"Joy filled the Red Keep once the Grand Maester pronounced the girl to be healthy and robust, vanquishing any fretting over the squalling babe. Once her struggle was over, Haera became a lively creature, often screaming for the teat until red in the face. Never before, and never since, has the Keep seen so many wet nurses filter in and out. A young Lady Roslyn, who attended to the queen's correspondence, expressed concern she would grow fat lest her appetites be controlled. The king and queen, for their part, waved off such fussing, instead spoiling the wee thing until her rancorous cries turned to satiated coos. For those not attending Court, the rumors of the lusty Targaryen babe sent wrinkled lips pursing. For those privileged few chosen to be courtiers, the babe's large, dark violet eyes melted the heart. Her tiny hand curling around outstretched fingers, a soft gurgle on her lips, unmade even the most hardened of men. From the adoring looks her parents gave their girl bundled in their arms, it was clear to all neither would hear a word of urging them to show restraint. They were too in love.

"Haera grew into a girl of immeasurable charm. Possessing the unearthly beauty of dragonlords even as a youth, there was little she could not get away with. Even Jaehaerys in his stern scoldings of her softened like wax at her drooping frown and eyes welling with unshed tears. Alysanne was notably less affected, thus the only member of Court able to tame the beastie. From her mother, she learned to be polite and genial. However, her most important lesson was in patience. 'Act as though their defiance matters not. Turn your eyes to other matters, and watch how they scramble to please,' her mother advised. 'Men admire obstinance in their king, but chafe when a woman stands in their way. Play them as you would an instrument, and they shall dance to whatever pretty tune you deign.' And how Haera loved to see men dance for her.

"Haera was greatly adored by her older siblings, though to various degrees. Baelon and Alyssa took the greatest shining to her, delighting in the proud tilt to her chin and glint of mischief in her eye. Yet it was Vaegon who captured Haera's attention the most. Much to her brother's chagrin, Haera was never too far behind him. Whether he sequestered himself in the scriptorium or stalked off to a hidden corner in the courtyard, Haera found him and hung onto him. The boy oft wore a sour scowl, responding sharply to her incessant questions, though notably he never shrugged her off the way he did the rest of their siblings. 'Annoying though she be,' he said to Aemon one day, 'she is not wholly without wit and humor.'

"But Haera was not one to tolerate being snubbed. Seeing Vaegon skirt the edges of the Keep to avoid her, she let him. With two younger sisters, each of increasing beauty, Haera had much to keep her occupied. While no one could know at the time, many now guess the seed of Saera's defiance was planted in these days, having learned her sister's arrogance yet none of her discretion. Vaegon enjoyed his days of peace. For the first time in years, he did not drag an unsolicited shadow behind him wherever he went. With no one clinging to his arm and asking him a litany of inquiries, he read his tomes in solitude. It wasn't until a feast was held for his nameday that he noticed where Haera's attention had turned. Sat beneath the high table, she was surrounded by lordlings--some even lords, themselves, despite their youth. Each uttered fair words that elicited a giggle from the princess, and each one made the furrow between Vaegon's brow deepen. It was an odd feeling watching the sister who trailed after him as though he forged the sun itself have her eyes on someone else, one he did not understand. Even when he strode over to her and bade she sit beside him, he knew not why. Her smile thinly veiled her triumph.

"The cat was not done playing with the mouse, however. Vaegon, despite the growing discomfort he had when Haera was attended by others, did not warm to his sister. He continued to behave coldly, not bothering to conceal his mounting annoyance. It only made Haera smile more. Haera encouraged the attention of the boys at Court, let young ladies stroke her face adoringly, and even played the shy maid with men who made flirty remarks. Each one left Vaegon scowling, knuckles whitening from how tightly he clenched his fists. Haera reveled in his fury.

"With Vaegon thoroughly ensnared in her web, she laid the final trap. Arm in arm with the son of a lord visiting the Crownlands, the pair wandered the grounds of the Red Keep. The lordling plucked flowers for her, as though they were his gardens and not hers. Once they rounded the corner, the lordling made his move. Despite the danger to her virtue, Haera never despaired for she knew what would happen next. Unfortunately for her young friend, he did not until Vaegon shoved him bodily to the ground. Were it not for his status as prince, there was no doubt the lordling would have beaten him bloody. His look of ire even sent a shiver down Haera's spine. 'Should you sully my sister with your unworthy presence again, I ensure your future will be at an end.' If the lordling had any retort, neither remained to hear it. Vaegon dragged his sister away, his grip painful but she made no protest. When they reached a place shadowed from prying eyes, he kissed her with all the unpracticed, fiery passion of youth. 'Never let your eye wander again,' he ordered. 'You are mine alone.' Haera laughed at his faux authority. 'Nay," she said, stroking his hair, 'I am my own. 'Tis you who belongs to me, body and soul.' Vaegon bristled at his sister's conceit, but found no argument to the contrary could be made.

"When Jaehaerys offered to send Vaegon to the Citadel, the king was turned down with a snide sneer and a huff. 'Who else but I could tame Haera?'

'Oh, dear boy,' Alysanne tutted affectionately, 'I fear it is you who has been tamed.'

"The following year, 79 AC, Kingslanding was flush with guests for the marriage of Vaegon and Haera. No two were so perfectly made for the other. While Vaegon's scowl and Haera's smile were different as night and day, the condescending, judging amusement in their eyes were a matching set. It came as surprise to none their marriage proved more fruitful than even their parents."

"𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴. 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦."

⸻ In a land of misty green, smiles are as sharp as blades secreted amongst the folds of robes. The line between friend and foe is as murky as the wild lands that stretch on and on, carpeted with moss and forest. Battles wage both on and off the field, either possibly ending with the right throat being slit and lands taken over. If one is not watching their own back, even the threads they don themself with shall be swiped out from under their nose.

With trust to be found sparingly, the bonds of blood hold the kingdom together. Loyalty to one's own family, to one's own mother above all else, is mandatory. None are more accursed than blood betrayers. Their blackened hearts have led to the world's greatest tragedies--has nearly brought Remiya to her knees. It is for the good of all the Bloodhunt was founded to eradicate civilized society from their poison.

┌────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┐

└────── ⋆☆⋆ ──────┘

⸻ While conflict is rife within the kingdom, a relative peace is maintained through the intricate politics of marriage. Some noble Houses have been long-time friends and allies; some were fair-weather friends who only concerned themselves with marrying as far up as they could. Others yet guard their interests better by engaging in sibling marriages. Rumors of these families practicing dark magic have long circulated but gone unproven; yet when one beholds their unnatural beauty, wholly untainted by the effects of their sin, one begins to wonder.

The most recent change in power saw radical change to the makeup of the nobility. Minor lords had their lands and properties confiscated by the Crown, their titles dissolved. They were still expected to perform their prior duties with an honorary title as consolation, yet enjoy none of the benefits. More landed nobles were not left alone, either. Their estates were broken up and spread across their own lands, as well as within pockets of others. The estates located within another lord's domain owed fealty to that lord, including providing them with taxes and armed forces, should the time arise. Suffice to say, they have grown more hesitant to be so quick to react to a slight.

┌─────── ⇦♕⇨ ───────┐

└─────── ⇦♕⇨ ───────┘

⸻ The throne of Remiya has seen many dynasties rise and fall, oft taken out in the same fashion in which they first came to power: savagely. The current dynasty sees its third generation in the seat of power. The Crownlands, in the past two decades since House Jualean, have expanded as minor lords had their lands and properties engulfed, reducing them to mere governors on what was previously their domain. Their militaries were similarly absorbed into the Crown's forces, fattening up not only the royal coffers and revenues, but their means of crushing any dissidents, as well.

King Randolph II is as wicked a man as his father and grandsire, yet lacking their qualities that made up for their failings. While Kings Randolph I and James were keen in battle, whether with Randolph's physical prowess or James's mind for strategy, Randolph II was hot-tempered, short-sighted, and sickly. Several times as he grew, his nurses believed Death had her grasp on the child, but he always shook her off with a petulant slap and vulgar insult. Now, as a young man reaping the rewards of his predecessors' hard work, he is a spoiled, vengeful king who calls for the headsman at the slightest insult. His love for sn'ukiya, a black jelly-like substance one rubs on their gums, only worsens his temper as it bombards the mind with visual and auditory hallucinations. Despite the warnings from his Councilmen, and the disdained demands from his wife and family, Randolph persists in his reckless behavior.

Without the diligence his predecessors possessed, Randolph has fallen blind to the grumblings and machinations of the aristocracy. As he hosts expensive celebration after costly jubilee, doing his enemies' work for them by keeping him and his distracted, whispers swapped in shadows speak of honing blades.

╔═══*｡❅*⋆⍋✧ ✦ ✧⍋⋆*❅｡*═══╗

╚═══*｡❅*⋆⍋✧ ✦ ✧⍋⋆*❅｡*═══╝

⸻ Well-hidden beneath the tumultuous layer of Remiyae society lay their predators. Vampires watch the humans bicker and fight, laughing at their follies and salivating when blood spills, filling the night air with its enticing scent. The common vampire, gnarled and wild as beasts, feed on the barely living scattered in the battlefields, scampering from one limp and groaning body to the next. Given their paltry diets, the humans never truly satiates the vampire's hunger. There is a thinness to it that leaves the drinker lusting for more, more, more!

Lurking amongst the upper crust, wearing cloaks of moonlight and bathed in deadly beauty, the belledatore enchant and hypnotize. Unlike their more numerous but less refined counterpart, the belledatore rely less on their superior physicality over their prey, rather their cunning and charisma. The false sense of security--even friendship--makes the blood sweeter and richer on the tongue. To aid their hunt, the belledatore have unique capabilities. A belledatore may have superior control of their voice, able to manipulate their victim on a deeper cognitive level; another may dose their victim with an inebriating chemical to keep them calm and relaxed while they feed; another could produce pheromones that draw their prey in until they are within their jaw's grasp.

The vampires have an order of their own. Their aristocracy is far more ancient than the humans could ever dream--thus they are more entrenched in their ways. The last time a major shift within the hierarchy occurred was over two millennia ago when the sun was blotted out for seven-months. The humans still tell tales of warning from those times; the vampires still reminisce over fond memories.

╭─〔❨✧✧❩〕─╮

╰─〔❨✧✧❩〕─╯

⸻ Within a realm tearing itself asunder, neighbor slaying neighbor, distrusting all one meets, another preys on its weakness. A parasite gorging itself on the weak, the ignorant, the lonely until close to bursting before turning to the next meal. Few realize what is happening--or perhaps they choose not to see.