dark confines of her hair, pinning everything together with the touch a few final hair pins encrusted with Winter Isle sapphires, creating altogether an image that glowed not unlike that of the night sky in the firelight of her room.
“Beautiful.” Orsya’s voice was as soft as the velvet of her dress as she pressed a loving kiss to the crown of her head when she finished with the final braid.
When both sisters found themselves dressed, they made haste to meet their mother in her apartment, the room itself only few feet away from their own. Upon their arrival, the two sisters were greeted by the charming sight of their mother already awaiting for them, surrounded by her ladies, laughing and chattering amongst one another. When they drew close enough, all pleasant conversation halted as their mother moved to hold the two girls in her loving arms.
Balora cherished the burning heat of her mother’s embrace and the familiar smell of her jasmine perfume that clung to her golden skin, burrowing her head deeper into her bosom as to savor the moment longer. Distantly, she could feel the soft rumblings of her mother’s laughter at her childish gesture, her loving and soft hands reaching to pull her face away as to stare down upon her. Pride and motherly affection roaring from the endless depths of her amethyst eyes as they traced every fine feature of hers from the smattering of freckles that painted her golden face, the few defiant curls that escaped from the confines of the beautiful plaits crowning her head, and the heavenly violet hue of her eyes that glowed with fiery blood of the many dragon riders before her.
“Well look at you,” her mother cooed softly, “a little show off you were, definitely your father’s blood.”The young girl preened at her mother’s compliment, feeling her heart shine at the barest mention of her father. Something that had been rare and few since his untimely passing all those many years ago.
The loss of her father had left a bitter and festering wound on the soul of House Greywood, years having passed since his death had done little to heal any and all wounds his passing had left behind for them to survive from. No matter that he was gone and burned away in the customs of their Household, half his ashes buried long ago in the ancient catacombs of Dragons Hall and the other scattered to dusk winds to fly forever along the waves of the night sky with the gods of old and new by his side. Gone, his immortal memory haunted them all, but none so more than her own dear lady-mother; for if Ser Wiliam had been the sun and splendor itself, then with his death there was only unescapable darkness and desolation for the Lady Greywood. All color and light devoided, stolen right from her with the remorseless slash of a Triarchy soldier’s blade.
Some had whisper that the blade had stolen more from the admirable lady, that it too had taken with it her very heart and left it to bleed out on the sandy shores of the Stepping Stones. That had it not been for the very remnants of her beloved that lived on in the image of their daughters, then perhaps their very whispers could have been true, that all things golden and pleasing lingering in her very soul had died beside Ser Wiliam.
In her devotion and albit her own sorrow, color had not dared to breech the icey walls that surrounded her heart and body. No longer did she dare to wear the vibrant shade of Valyrian purple known to her house or decorate herself in trimmings of glittering gold, instead finding comfort in various of shades of black. And if there dared to be any color to paint her figure it only be that of the dull and frayed ribbon of pale lilac that was tied secular to the pale of her wrist, a ribbon that in span of Balora’s short life, she had never once seen her mother take off from her form.
“I see your sister and the ladies have done a wonderful job, though expected of them by now, in making you look even more beautiful than usual for tonight’s festivities.” her mother glanced over her appearance with an appreciative gleam and soft nod. “A true dragon of the North you are.”
Orsya laughed charmingly, “It was not without effort, you should have seen the state she was in before we began our work. A dragon handler would have dragged in less soot and not reek of dragon as much as she had-ow!” her laughter died in a sharp hiss when the deadly point of Balora’s small elbow dug deeply into the meat of her side. Violet eyes flashed hotly as they looked down to the meet the pouting and immature expression the young girl bore, only to explode in annoyance when she stuck her tounge out in childish defiance.
“Mother, did you see her? Little beast she has become!”
Balora feeling brave in her immaturity, kept at her little game of making faces at the expense of her sister’s tolerance despite the warning fires that burned like violet flames in the hue of her eyes. The young girl shouldn’t have been surprised when the last of her sister’s maturity withered like a flower to the hands of Winters embrace as she charged to retaliate, the small shriek that passed through her lips revealed otherwise. Quickly, the young girl rushed to her mother’s side, hiding behind the silk folds of her black dress and smiling smugly when her sister’s irate nature was stopped by the gentle but amused voice of their mother’s strong voice.
“Enough, the both of you.” her mother struggled to hold the laughter that bubbled in her chest from watching such amusing antics of the two girls, not that such amusements weren’t welcomed after the long and tiring journey they had endured. “We have obligations to fulfill and acting foolish will do nothing to accomplish them.”
Sheepish with the awareness of their own folly and embarrassment of their light reprimanding, Orsya and Balora, hummed in understanding to their mother’s words and moved to appear once more like the ladies of their station that they were instead of the childish welps they had acted only moments before. Graceful and composed like a flock of beautiful doves, the members of House Greywood prepared themselves as they walked in steadfast steps to the Great hall where half of the King’s court and royal household awaited for them.
The halls of the Red Keep echoed and groaned with the boisterous sounds of sweet music and rich laughter the closer their party drew to the gaping doors of the Great Hall. Golden warmth overflowing from the ajar doors of heavy oak, tantalizing and mesmerizing, it sung a sweet siren song to the innocents of Balora’s heart the closer she came near such sights, beaconing her to come closer; to dare steal a peek and gaze upon what lay behind the grand doors bearing the imagery of Dragon Lords and their mounts.
Excitement in all its electric glory, crawled a thrilling path from the edges of her soul and wormed its way to her into her heart the closer she came to those glowing, golden doors. A giddy smile grew upon her lips as before her those wondrous doors were pushed open and world unlike any other she had seen were unveiled. A world of opulent fabrics, heavenly music, and abundant gossip; it was bewitching for the young girl whose life before had been one of primordial frost and winter roses compared to this new and albit mesmorsing world that laid in front of her of blistering flames and golden flowers.
A thousand eyes stood in silent awe as all glorious music came to a sudden and completely halt at the incandescent sight of them, curious and enthralled eyes unwavering from how they watched the whole of her household come to stand over the threshold of worlds. Breaths trapped, impatient hearts all awaiting for the next move to be made on the chessboard.
“Lady Naerys Greywood of House Greywood! Protector of the Winter Isle and Mistress of Dragons Hall.”Bellowing with unquestionable strength and command, the guard stationed announced their arrival to the crowds below who watched on with their hungry gazes as they began their descent into the madness of it all. “Her daughters, the Lady Orsya Greywood-heir to to Dragons Hall and Lady Balora Greywood!”
Ushered by the warm hand of her sister, Balora followed after their mother as she like a watchtower in the darkness of night, led them across the harrowing sea of lords and ladies who flocked to them like awaiting sirens to lure them down, to gape and wonder at the sight of their violet haze and think to dare even a step closer into their fiery world. Ravenous eyes chasing after them like tides to the sandy shores, pulling and dissipating all within the blink of an eye. The room shook and the air reverberated with the thunderous echoes of their giddy and ravenous applause, gleaming smiles of predatory hunger that echoed promises of riches and glory, riddled at the edges with desire and envy.
‘Those of mortal blood always desire that of which they cannot have, weak creatures they are, born to die by their own foolish devotion to their insatiable greed, dear haedar.’
Balora had once though her sister’s words to be almost callous and cruel in their stinging aftermath, yet as the young girl walked amongst the den of snakes and heard their poisonous hisses, that there laid a lingering and unsavory truth to her cold brutal words.
“Dear friend!” seated upon a dias higher than those gathered below, wearing the golden crown of ancient dragon kings and formidable conquers, Viserys Targaryen smiled with unrestrained joy as milky eyes of violet watched their Household and her mother. “I and the rest of my house are honored to have you here.”
Pausing before the dias, Balora watched with wide and observant eyes as her mother dipped low and smoothly into a bow of respect before the decaying image of the King, those behind her following in her lead. Gently, Balora felt the warm hand of her sister as she pulled the girl down to her side, bowing in respect to the dying dragon and only standing straight once more when her mother was pulled up by the gray and sore ridden hand of the smiling king.
“Stand dear friend, there is no need for bowing, not with me.” his voice a tender whisper of friendly affection, causing a delicate smile to breech her mother’s lips and a soft glow to appear from within the soft amethyst hues of her eyes.
“You honor me and my house, your grace.” elegant and poised, her mother stood with the graces bestowed upon her from old Valyrian bloodlines before her. Glimmering and alluring in her obsidian silks and sapphire jewels, her mother was the glowing image of deadly beauty. A blooming bealladona amongst blood drenched roses and emerald serpents.
The kings laughter was hoarse to the ears but gentle, “Oh no, jorraelagon raqiros, I disagree entirely.” He spared her a mindful and affectionate look as he patted her hand softly. “It is you and your household that honor us with your presence in these halls, one that I hope we can experience much more in the future days to come.”
Over the realm of dark curls, bewitching Valyrian eyes, and delicate silks; weary and milky eyes caught sight of a beguiling and intriguing sight. The burning image of a girl who clung with sisterly love to the delicate lace of her sister’s dress, it was a most wholesome and remorseful of sights for the sickly king, remembering a time when once he and his beloved had though to create such a sight for themselves. To see the vast halls of his ancestors filled once more with the blood of the dragon. A genuine smile of friendliness etching at the seams of his dry cracked lips when small but wondrous doe eyes meet his own weary ones, causing a sudden rush of bashfulness and flustered emotions to rush through the young girl and cling closer to her giggling sisters side; a dry and painful laugh left his lips in a burst of air.
“Though before we sit and enjoy the festivities around us,” his gaze returning to the awaiting eyes of her mother, a playful expression on his deteriorating face. “I still believe that there is one member of your household that has yet to be introduced.”
“Of course, your grace,” her mother purred, a proud look washing over the delicate of her features as she stepped away to reveal where Balora and her sister had stood right behind her. Dark amethyst eyes finding her own elated ones, her golden and pale hand outstretched from the confines of her silk skirts and held out towards her. “Māzigon, byka mēre.” 'Come, little one.'
Shaky and unsure of herself, Balora no better than a newborn deer, walked towards the glimmering and loving hand of her mother; taking it without a second guess of what implications of what a simple action could mean in future days. Allowing the older woman to pull her up the steps of the dias as to stand proudly beside her, smiling all the encouringly as she did, till there she stood; open and freely for all the world to see.
“May I introduce my youngest daughter, Balora Greywood, your grace.”her words a croon of pride, of deeply rooted love as her beguiling eyes looked over the bashful younger girl.
The king hummed gently, milky eyes sparkling with a unmistakable glint of intrigue “So you are the rider that I and my house were privy to see earlier this day display such magnificent showman ship?”
A warm flush rose its way up the delicate path of her cheeks, a rosey pink maring the golden skin as it did and her heart thrummed a little faster under the gaze of the many around her. “Kessa, āoha dārōñe.” she answered softly, eyes trained on the golden brow of his crown and hand twisting and turning under the hidden protection of her pale purple skirts. 'Yes, your grace.'
Silvery brows rose high in pleasant surprise at hearing the soft and familiar liquidy tremble of his mother tongue, looking to Naerys slightly who only seemed proud of her daughters words. Bringing his gaze back to the small girl who stood nervously before him, he offered her a small smile and a gaze of intrigue.
“Ao ydragon Valyrīha?” he questioned softly to the small violet girl, words unconcealed in their amazement. 'You speak Valyrian?'
Nodding softly, the young girl could do nothing to hide the small spark of pride that began to shin through the nervous clouds in her eyes as she spoke each word of High Valyrian with an eased fluency. “Kessa, āoha dārōñe. Iksan iā riña hen lentor Graevon se issa ñuha muña's ēngos.” 'I am a child of House Graevon and it is my mother's tongue.'
A jovial and raspy laugh left his broken lips and a warm glow washed over his decaying spirit, “Extraordinary, truly. How proud you must be Naerys, to have not one but two daughters of remarkable character.”
Glowing and proud, her mother’s warm palm brushed loving against the crown of her head, brushing lightly away the few dusting of curls that dared to escape from the confinements of her complex braids and glimmering ribbons of silk. “Blessed I am indeed, your grace, that the Fourteen would see fit to bestow upon me with such gifts for children.”
Smiling with promising merriment, the King gave a sharp clap of his hands and offering his weakened arm said, “Now that introductions have been given, shall we to the entertainments that await! Come let the fesitives begin!”
Following after her mother and the King, Balora walked further towards the dias where the royal family and small concile members sat, with her sister by her side. Giddy, Balora took in all of whom made up the House of the Dragon with wide and curious eyes the closer she and her family drew to the table.
From the obsidian and crimson drenched figure of the Crown Princess Rhaenyra who sat gracefully in her bejewled silks to the right of the Kings chair with that of the rest of her house, with her lord-husband Prince Laenor sat bemused by her side in his tunics of seafoam and ocean-blues like some sea god come to life, by his side were their two sons, the princes Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon.
The princes like their mother, were dressed boldly in matching dublets of inky black and ruby that held patterns of dragons, but Balora noticed that unlike their mother or their father, neither boy held the same traditional Valyrian looks that they did. Twining heads of rich brown curls were the crowns the princes wore proudly and uncaringly upon their brows and were complemented by the warm kind eyes of earthy brown that looked up to watch that of her and her household in curious wonderment as they came to sit down at the long table.
Sitting next to the Princess and her family, who only offered nothing but pleasant and warm smiles, Balora was quick to return in full with a glowing smile of her own. The young girl giggled when she watched the eldest of the two Velaryon princes blush hotly from her gentle smile and turned bashfully away from her amused gaze as to save himself from anymore embarrassment he might suffer from not only himself but that of his chuckling brother.
Offering mercy, Balora instead drew her attention to the part of the table that sat across from her and her family. On the otherside of the table to the left of the King’s chair, sat the Queen and the rest of the Kings children born from her. One by one, just as the same with the Princess Rhaenyra’s household, each memeber of the Queen’s children were dressed in vivid and startling shades of green.
The Queen herself wearing the brightest of them all with a long and lace covered dress of emerald green, encrusted with green stones and golden thread work depicting the seven pointed star at the heart of her bodice, and the crown resting atop her russet curls was one that held nothing but shimmering emerald and jade stones in its golden frame work.
'A green flame.’ Balora thought softly to herself when looking at the older woman, how severe the color seemed compared to the familiar colors of her lord-husband and his ancestral house. How it burned like wildfire, uncontrollable and deadly to all who dare to cross its path.
Green bleed like a venomous line from the seat of the Hightower Queen, from next to her the second eldest child and first born son of the King, Prince Aegon, wore a silk doublet of mossy green and was trimmed in the same golden thread work as his mother’s dress. The green, Balora found, did very little to make the prince look any more regal as she watched him become lost into the golden cup he held or wipe away the small stains of Dornish red that marked his doublet and lips like blood. In silences beside him, hardly touching any food or drink, was the princess Helaena.
Pale and woeful she almost seemed in her dress of shimmering seafoam, the girl sat quiet with a cloudy haze of dissociation glossing over the pale lavender of her doe-like eyes. Small hands tracing unnoticable shapes into the wood of the table and lips trembling as they whispered inaudible words, lost to the warm air around them, only to ever be known to the girl.
Balora had heard briefly of the whispers of the second daughter of the king, how she was said to be utterly strange and unusual due to her fascination of insects and the baffling riddles that flowed freely from her mouth. Balora was hardly one to pay mind to rumors or cruel intentions behind them, instead finding she would rather trust her own impression and meeting of a person than that of second hand words from others.
Lastly, sitting almost as if he was in a world of his own, was the fourth child and second born son of the King, Prince Aemond Targaryen. A quiet and brooding boy he was, hidden almost by the shadows that danced across the room and the roaring presence of his own family, had it not been for the subtle shift of his head and the glint of silverly locks Balora might have never seen the boy at all. Hidden he was with the help of the dark green doublet he wore, it was a simple garment that lacked any of the embellishment or trimmings that those of his family members bore on their own garments.
Pale silvery locks like fractured moonlight bouncing off the ocean waves, was combed and pushed away to reveal a languished expression of disinterest that seemed too sever for boy his age, lilac eyes trained in a steady glare to those below who danced in merriment and talked in boisterous tones as they enjoyed the feastives around them. Though she could see that under the weight of his glare, there laid a hidden somberness ....a loneliness in their soft hues; it made her curiosity of the silent prince grow all the more the longer she stared at his brooding demeanor.
Under the heavy weight of her imploring eyes and persistent intrigue, the girl could have never prepared for the moment he sensed her eyes resting upon his being or them meeting her own in a locking of gazes.
Bitterblue and Valyrian violet, she had once thought his eyes to be the same shade of sweet lilac that was shared amongst that of his kin, only to find in mesmerizing surprise how streaks of the somber color bleed like that of an open wound and threaded itself onto the vibrant violet of his confounded gaze. Gentle but timid eyes, bashful from being caught, found purchase in the constellation of freckles that were scattered across the rounded plains of his face. Cheeks growing warm under her kind eyes, staining the pale silvery skin from underneath a warm pink. A moment, a singular and earnest moment stretched across what could have only ever truly been seconds, turned into what felt like infinity as from across a sea of stone and wood two eyes of Valyrian blood met in a chance of utter luck.
Two stars they were, born from the same burning molten cosmos that she had once heard from motherly words where all dragons had once originated from, destined in this very moment in time and fate to meet. Their ancient gods ushering them, guiding them as they once had for her ancestor from the doom of their people, to the infinity of this moment. For Balora, it the only way to explain how it seemed with one glance of doleful violet eyes that all felt so strange and lofty. How time had slipped away in a buttery haze of colorful fractured light and gentle but shy smiles, ruddy cheeks and timid glances. How for just that one earnest moment, her heart felt so different but still so very familiar to her soul.
If only the girl had known, known how cursed luck it was that such two soul should meet with the glimmerings of new beings and budding hope burning from their naive eyes. How the gods would weave such terrible fates for those star-crossed only for them to be burned across the edges in the end, how terrible of fate it truly was for the moon-bless maiden to cross the path of the wingless dragon. For it was only to end in flames and blood.
–Aᴜᴛʜᴏʀs Nᴏᴛᴇ–
AHHHHHH!!!!! MY SWEET SUMMER CHILDREN HAVE SEEN ONE ANOTHER!
Hi guys!!!!! I am so sorry for not posting a new chapter in a while, I was dealing with a huge writers block when it came to Hollow Crown and not to mention I had oral surgery, but I am back!!!!!
I am so excited for you guys to see what I have planned for these little dragons and everyone else!!! I was also thinking of writing Orsya's story which would be set in the begining of The Dance of Dragons and House of The Dragon, and will span from her childhood to where we are in the present! If guys are interested just let me know!!
Also did I listen to Taylor Swift's Enchanted and House Velaryon's theme song on repeat while writing this, yes, yes I did as both are extraordinary and amazing.
Who in House of the Dragon is your favorite character? Mine would either be Rhaenys, Baela and Rhaena, or Rhaenyra!
I also want to say thank you all for the votes and feedback, they mean a lot to me and I am glad that you guys have come to enjoy Balora and House Greywood!!!!
Please remember to read, comment, and vote; but most importantly just enjoy the story itself!
Stay safe and thank you.