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@baelabond
Daughter of Prince Daemon. Ironclad. Gem of Lady Laena. Bold. Said to have dragon's blood flowing through their veins. Grace that holds integrity. Fearlessness and ferocity pumps the vigor that fuels their every move. They are everything that one could ask for; and yet, they seek to attain new heights. Betrothed. Beloved.
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Clad in Velaryon colors, Jacaerys arrived in King's Landing with his own betrothed at his side. Having been promised to Baela since childhood there was no great announcement to consummate their future marriage. Like all royal children they were pawns in a game greater than themselves, expected to marry for the betterment of the realm. Only Jace and Baela were no ordinary nobles. They were royalty, destined to one day ascend to the Iron Throne where they would govern the realm. But tonight they were simple party guests, equipped with masks so they could hide their true identities. For once Jace didn't bemoan his lack of Targaryen features. His dark hair helped him blend in with the citizenry. Aside from the colors that spoke of his allegiance to House Velaryon he looked no different than any other courtier in attendance. Baela, on the other hand, stuck out wherever he went. His beautifully colored hair, paired with gorgeous features that not even a mask could diminish, made him stand out from the crowd. They could use that to their advantage. While the invitation to the party had requested that all animosity be left at the door, Jace had chosen to ignore it. This was his castle, after all. But he could play nice when necessary, and he had all of the charm of Rhaenyra Targaryen when she was the darling of the court. "We are to sow alliances and gather intel." He explains, smiling at passing pair of party goers who were ogling them. Together they could divide and conquer, discovering which houses to trust and which houses to avoid. "Only if you're certain. A hundred years have past, but I can wager that snakes still infest every nook and cranny of the castle." Jace would see those he couldn't trust with complete certainty tossed out of his court. "But we're in an excellent position. Nobody will recognize us which we can use to our advantage. I've half a mind to seek out whoever controls Highgarden. They supply the land with produce, and with them under our wing we could choke out our enemies before they gain traction." Jace muses as if they were in the counsel chambers and not surrounded by perfumed dancers.
`✦ Uncertainty ⊹ Baela was known to indulge in dancing too close to flames. Just enough to tempt or to provoke. But he was intuitive and intelligent. Enough to provide himself with insight on most situations. He began to let his attention wane. Alliances? Certainly an idea. Baela only saw this as a real way to establish connections and solidify the ones they've already created. He glanced over at his betrothed and gave him a very puzzled gaze. How could he simply 'fit' in when his beautiful features and brilliant hair made him a beacon for those wandering eyes to fall upon. He squeezed Jace's hand once again. He cleared his throat and began to speak in High Valyrian. He knew Jace was a little less endowed in vocabulary but they could still hold a conversation.
<<"I can not simply pretend to be a guest. There is no mask and no cowl heavy enough to hide who I am. Besides, we've already made the mistake on identifying ourselves in Velaryon banners.">> Though proud; through and through, they were exposed. Baela could; and would, speculate of the simpletons that now sat behind those castle walls. But it wasn't wise to assume they'd simply discount who they were. By order of elimination, warring kingdoms could make their identities. <<"I trust you've already been thinking about The Highgarden?">> Baela looked away, slowly picking out his first target/elbow to rub for the evening. <<"Are there any surprises for the evening I should expect? I can only assume they're all...insatiable.">> ----<<...>>said in High Valyrian
　　the rumours started with the sighting of dragons across the crownlands. visions of winged beasts soaring across dragonstone and driftmark, whispers which had made their way to the shores of the blackwater. easy enough to dismiss as simple desperation. the need to believe in the rise of a lost targaryen princess that resided somewhere across the narrow sea, coming with dragons to end the war for once and for all. laughable.
　　then it wasn't just dragons, but ghosts. figures from decades past, roaming around them as if the seven had granted them a second chance at life. not any unimportant lords or knights, but full-blooded princes, kings and queens. the small council remained skeptical, as anyone would with tall tales such as that. was cersei supposed to believe that they walk around the corner and find aegon the conqueror having lemon cakes with baelor the blessed?
　　and yet, right before their eyes, stood a tall and fair figure. a person of dark skin and silver blond curls, beautiful locks that came down to pool on their shoulders. no mummer's wig could be as convincing, and no dye could do justice to how pure the moon white of them was. could this truly be one of those alleged visitors, from times gone by?
　　whatever was the case, cersei was as least pleased to see that this person knew exactly who the rightful queen was. said queen bowing her head in return as they offered a candid smile. they were the hostess for the night, after all.
　　"good evening, milady." their handheld mask was pulled back down, allowing themselves to inspect the newcomer with a careful eye. "i hope you are enjoying yourself tonight, king joffrey made sure everything was perfect for all our guests from far and wide." that was a lie, cersei had been the one keeping an eye on every detail, every dish and every decoration being placed under her approval. but joffrey was the one sitting on the throne, so they better be thankful he was. "i don't believe we have been properly introduced though, have we? exquisite dress..."
`✦ Diplomacy ⊹ Should the hand offered be one of well-intentions, a courteous mid-ground should be welcomed. Instead, Baela's gaze befell that of a vexing presence. He learned to read most; if not all, dwellings of these Kingdoms lost to time. He'd long prepared to face the jaws of danger, and those that saw the future Queen had made sure he could carry the weight upon his own shoulders. He departed with a smile. A genuine on. To what intent, he'd never reveal. Though, if Cersei was wise, they'd notice the lack of definition at play. The proud Targaryen took a generous gaze around this festivity. A gentle nod as if his appraisal was fair. Pleased. It was certainly nice that someone; and an entire House, who did not belong on this throne, take great care of the true heir's seat.
"The King's eye is wonderful and I must confess. It is quite the gathering." Baela returned his gaze upon the face of the dowager. He furrowed a brow, half-minded to simply dance around the subject. How could the lady-in-question trot away from such a curious notion. Almost as if the omission or lack of information could hold great position. Driftmark; under Jacaerys and Baela's control, had resurrected the naval power. Those rumors had to be anything but whispers. And the honor of her grandfather was worn by the small details upon his cape. He paused, wondering if the Queen had pieced it all together. Surely it wasn't difficult. "I also must thank you. It took quite a bit of research to find something much more befitting than some of these suggestions. I'd almost say I required something fit for a Queen." Baela smirked. "I am a diplomat sent on behalf of House Velaryon." Under the Queen Dowager's gaze, Baela seemed to illuminate in an inextinguishable blaze that was pride.
`✦ Boldness ⊹ To some, staring into the depths of uncertainty would present one with a state of dread. Fear, even. With what he'd learned of these chronicled bits made him only want to dig deeper. The bitterness that certainly lingered on his tongue only enhanced Baela's desire to stride deeper. He watched everyone in the room, no matter their age or position. And yet, none were wiser to his purpose nor intent. He'd known the dangers of every single stage of someone's life. And some weren't to be underestimated at any phase. He'd watched how the room moved. Some were absent in their approaches. Reproaches, even. Some danced with flirtations. Some with disgust. However, it seemed one person would assume every piece upon the board was theirs to move. Cersei Lannister. Baela moved through the crowd. His eyes were absently skimming across the many faces until servants and knights shifted into place. Their attention was anything but warm. They were receptive, but not quite as if familiarity or warmth welcomed the platinum white hair of a face hidden beneath the owl mask.
The closer he'd arrived to the particular dates of the betrothal's celebration, the more people began to spread word of Lady Baela's presence in Westeros. Fleets of sailors said it as if it as myth. Like some ghost haunting great halls and ballrooms. Some dismissing absent details. Though the widespread conversations of dragons; once again, taking to the sky had made many uneasy. Only-- the numbers of the winged beasts made information move slower. Shorelines were first to break news. How far the stories had made it? Baela wasn't exactly clear. Though, it was quite time to reveal themselves. After all, Driftmark was becoming much more lively with more of Corlys' blood stoking those flames, again.
"Your majesty." Baela broke silence as he dipped into a deep bow before the queen of this familiar shadow of a foreign land. He'd wait for the Queen to either receive or turn the Lady of Driftmark away.
---@ofthronesandkings
`✦ Intentionality ⊹ Baela nursed the glass of wine to which he'd factored could be a token of poison. An act of sabotage. One slip of awareness; or his watchful gaze, could have him ensnared in a position that could prove to be beneficial for one party or another. Though he were displaced, Baela had become well-studied of modern structures and leverages of power. He only sought to witness the balances and exchanges for himself. All of which were consequential to his placement. Some of the knowledge was palpable. The air had grown to become dense enough to cause retching or discomfort. Anxiety and nervousness was a given. Jace and Baela were walking into a situation with half-truths at no fault of their own. They didn't belong here. It had yet to be disproven if they were the only ones thrown into this period. Additional whispers of dragons could be manufactured to keep the pair under control. But he'd always keep caution at his side. His gaze is cast upon those around him. Some houses brought silence to his wandering mind. Some details recalled, but nothing substantial. His white hair was a talking point. His regal fashioned sash made many curious. Yet the dragon's pin and the pearlescent owl drew in few anchors.
"I can't remember the last time I'd attended a masked ball." Baela spoke up, speaking to no one specifically as a point to draw anyone who was eager to listen. He was then escorted to the King by a hand-servant while the guards tended to securing Renly's safety. "Your majesty." Baela's right leg lined with the left heel of his shoe. He gently tucked into a bow with the lowering of his gaze toward Renly's feet. A soft bend of the knees. Elegance oozed from him, as eloquence danced in a supernatural way. The hem of his robe kept his bosom from spilling forth as he bowed, though his breathing only cause the neckline and chest of his robes to fill and expand. Each element presented like beautiful embroidery of a fine robe. From infancy and ability, Baela was taught to be everything he needed to serve the throne - shield and sword. The fire that smoldered inside those hot veins made him as dangerous as he was enchanting. The shock of someone near was swallowed as they were forced to look upon the Baratheon. As if fear was something Baela needed to present. To their surprise, he held none. He was certain that the noteworthy individuals all had received word of Baela's arrival. He just wasn't sure if they'd anticipated him. "I trust that this is a wonderful time to make introductions and silent those that spread whispers?" ---@renlyxbaratheon
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King's Landing Masquerade Ball - Betrothal Commencement
`✦ Arrivals ⊹ The whispers of farewells would sate Moondragon long enough to keep her temper at bay. The belly of capital was a labyrinth that would consume the wandering. What was once a scribe of caution were old tales that many would use to make the young fall into reason. History failed them. The collection of time's passage drew Baela to pause. He'd question the validity to which most presented with some parchment. Chronology had been one of the few things that struck him with uncertainty even as he clasped to Jacaerys' hand. A gentle squeeze was to reassure the Prince Reagent. But it was also to bring himself back to the present. He could allude to composure. His grace allowed everyone to perceive his evenness as control. But there was an inkling of worry. Worry about what could come. Every action that led to the present made him consider holding on to what he had. The chronicles of his life felt like heavy chords of a lyre. He smiled for a moment as the pair ascend stairs and cross doorways. He'd catch the absent, fleeting gaze of his betrothed, and his hand was released once their privacy had been severed. Welcoming parties would escort them into the inner chambers of the celebration. It was familiar, but the air; the feeling of these chambers, felt so distorted. These faces. These strangers.
"Remind me of our purpose, my love?" Baela whispered, withdrawing the meandering attention from Jace's curiosities back to him. His own gaze resumed the consumption of their immediate vicinity. It was best to anticipate that variables than to be caught by complete surprise. His own ignorance of their anomaly had been dispelled by the intel and informants that brought him up to speed. Driftmark was their haven. And it was now time to immerse themselves into the heaviness of politics of the kingdoms. They were prepared for this their entire lives. It was only time for Jace to step into everything their Queen had bestowed upon his shoulders. "I do believe we'd do greater good if we split our efforts after we share a dance. Make it look less suspicious, though my white hair and my grandfather's pin is doing a fine job stoking those flames." Baela gestured to the watchful gazes of the splintered courts and judging gazes.
---@sanglantroi
"Baela." Jace smiles around his name. "How did you manage to procure a fortress?" He's giddy with pride, and the feeling extends to Vermax who chitters excitedly. Baela was very persuasive when they needed to be, and no doubt the sight of Moondancer had helped. Jace had planned on retreating to the vale where he hoped to find allies. Lannisters and Baratheons lurked in the south, leaving Jace with very little reason to venture there for the time being. Driftmark had once been his home, and Jace could easily embolden the people to rise up in support of his cause. After being ran out of Dragonstone, Jace ventured into the markets of Driftmark. He had garnered as much attention as he could, and came to the conclusion that everybody else had gone mad. It was a Targaryen that was slain by Robert Baratheon, leaving the Stag to rule over the realm. They spoke of a mad king, and of the rebellion that saw the Targaryen line snuffed out. Jace thought it all ridiculous. How could a house as mighty as his own be wiped from the face of the earth? Yet, Jace had to pause several times when a villager caught sight of the dragon emblem on his doublet. His hair and dark-colored eyes were the only reason they didn't distrust him. Jace must have just appeared very eccentric then, wearing fashions that had gone out of date nearly two hundred years ago. "They say that there are no Targaryens left. Perhaps that is why? These people have all come down with a sickness of the mind." Jace reasons with a shrug of his shoulders. "Or perhaps they are simply being forced to say so by Lord Borros." Jace cannot fathom why anybody would be intimidated by the man. "I doubt that, however. The man isn't exactly sharp." He rests a hand at the small of Baela's back. "--Now. Where's that fortress?"
`✦ Certainty ⊹ The paved path before them was not a treacherous one. Well, this one, at the very least. It would present its challenges. And allegiances would need to be forged, but Driftmark was procured as a haven. For now. A furtive smile begot a knowing smirk. He never wanted Driftmark. Not even the slightest. He'd relinquish his seat to the first, second, or even third alternative to better suit such a title. For now, he'd sit as an advisor. In fact, it would never cause Jace any disadvantages. He took a moment to inhale before he'd reveal part of his secrets. Some details to which the process of claiming such a grand stake was something he wasn't going to share with his beloved, but it wasn't enough to hurt nor inflict harm - of any kind.
"I had to first present proof of lineage before I could've made simple requests. They were demands ...nonetheless." There was the fiery glint in the eye and the tick of his head as he looked off to hide the blaze behind his gaze. "I will assist the fleets on some voyages. Perhaps ensure safe travels into dangerous lands. Secure diplomacy. I've yet to reveal who I am, but I do think in proper timing and in trusted spaces. We never know how deep this crux burrows." Upon Jace's inquiry, Baela assumed it was best to simply show him. He made very little fuss as he retreated toward Moondancer. The direct pathing toward the mighty beast cause her to pull from her beautiful bond with Vermax. Their dance was a very beautiful one. Elegant. Fluid. Baela and Moondancer's dance was a testament to both of their strength. Upon the back of his dragon, Baela shifted into an immediate gallop as it took to the air. "Prince Jacaerys, do follow my lead this time." A grin stitched across his features as he beamed in radiant scolding. It was nice to find some piece of glee in such a trying time.
It is Baela that anchors him to the shore. He was certain that if his betrothed hadn't taken by the hands, that he would have crumpled to the floor in defeat. Jace cannot allow himself to be overwhelmed by the uncertainty that now travels up his throat like bile. He was heir to the Iron Throne, and had to lead by example. Jace gathers his composure, locking away all of his vulnerability where none could see it before throwing away the key. Jace draws a deep breath before exhaling, "My mother wouldn't have gone down without a fight, and she definitely wouldn't have handed Dragonstone to Lord Borros." He squeezes Baela's hands, offering a small grin in support. "She's out there somewhere, I'm certain." Rhaenyra would have mustered the entirety of her might to snuff out the Baratheons for even daring to march against Dragonstone. Which made her sudden disappearance alarming. There were no signs of a great battle, or deceased dragons lining the shores. Something awful had happened, Jace just couldn't determine what. "We must remain vigilant and gather as much information as we can." Together Baela and Jace would one day reign over the realm side by side, making it more important now than ever that they made it out of this alive. They were the hope of the next generation. "We should seek refuge somewhere safe. Once there we can determine our next course of action, and rest. I've known nothing but stress these last few days, and it's starting to get to me." Jace admits without hesitation for there is nobody he trusts more than his betrothed.Â
`✦ Knots ⊹ There was no other way to describe that feeling that clung to him. The prince's betrothed. As long as there was air within his lungs and a beating heart in his chest, he'd try his damnedest to take the worry from his shoulders. The crown deserved to rest on stable shoulders and a solid foundation. Baela took a second to gather the immediacy of their surroundings. Much of it remained the same. He could recount the countless times he'd stroll these waterways with his grandmother. His thumbs brushed over his knuckles; gingerly, as he washed a wave of compassion by subtle gesture. He let his eyes drift up to the sky to seek answers that he did not have.
"Until we are unable, we will continue our search. For now, I suggest we retreat into a safer space. For all we know, we need to take survey as to what higher mysteries we're being thrust into." Baela turned back to Jace. He sought words or notions that the prince's lips would never impart upon him. And no matter how difficult, Baela could decipher the depths of those eyes to which he sailed a thousand and one times. "I've already secured a small fortress that is not in ruin. And though I do not enjoy the way people look on me, I do recognize their gentleness. Almost as if I'm the haunting of these people's forgotten faith."
semi-plotted starter for : @baelabond
The sigh of the shifting sea did little to calm Jace who had been a bundle of nerves and anxiety since returning to Driftmark. Dragonstone had been occupied by Baratheon forces, leaving Jace to assume that Lord Borros had taken the castle by force. How he bested Syrax, Moondancer, and the plentiful dragons that roamed there was a mystery. His heart ached at the thought of whatever misfortune befell his mother, and his betrothed. Baela wouldn't have gone down without a fight. He was a ferocious warrior, skilled with a multitude of weapons, and made even deadlier on Moondancer. But there had been no remnants of a bloody battle, or scorched bodies lining the shores. So what had happened? It truly felt as if everybody vanished in the blink of an eye.
Jace had slept beside Vermax, tucked beneath his wing. Driftmark's ancestral castle, while ruined, had acted as a temporary refuge to the dragon prince. When he woke he would venture inside, determining if the structure was fit to act as a base of temporary operation. Vermax stirred, waking up his rider in the process. Jace had used his cape as a temporary bedroll, affording him a few hours of much needed rest. Lifting his head, he was surprised to see Vermax running toward the shore. Jace followed the dragon's gaze upward to catch the familiar sight of pale green scales decorated with stripes. Baela! He jumps up and onto his feet, gathering his cape so he can clasp it back to his tunic. Jace runs to join Vermax who excitedly chitters at the sight of Moondancer. When Baela touches down, he scoops him up and into his arms, squeezing them tightly. "Oh, Baela!" Jace cries, pressing his face into his chest. "You're alive!" Tears shimmered at the edges of his vision while relief blossoms in his chest. Finally setting Baela down, Jace takes a moment to gather his bearings. "Where is my mother?"
`✦ Confusion ⊹ The immediate thrum that drove his heart to beat faster. As every fiber of his being sunk, the rising storm to weather were his own emotions. To be held in Jace's hold; without hesitation- or prying eyes, felt as if he hadn't felt it for longer than a day. His eyes beheld those raven curls and the unspoken words hidden behind his eyes. He anticipated reunions, but he didn't quite expect it to feel like this. He battled his own tears; his own fears, to stoke Jace's resilience. Once he knew would need to fare a great deal before this day would end. He secured the man's face, his soft, silken palms almost drained the weight of the man's worries. His thumbs collect his tears and would pour some of his own strength into the prince. Should their Queen return to them, he'd have to release this hold. But for now? Jace was his Prince Regent.
"I duly note that it is against my wishes and intention to tell you, I do not know where the Queen is." The words felt like steel bolting him to the ground. His own emotions swaying in the wind. Moondancer did take a moment to check in on Baela but was reassured when Vermax offers some rather playful nuzzles and trills. Baela held his hands, drawing them to his hips as he drew closer. He offered his footing to support to Prince should he feel weaker with the discovery that their circumstance was little to be desired. "I was tending to Moondancer for a brief spell. The pit grew quiet. Too quiet." He swallowed; thickly. "Moondancer shuffled me closer to her and that is when I immediately took flight. The castle is...not as we once knew it." Baela took a deep breathe. "For once, I have no bearing on what is going on."
