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ii. HUMBLE PRINCESS , ARROGANT PRINCE
SEASON 1
EPISODE 6: THE PRINCESS AND THE QUEEN
— HOUSE OF THE DRAGON —

HEAVY IS THE CROWN

KINGSLANDING

124AC

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|| THE DRAGONS OF WHITE HARBOR HELD A CERTAIN AURA ABOUT THEM—a pride mirrored of grace as they appeared from the heavens. With the summer sun dancing across their hues— where warmth cascaded through their scales. It was a fortnight before they entered into the proximity of Kingslanding. Guards of the watch were pretty keen on alerting to the arrival of the two Targaryens upon dragon.

Naemera and Azurine were the first upon their sight— soaring in from the clouds like a hawk upon prey. Then like brilliant magic, her wings outstretched—revealing each as beautiful as stained glass. No matter how often the townsfolk of kingslanding saw the Targaryen's flying above, every would withhold their breath for a moment.

Seeing the beauty that was of Azurine—a dragon deemed rare by those below. She glistened in the sky like thousands of snow flakes had formed her being. Her color of pale blues were much like that of Dreamfrye: her mother.

There was a stillness to the air after Azurine and Naemera made their grand entrance—one that snakes into the ears of men and provokes not a single drop be heard. As for when one guard dared glance at the sun—a form vastly appeared from the center of it. Likened to darkened stains upon a white cloth—by the array of the flame behind.

As the men fashioned of Targaryen armor fumbled over themselves, almost preparing for another encounter —the commander, of whom had known the young princess quite well, steadied his uneased soldiers. His curls of red and brown hues, vibrant within the sun's highest journey across the sky— violently bouncing with every step his prideful horse took. Leader of the famed city watch, Harwin Strong.

Windermere had his wings tightly tucked beside the realm of his body—with it stout and calm as they barreled down towards the city. Vyselyra being the tormentor she was, took great thrill on scaring the new lads of the watch.

As they descended fast, Windermere growing size as he closed the distance vastly between —only then deemed she had scared them enough. Without missing a beat, Vyselyra leaned back into her saddle with all her strength, which in turn commanded the dragon to ease.

Windermere then extended his wings quickly—catching the wind upon the silk webbed between. His wings much like a bat, bone structures clearly visible through the thin layer of skin and jagged edges at the bottom. With a screech of fulfillment, his body of emerald then lifted for the sky once more— hardly above missing the men's heads. Each having to duck simultaneously at once.

Harwin's horse was quite frightened. His ears, nose, eyes pointed straight at the beast of concern; sniffing loudly, furrow his eyes gently. He dances restlessly in place; whites of his eyes upon his darkened coat are visible.

As she slowly faded, a smile cascaded across Ser Harwin's lips; in response to Vyselyra's little endeavor of scaring his men have to death. Looking back on it, was it the greatest idea to terrorize the men? Probably not, but as said before the young princess took a defiant joy in it and held no fear in authority.

With one subtle jab to the horse's side, Harwin takes directly in line after her. He was prompt in catching up in to the young princess—it had been their game ever since she could fly. For her dragon was still young, and had yet to gain the momentum of the larger ones.

As Vyselyra glanced back, taking notice of the valiant knight chasing after her. Half her lip curved into a sly smile—so it were like ole times, a race it was. Very much like the ones they had done before upon horse back— yet this time, she held the upper hand of having her dragon. The knight of House Strong had taken a quite a liking to the princess when he noticed how Jacaerys viewed her. She was curious minded yet proved strength.

Returning her sight forward, leaning in harder against the saddle, before reciting for Windermere to gain speed. With a small groan, the dragon complied—barreling down towards the city in quickening speed.

They soared over high standing buildings manufactured of different levels—scaling over the fragile roofs. With one having the shingles of orange knocked to the ground as Windermere flew over with his tail dragging behind.
However, where ever they passed over, Harwin was not far to be seen. Basked in shining armor and the typical yellow and black cloak fashioned upon her shoulder. Except, he jostled through crowds of unexpected inhabitants— each the giving the man a solid look of disbelief.

Gazing across the sky, it was then she realized not another dragon was upon the horizon—Azurine was no were to be seen. Only presuming her mother had already landed as both were no longer in the sky. Making the game ever more the thrill.

As Vyselyra rounded the corner pass the grand castle of Kingslanding—magnificent with gold trimmings and bricks laced throughout. But as she passed overhead the dragon pit., her eyes locked upon figure below—one the stood out from the rest. A boy of whom she had dearly missed—Jacaerys. Perhaps it were the way he stood that gave him away. The white harbors divine felt a glimmer of anxiety rush her body for the eldest Velaryon prince.

A boy who's hair fashioned different varieties brown of colors— circumstancely much like that of Ser Harwin Strong. Many had questions the boys birth but non dared to speak of it. After all, Rhaenyra was the heir and such nonsense deemed not to be spoken about. If those forbidden terms were uttered by a singe soul, it grounded for execution.

Beside Jacaerys stood a much younger and shorter boy whom presumed was, Lucerys. Not far off from her own age. And of course, a groan of displeasure escaped the grasps of her lips as she locked upon her brothers—Medrick and Torrhen. Both being quite the goofs; well youngest of the Manderly brothers wasn't thrilled with the oldest's pushing.

But her sight then diverted back to Ser Harwin, remembering there was a race going on—trying to sleek her way into victory. That's when Lucerys noticed her way up upon the sky. The poor boy, thinking she was lost began to wave her down towards the pit. Shouting upon the sky as if his words would ever reach her ears.

Which in turn, made Jacaerys quite flustered and wanting to stow his brother away on a cargo ship. The eldest tried to handled the situation by body checking his younger brother to the ground, but it was to no avail. Yet it was not all vain, for Vyselyra earned a good laugh.

Even Medrick was quick to join in, adding his own touch. It was only then watching as the Velaryon boys tussled
round with the Manderly boys below, that Vyselyra very much wanted in. After all, it was her calling to start the fights.

So with a slight nudge, Windermere slowly began their descent, swooping upon the small crowd of keepers—each watching their every move closely. Naemera was already on her way out of the pit when Windermere began to start his back flap—kicking the surrounding dirt up into storm.

Of course, with Luke being on the ground, got an unpleasant mouth full of dirt particles. Upon securing his landing, the he-dragon's feet decked with many talons tug deeply upon the softened ground—lingering with loudening thud.

His wings slowly one after the other fell upon the surface—yet again causing the ground beneath to shake. The corners of her lips crinkle at the satisfaction of knowing how well they shocked the landing without having the help of her mother nor of Laenor.

Jacaerys was quite frank on standing to his feet immediately upon being in her presence—quickly dusting dirt from his blue clothes. Vyselyra, seated upon her dragon still, only flickered a small smile—a bead of joy progressed through her chest at once. There was always something different about Jace and it quite intrigued the princess. And Jacaerys suffused with joy upon being in her presence again.

Yet it seemed Windermere and Harwin had other ideas to ruin such a beautiful moment. Arriving on horse back mere seconds after she had—his horse huffing and puffing from immense running—white foam drooled down from his bit to the sides. " Princess." He spoke, offering a gesture of gratitude—Of which she repaid with a slow drawn nod.

But Windermere, thought possibly progressively tired from the nights journey, showed no outward signs of fatigue. Grumbling in a low grunt—just enough for her feel it tremble through his body.

He turned his head from side to side, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings, nostrils flaring outward. Windermere never quite liked the dragon pit, often flailing himself in despair. But he was also known to just throw a fit because he simple could.

But reluctantly, against his wishes, he slowly began lowering his left wing. The young princess was quick about unleashing herself from the saddle, allowing her to gracefully disembark. Removing her riding gloves, she began to make strides toward the Velaryon and Manderly boys.

Atlas, she were not to speak to Jacaerys before the gloating Aegon made his presence well known. Aemond slowly following in suit. The poor boy had always held his head low— lower than most at his dear age. And dear Helaena held herself away in castle, far from the terrors of the world.

" Ah my dear cousin. I am so internally glad you have arrived." He spoke rather smugly, extending his arms out in a bowing gesture. Vyselyra merely rolled her eyes—disgusted with the boy's demeanor. Even Windermere was rather displeased, making it quite obvious as he dared not to stare in his direction. Shifting his attention elsewhere to Jacaerys—who seemed shared similar sentiments.

Aegon obviously not reading the room, then strolled over to her, fancying and twirling his hair round his finger. "How about we all join in the dragon pit once more? I'm sure you'd love to see what we have as a gift for my dear brother." He spoke rather condescending—eyes flickering to Aemond. Vyselyra scoffed, waving her hand at him in a dismissive gesture. " As if you would ever care to give your brother a gift." She remarks with disgruntled enthusiasm.

But of course, Aegon being the foolish prince he normally was, did not take her comments seriously—elbowing her slightly against the ribs.

And Windermere was not having that one bit, his screech grumbled beneath— though it was more of a squeal as his young age. His eyes fixed upon the boy of white hair. Behind these eyes of dragonish glare, a language carved before the age of ice. His fierce scarlet eyes sat tightly within the his thorny skull. Two smaller horns much like Azurine sit atop his head, still growing by the day and held a dullness to the end. Grouped just above rows and rows of much shorter ones. Several rows of thorns lined down the sides of each of his jaw—though as not as prominent as his mother's.

Several rows of sharp teeth poke out from his mouth upon opening flashing at Aegon, showing a glimpse of the terror hiding inside. The shining prince of smugness did nothing, only smirking upon the dragon's response.

" That is enough Windermere." A head dragon keeper suddenly spoke sharply and quickly—trying to prohibit the dragon from furthering his mission. But the youngling   refused his order, bending his head down toward the smaller stature, nostrils flaring with much movement as a gush of warm breath brushed against the keeper. Yet, never once did he budge— continuing to stand his ground firmly. Windermere was not a mighty or fairly big dragon, just measuring feet above a grown man.

Windermere then snarled, backed by a nasally gurgle—merely in stance to blast fire if commanded. It were true that once the dragon bonded with its rider, it would never listen to the commands of another again. She quite liked that thought, and in the mist of that man standing before her dragon, she felt a sort of pride. But that feeling she had was short-lived upon noticing her mother glaring from a distance. And it was not long before Harwin reacted by urging up a single cough.

Vyselyra was prompt about getting her dragon controlled in that moment for if she did not, she knew the consequences would be devastating. Sharp about snapping her fingers in the air, commanding in Valyrian from him to back off—which Windermere reluctantly listened. Allowing the man to breath freely once more.

Yet in that moment, Jacaerys noticed her unusual shift in behavior and how she responded, as if something had taken over her kindness in her heart. Of course, it were not the first time he had witnessed such a behavior come from her. But as he moved to inquire of what that little moment was, the notion was quickly dismissed upon her hugging him tightly. With that, how could he bring himself to ask such a think? Especially when she had just gotten there. Jacaerys could risk her just storming off and leaving back for home.

But amidst this, left a Lucerys quite puzzled as why he wasn't first to get a hug—after all he had deemed himself as her favorite. So being the youngster he was, started to force himself into the hug—juggling Jace from his thoughts as her warmth left his body. Once his sight focused, Lucerys was already clinging to Vyselyra for a tight hug which the girl happily gave.

THE GENTLE EMBRACE BETWEEN YOUNGEST COUSINS WAS MORE OR LESS INTERRUPTED BY A VOICE—one of whom lingered from the shadows. An expression of words sentenced one audible, hello dear little dove. Except the voice of warmth that dared escape the mouth deemed of a man, was not one she was soon to forget. Her spirts elevated as the words tunneled through her eardrums. They were only ever uttered from one person and that was of Ser Laenor. It had become her nickname since a wee baby.

The name had come to the prince upon a spring morning whilst visiting his childhood home of Driftmark. His eyes softly flickered to the birds that nested high upon ridges of the overhanging cliff. There he stood reminiscing of ole. Harboring with the news of a newly born girl from White Harbour. As the white doves flew without a care to the world. The nickname came by him quite honestly, little dove as when he finally set his eyes upon her, greatly reminded him of the small creatures; yet beautiful and intelligent—much as she was.

Without a second to waste, the princess turned hastily, eager to find the person of whom the voice had belonged. There out of the pit, the famed prince of Driftmark—the warrior of the step stones. Dressed in the finest of Velaryon clothes, hair of the palest white held high within a ponytail. He strolled over with a slight casual gait to his walk, hands tucked behind his back with a smile spread wide across his tanned lips.

Amber eyes held beneath light brows, had life brought upon them like a million fireflies upon a field at night—seeing the man of whom she held a great care for. At once,  removing herself from Lucerys rather forced embrace, bolting towards an already anticipating laenor. This was not the first he had dealt with the craziness that was the young Targaryen.

His eyes of a pale brown much like the tall trees across the narrow sea; darted freely across her slim face— it had been a year since Laenor had last saw her. With House Manderlys visits needed by the crown becoming less and less by the months. Since Alsyanne passed, House Manderly's importance to the crown drifted away much further like the ships sent to the sea. As fore-mentioned, the princess missed their training sessions and it seemed to be reciprocated well by him when he wasn't goofing around.

" I have missed you little dove!" He exclaims proudly before embracing her in a bear hug— her cheek pressing against the ridges of design embedded into the fabric of his chest. He then doted upon her a small ruffly to her hair. Of course, not trying to mess it up as her mother was quite close in proximity.

That in turn caused a rather frustrated Luke to bolt towards the duo, wanting to get his much desired attention—always having seen Vyselyra much as a sister. The boy was quite unpleased when he wasn't first to be embraced. Jacaerys was not far to follow—to be once more in her presence held a high enough profile that he disregarded what the eldest Targaryen would think. Aegon regarded the hugs for the youngest, boys of their age shalt take such pleasure in satisfying the demands of others needy hugs.

As all embraced in close for a moment desperately needed, Harwin's eyes wondered from them upon the youngest son of Viserys. A feeling of unease rushed through his body noticing how the boy studied the young princess. Eyes of blue fixated harshly upon the girl as she reminisced with old friends. Was it the look of jealousy that washed over his face? One where he was quite overlooked by the girl of whom he had grown fond about.

Upon hearing footsteps vastly approaching, the valiant knight turned a weary sight to the lovely lady Naemera Targaryen. The elegance of White Harbor. Graced to be in her presence once more, he bowed before her—knowing of the importance behind her visit. But much to her dismay, the news he carried was not a lick of what she wanted to rest upon her dainty ears.

" Well, as I much as I hate to say it, it happened already princess. Rhaenrya birthed a healthy prince just a fee wee hours before you lot got here." Harwin retorted, giving a fashioned apologetic look upon Princess Naemera.

Her mother's face had read it all clearly of what her mind readied before the lips could even begin—mentally cursing herself for not leaving earlier. Harwin, having dealt with Rhae and her antics, was quick to note the look of frustration upon her features. " Though i know Rhaenyra will be thrilled to see you princess Naemera." He quickly added—helping to ease of the feeling soaring through her body.

That was before Vyselyra butted her two cents in, " What about me? I want to see Rhaenrya." She pressed; rather undesirably against Naemera's darkened look. But Harwin was quite content with shutting the girl down. " You shall go to the pit with the boys. I'm sure.." he ends momentarily, placing a side glance over to the older dragon keeper before continuing, " They will be most pleased if you were too. You know, Show off your skills."

Now what that had meant to him and what it meant to her were going to be completely irrelevant to another. Showing off one's skill to her meant being the baddest and most important of the whole room. To steal thunder from those higher than herself—-whom she deemed as Aegon. The boy far too arrogant. And thus this little moment would perhaps have her bashed from entering the pit ever again.

" And what of the prince's name?" Naemera acquired with a simple hast, quite ignoring the aforementioned; her eyes of violet dancing across the war torn face of the knight. As the question hung upon the air, Vyselyra then was merely pushed over towards Jacaerys with the flick of her mother's wrist. Quite doubly unimpressed with the girls sudden outburst.

" His name is Joffrey M'lady. Named exclusively by Laenor." Harwin was quick to answer, casting a subtle nod towards the older Velaryon. Naemera merely smiled upon Laenor taking notice of his name, knowing well enough the result of why the name had been chosen.

" I hope you got to hold the boy." Naemera started with a hint of play riding upon her tone. Raising a slight brow followed closely by a half smirk. It was understandably obvious between the two that the eldest Targaryen was fairly quick witted. This took the guard of the city quite by surprise—with his face twisting in suspense.

Without a word more, she interlaced her hands as one in front of her body—casting a finally look upon the knight of house Strong. She then gracefully took her leave—with an awkward tone hovering the air; another of uncertainty. Harwin felt the slight change of unease wash over him, a fear unbeknownst of whether or not the princess would hush such rumors.

Vyselyra watched the duo closely, forehead crinkling and eyes squinting out of desperation—mentally noting to herself how great it would have been to actually hear what was discussed. Though Harwin's expressions changing rather rapid was more than enough of an indication it were not good.

As Harwin slowly followed in suit, Vyselyra quite frankly upset that she was being treated in such a manner, unfair in the matter she could not see Rhaenrya. Instead being hushed and forced into the dragon pit. So as a result, Vyselyra felt a bit of a necessity to live up to her reputation of being the instigator and troublemaker. That being the reason why many of the guards did not like having the duty of keeping a close watch on her.

The princess of white harbor deemed it best to start up her antics once entering the darkened, candle lite room. Walking within a short distance, Jacaerys took his designated spot beside her—Lucerys soon left her side to be partnered with Aegon.

But it was quite obvious to others that there was more than the eye would ever lead on; Just both would never dare mention it. Whereas Lucerys saw her as the sister he never had, Jacaerys on the other hand, had always seen her in a different way. With it starting from a young age of 5–trying his best to always be the center of her attention; to be there when she called. The boy of Velaryon descent would follow Vyselyra wherever her little heart desired—whatever she got into, he would do the same.

Hence why he would earn the name hound by Arthur, one of Lord Desmond's advisors. A man of a many years, one Vyselyra often shared mixed opinions about. Much to the advisor's dismay, Jacaerys did not heed the begrudged response of name calling. Instead, would continue on his mission.

The white harbor's divine studied the boy a year to hers for a moment more. Her eyes dancing across his rounded face set with darkened honey eyes. Cute as it was to Laenor who was watching from a distance—curiosity spreading vastly over his features. He, being the boys father had noticed along Harwin on many occasions how both acted towards another. And why he would be a advocate for the proposition put forward by Princess Rhaenrya to secure her allies.

But to Vyselyra, well the girl was forming quite the plan within that thick skull of hers. It was not soon before the intrusive thoughts had won. Using the bottom of her left elbow, bumped him quite hard against his upper arm—almost causing the boy to lose his balance.

Jacaerys flashed the princess a look of confusion for moment—with her raising a brow upon his eyes meeting hers. Then a sly smile slowly trickled across his lips—having caught on to her rather quick. He readied to take his shot. Using his elbow to give her quite the jab back—which she did not fancy in the least. It was not soon before it progressed rather quickly. With her temper and his determination to be the center of her world.

An already hesitant Laenor having enough to deal upon his plate was quick to intervene. "That is well enough you two." He uttered, prompt to correct her accordingly—mainly per her mothers request. Vyselyra of course being the testy child she were, merely casted her sight elsewhere. Folding her arms across her chest distastefully.

But as Laenor readied to discipline the girl on why controlling her temper was such a need, her eyes of hazel slowly flicked passed him over the prince Aemond. A boy of rounded features, pale with blue eyes and whiten, straight hair. Upon noticing her, he flashed a slight smile. It was often rare she would pay much attention to him. So when it happened, he always reciprocated it. But the feeling was short lived as Aegon rudely interrupted. Placing a rather heavy hand against his lean back.

The words that escaped the prince's mouth were less than satisfactory. Thus pushing Aemond's sight away from her and towards the entrance down into the darkened rocky pit. " We have found you a dragon." Aegon says, whilst fashioning his hair round his finger. Vyselyra found it quite amusing when he it did this, often teasing him on several occasions.

But the look that fancied upon Aemond rounded features spoke of being quite fed up with his brother's behavior—never once did it seem Aegon acted as if he cared. Nor in that matter cared for any of his family. As the brothers slumped over towards the pit, noticing the youngest Velaryon disappearing vastly into the velvet black. Even as she watched quite curiously, slightly hesitant. But Jacaerys soon left her side. Rather reluctantly that is, picking up a bag on the way. A rarity it was for that to happen.

Having caught wind of what was being discussed, she was quite amused about how this dragon could have been found. Especially since Aegon was the one claiming it. There was no way, no evidence. " There is no way you could have found him a dragon." Vyselyra finally spoke up, her brows furrowing together—her lips pursed into a straight line.

Vyselyra being smart enough for her age could not fore see where this was leading too. She know much of Aegon's teasing, often they were often harsh in reality. But nothing was as bad as this. As she slowly closed the distance between the boys, it became quite apparent of what Aegon had been playing at.

A noice rattled deep from within the darkness, eyes of those curious trying adjust to it. Even this very noice had caught her off guard. Immediately sucking her attention towards the opening as with everyone else. Then the cause of the noise starting coming into full view—-a pig. With non other than Lucerys holding a stifled giggle to his lips. Aegon was not far to follow. Leaving an emotionally exhausted Aemond standing there whilst his brother carried on taunting.

Vyselyra however, did not take part in the teasing. Instead holding distain upon her small stature. It was plain distasteful on his part—Aemond only ever wanted a dragon like them. But it was abundantly clear to all she was the most angered with Jace and Lucerys for ever thinking such an idea was alright.

" He has no dragon and so you proceed to mock him for it? What is wrong with you Aegon?" She sneered through clenched teeth. But the prince of sixteen obviously did not heed the warning. Instead leaning in, making an oinking gesture towards his brother.

Her eyes of flickering with disappointment then gazed upon the velaryon prince of 10—-her usual soft features were now contorted to anger. " Jace, why would you agree to this? You are better than such a thing." She spoke harshly, stomping over to him with fists closed tightly.

"Oh come on miss party pooper, it was just a little joke." Aegon spoke before slapping her upon her back, rather harshly which greatly upset not only her but Jacaerys.

" Hey, don't you touch her!" Jacaerys countered, taking a hardened stance towards the eldest prince. But Aegon only furrowed his brows—understandably confused why he acted in such a manner.

Vyselyra waited a moment, her sight casted upon the dirt. Her mind processing the utter urge and perhaps the consequences many unravel from her next actions. But Aegon's smug laugh from behind engulfed the entirety of her eardrums. There came a point where she merely did not care for such issues anymore. Quickly turning on her heel, closing in the few steps before raising a small fist— clipping Aegon square in the jaw. Causing the prince to fall sharply against the ground with a thud.

Everyone was quite surprised at the sheer amount of force she held. Jacaerys was rather impressed more than anything—holding a proud look upon his softened features. Yet Lucerys stood there staring—quite unsure what to do. Laenor was somewhat on edge. This was not the first he had seen her anger, yet the first she dared to take violence out on him.

Looking over to a rather content and somewhat remorseful Vyselyra — Aegon held the side of his jaw with the palm of his hand. " What is wrong with you?" He sneered, perching himself upon his elbow. " It was just a joke."

" Not a good one that is." She was quick to counter—exasperation riding heavily upon her tone. Those feelings of regret began to slowly vanish—watching as he lay there quite helpless. And she stood taller than he, casting a triumphant grin—that look of pure malevolent glee. Before merely passing a half chuckle, slowly strolling towards him. Then as he lay, dark eyes smoldering on upon the princess of small stature, gritting his teeth.

The pig grunting just inches from him quite annoyed the prince. But that would be the least of his worries as a loud grumble came down from within the tunneled pit. All looked instantly, be it rather concerned towards the entrance—eyes narrowing into subtle wrinkles. However, the screech was not one neither of the kids would forget as it was the tell tale sign of a dragon.

The step of something rather big slowly approached and out from the dark emerged Windermere. Clearly the dragon had failed to be held within a so called stall. And this little incident installed fear in the younger handlers. It was different when the dragon was chained than it was roaming free. The eldest did not show in the least amount of fear. Whereas the others were quick to man their weapons—holding their staffs arms length away from themselves. He did non of the sort. Instead, crossing his arms with the wooden staff amid them. His eyes following the girls every move—carefully.

His nostrils flared in anticipation as he stared at Vyselyra.  A low grumble escaped his mouth before he began to yell in familiar tongues, " Vyselyra claim your dragon!" But his words were not heeded by the girl of the Harbor. Nor did she take the time to even turn to face him. So this angered him greatly, for out of everyone, she had chose to be this way. Fighting at every opportunity given. So when she did not answer—he began to make heavy strides towards her.

Laenor was just in his overreacting, his usually calm demeanor was now contorted with disdain. Never once did he show such contempt—except a few times before her time. He wanted to grab the girl but frankly that was not the best option as with her dragon there, it would create chaos. Dragons would protect their riders even if it were a fellow member of the house engaging. So that idea was quickly abandoned.

Instead, taking note that Windermere's attention was focused upon the young prince—Laenor began taking slow, drawn out steps towards the princess. His breath catching in his throat at every one he succeeded in. Laenor did not fear for what Aegon would do, he feared of what Vyselyra may. The girl had always been slightly unhinged from the moment he began to training her. But this was farther than he'd ever imagined she'd take it.

Windermere bountiful screech was filled of anger—groggily foamed from the mucus filled depth of his throat. Stoutly he held himself—fins that once laid calmly atop the entirely of his neck; stood up like hair does on a scared cat's back. As they arose, the translucent green shines like delicate stain glass amid the fire light.

Windermere was quite prompt to listen to the words of the girl. Cocking his head side to side carelessly. His chest puffing with excitement for action. Waiting for the moment, the word to cast forth his flame.

"Dracarys" Vyselyra muttered rather strongly, the mother tongue of high Valyrian——of which the young dragon excitedly elevated his head. His head being the very size of fully grown horses belly—towering just mere inches away from Aegon. As his mouth holds agap, a orange hue of a flame begins to rise from the darkened depths.

Aegon's eyebrows arched upwards while his jaw hangs slack. His eyes of blue held wide, before a scream managed to appear from the depths of his throat. Sounding vastly like a woman in distress—-while his arms move in a defensive gesture to save his petty status.

But the flame that grew from the mouth spewed not at him, but engulfing the pig that stood mere inches behind him. It squealed in agony for a moment before the room fell silent once more. It was after this little incident, that the older dragon keeper had enough of the young girls insolence, and dabbed his stick harshly against her wrist. Which caught her attention rather distastefully—shooting him a look of disbelief he would try such a thing. But it was Laenor that was quick to intervene.

The prince of Driftmark pressed himself between her and the keeper. A look of grimace flooded all at once across his face. How was this going to be explained to Rhaenyra? And most importantly, her mother? Naemera was quite the woman to talk too and she was not open hearted to those that lacked in their duties. 

Aemond however, was quite thrilled of what the princess did. A warmth boiled deep, residing within the pits of his stomach. Mustering the courage, the youngest son of Viserys began to make moves towards the young princess, though she were faced with the consequences of her said-actions. But Aemond did not care, all that filled the entirety of his mind was she did care—after all these times of him wallowing in the shadows, his very wish had come true.

But Jacaerys was quite prompt in taking note of Aemond's approach. Immediately moving himself from where he once stood to gain his spot beside her once more—though quite upset with her decision. This caused Aemond to slowly stop his walk to a crawl—his mind flushing with anger that Jacaerys intended to halt his attempt once again.

"How about we visit our training hmm?." Laenor interjected with much hast behind his words. Trying move the conversation elsewhere. But the keeper was persistent in his stand—merely speaking in his native tongue, before the woman stationed next to him translated, " The girl is quite careless especially her dragon. So it shall remain in the pit with Rhaeys, chained until needed."

Laenor reluctantly accepted the terms but Vyselyra begged to differ. Instead trying to push Laenor out of the way with him grabbing her back. " No, my dragon shall not be contained!" She yelped, grabbing tightly at his clothes but Laenor was quick to dismiss her. Hastly covering her mouth with his hand, " Please ignore the princess's insolence." He begged openheartedly. A smile just barely visible across his lips. The elder keeper merely grunted with a subtle nod. He was a man of few words—a scar housed the left side of his temple.

" Insolence? I was merely humbling Aegon. He needs it every once and a while." She argued innocently as if she did not almost set him on fire. But quite to her dismay, Laenor was not having it.

The princess of the harbour having not got her way and being forced to watch as the keepers slowly gathered around Windermere— greatly caused her anguish. Chains held tightly in their callous hands, some still carried wooden staffs—pointing towards the emerald dragon. Windermere growled lowly, snarling the teeth long like small knifes. He flared his tail round, holding the tip slightly above his body. As imitating as Windermere presumed he were, he was still small in size.

Listening to his cries of despair, snarling and chomping at the air as handlers closed the distance. Vyselyra herself being held back by Laenor—-were like chains of her own. The girl could not bear it anymore. Visibly upset that she was merely protecting Aemond against one of Aegon's teasing sessions, and was now being punished. Thus when she saw the opportunity of all attention drafted upon the dragon, she wiggled herself free from his lose grasp. Being smaller allowed for easy passage out of such situations.
And so Vyselyra bolted like a hog to a food pin.

Taking a Laenor quite by surprise. His eyes widening with every steps she took towards the exit. Pushing past the guards of the city, rather quickly, both being caught by surprise as neither having enough time to react. One did try to race after her, reaching his long arm out to grab the cape that flowed behind her, but to no avail.

Laenor was after her with Jacaerys following in second. There was not a moment where he wasn't with her— a sort of duty one may say. So when Jace saw her rush off in hast, the way he felt as if his heart stopped for a moment— his mind glazing over. His mother had told Jace parts of the city were of good nature, but there were also places that weren't where a young girl should be. Especially one of noble birth. And Rhae was quite stern on that part but how she knew—well she'd never tell Jacaerys.

So worry fawned itself over the entirety of his small body as his legs carried him—of what possible would befall her. Especially of those not keen on following orders. Laenor had stopped just halfway out of the entrance—madly catching his breath as a slump of a shout tried to mingle itself out. His hands placed heavily atop his head as he twirled aimlessly round. But as Jacaerys tried to locate her—his eyes of worry glancing towards every nook and cranny, it was deemed official that both had lost sight of her.

worried, Jacaerys was quite quick to arm himself—running back inside for his leather bag. Inside laid his armor for training which was schedule for after the pit, but I would have to wait. The boy had other pressing issues upon his mind.

Gently placing his training armor on, he struggled slightly at the leather stripes. Mentally cursing to himself as it was Vyselyra or Harwin that often helped him. Of course, neither were there in that moment. Once the obstacle of the leather was out of the way, Jace quickly retrieved his wooden sword, before holding sturdy at his side.

Laenor however was quite bamboozled when Jacaerys came waltzing back out. The man raising a darkened brow at his son's determination. "My boy, you mustn't. You are the future heir, the king." But Laenor pleas fell on deaf ears as Jacaerys was quick to counter his claim, " And she could be the future Queen." Jacaerys was quite to hush—his eyes blaring wide as if some secret had been let lose. Both father and son gazed at another, unmoving at the words just uttered. " I just mean, Vyselyra is my friend, I have a duty to protect her." He spoke valiantly—stuttering slightly with the words as his cheeks blazing with red.

As worried as he was, Jacaerys had alittle voice that chimes at the very back of his mind. One were he believed in Vyselyra's abilities to find her own way out of such trouble. If anyone can do this, it was her as she was the outspoken and quite the introvert when needed. Vyselyra was good at playing the game.

People shouted obscenities at the girl of silver hair whom rushed without end through crowds. Gleefully twisting around corners and dodging carts. It was all a game to her really. Running was her way to feel power when she felt she didn't have any. However, Vyselyra halted her movements once deeming herself far enough away— huffing for a lick of air to fill the lungs. Placing her hands shakily against her knees as she leaned over.

But as voices of those around evaded her ears, her eyes then glanced over dozens—hastily searching for Laenor. But to her amusement, the prince of Driftmark was nowhere to be sighted. For a moment, she riveted in victory having won at getting away.

But that small victory was short lived as now reality kicked in. Twirling round where she stood, it became quite apparent she was in the heart of flea bottom at Kingslanding. People of grungy nature stared her down like hungry animals to a feast. Clothes ripped and shoes mangled. It was quite the scene—different from White Harbor.

Smoke and a variety of other smells filled the town, filling every hidden corner with the stench of those that did not heed in cleaning. Quite the most unbearable when compared to the smoke. In an effort to keep the smell at bay, Vyselyra was quick to cover her nose with her cloak as she marched on.

Many had laid against the tanned walls whilst others laid upon the ground. Some as if all she passed didn't do much but stare at her with their wide eyes, void of any semblance feelings. She was a lone dragon in a place amongst much more violent beasts. The girl of nine merely avoided eye contact with the them as much as possible. Those here were far different than the people at White Harbor. The ones she cared greatly for.

The clamor of voices had melted all into one—with her mind searching for ways to opt out. As she strolled the alleys with a sense of urgency, it was dawning on her that maybe running away from those that held her close wasn't such a good idea. The girl had not a clue nor sense of direction of where said alleys would end. This had been the first trip down into flea bottom and while it was quite intriguing to her, she did not take a liking of the disgruntled looks.

Vyselyra even tried to retrace her steps—walking back through the lonely passages filled to the brim with beggars. The tan walls of the castle stand tall as the sun gloomed over. The presence of stench still lingered in the air. But She walked pass a darkened entry way was when someone of another language called her name. The first someone had actually acknowledged her.

" Vyselyra Targaryen... daughter of House Manderly."
The girl of nine stopped died in her tracks, before quickly turning towards the voice. " Vyselyra Targaryen.." the young girl froze once more, her eyes of gold trying to make out a figure in the array of darkness.

" Who's there?" She asked quite clearly. But instead of a response, a shadow slowly appeared out of the darkness. A older woman twice to her senior, head covered in black,
slick hair. Black paint covered the entirely of her forehead— and looked as if it were dragged down by her fingers upon her cheeks. Small symbols marked across her face. The woman of many years had hair that was mangled in a hot mess, dirt covering upon her nails and hands.

The woman, though slightly hunched over, slowly made her way over to an already hesitant Vyselyra. Her mother had often warned the girl of flea bottom and its many shroud's of liars. Ones that claimed full faith in the higher. But Vyselyra had always found the stories of them quite interesting— as white harbor did not house much.

The woman gently touched Vyselyra's silver hair, curling it around her wrinkled index finger. " Ah silver hair, the marking of a true Targaryen." The woman's voice raspy as she spoke. Vyselyra merely jerked her head back, with her hair vastly sliding from the woman's grasp.

But the woman was not in the least surprised by her reaction, instead mustering a small, sinister, smile. " Your destiny is just beginning my child. A dark is looming and there is still much to be done. You will be chosen to lead the people against the great darkness." Vyselyra narrowed her eyes, the stories told from her mother rattling around her mind.

" What do you mean?" She acquired rather smugly—folding her arms upon her chest. Trying to see what she was playing at. The woman chuckled lightly beneath her breath, her sight casting to the ground, " I see that flame that burns within you. A girl without a care to the wind and a temper to match a true dragon."

Vyselyra slowly released her arms to stay at her side once more—fingers curling up into small fists. The woman's eyes of tan then raised to meet hers—studying the young girls features. " Do not let that flame falter. Do not listen to those that merely want your attention to settle false claims. A Queen you will be."

Vyselyra cocked her head slightly as the woman gently took her hand into her frail one. Before looking back up to meet her unsure gaze. The divine of white harbor merely stared at the woman of unkempt nature—unfazed by what she spoke, " i See a darkness in you and in that darkness, i see eyes staring back, purple, brown, green and blue, eyes that you will shut out forever." She whispered faintly.

" How are you sure of such things?" She asked quite unsure of this woman's delusional state. The woman nearly shrugged but raised a finger up, "Beware as such things cost a great deal. And to you will come upon many of a great heart ache. One of many of the hardest times you will face."

" What?" Vyselyra whispered, tensing her shoulders and balling her fists tighter. But the woman did not heed the day to even acknowledge the question. So before Vyselyra could even utter another word, the woman of another place raised her hand to meet Vyselyra's forehead. " See them!" She shouted. But she would not achieve anything as Vyselyra back away rather abruptly. Much to the woman's displeasure. It was all a gimmick, one faulted at getting those dumb enough to believe it.

But as she may say that, fear was gripping the Targaryen whole as fight or flight kicked in. Without a second to waste, Vyselyra opted that her way out was to run once more into the depths of flea bottom. And so that's just want she did. As Vyselyra pushed through the unexpecting crowds, the woman's cackle slowly faded into the background. As now the only sound was the faint beat of her erratic heartbeat.

But a man deemed an age far pass that of her father or even her grand uncle Viserys—grabbed ahold of her forearm rather tightly. Causing Vyselyra to violently thrash back, mustering a tiny Yelp.

The man merely grinned at her failing, one that held malicious content behind it. His eyes then glanced her up and down, starting from the head down to the toes, and as his eyes traveled back to meet hers—it seemed as if his eyes had read it all. " She's a high born!" An elder lady came withering over with basket in hand. Vyselyra held nothing more than a hint of confusion as to whom these people were.

" So you must know who who I am!" She angry shouted. Quite unpleased that this man would dare to grab her in such a way. But he merely grinned, " What's a little high born like you doing down here?"

" That is non of your business." She simply spat through teeth tightly clenched. If his interests was in scaring the girl, he would have to do a lot more to succeed. The man only grinned maliciously which in turn twisted her face with utter contempt. So as Vyselyra tried to pluck the ancient fingers of time from her forearm—a familiar cackle hummed deep from the man's chest.

Her eyes slowly scanned from her arm up to meet the man's. The cackle stopped once Vyselyra realized, a slight unshoveled breath escapes her mouth. What was this?

As Vyselyra suddenly jerked back, trying to catch him off guard, the man began to speak yet a it were not the voice of man that dared leave his mouth moments before. This time it took the same raspy pitch as the woman in the darkness. " Remember what I said." She spoke with a slight grin. Rather stunned, Vyselyra could not even muster the strength to speak. Instead just locked in staring whom ever this entity was down.

" I say un hand her at once or else you will be pay." A voice boomed from behind her. One that spoke of utter desperation, one acting as though he was older and could hold his own. Her eyes were quick to fall from the entity towards the voice she grown accustomed too—Jacaerys. The boy of ten years fashioned with his silver plated armor and wooden sword drawn before him. Just as Harwin had taught him.

" What's this? Little prince has come to save his charming?" The man's deepened voice then retook that of the woman's, confusing the Targaryen evermore. The begger merely chuckled loudly before his face then fell of any emotion. " I'll strike you down if the need arises." Jacaerys spoke which in turn only made the man laugh.

"Look at this ya. A boy gonna strike me down with a wooden sword. As if." Instead of causing him to back down, it only seemed to make Jacaerys more determined in proving him wrong.  But that was until Laenor gracefully stepped in—pointing his sword towards the beggar in question.

"Let her go." He commanded sternly, pressing his sword against the man's wrinkled neck. Within an instant, the tinging from his grasp was lifted—allowing her dart towards Jacaerys. The boy gracefully accepted her hand into his when she reached for him. Both lying eyes upon another once more. A bubbling feeling unbeknownst grew tenfold knowing she was safe, standing before him. The urge to hug her was enveloping his mind whole.

A smile meekly made across her pale lips, one that spoke gratitude towards him, caring enough to come for her. Of course she would never be the one to say it— making too much of her pride too. " Thank you Jace." A whisper faint as a bird's hymn escaped her lips. But this moment was short lived as her mother's voice clear as day ringed out from the gathering crowd. And the tone of it was not in the least what the princess wanted to hear.

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______ Hi everyone!! Thank you guys so
much for all the love on this book!!!!
Who's excited for more
Vyselyra and Jacaerys??? ________

Till next time,
Shiv 🧸