#valourr

the ground shakes upon contact, the dragon's unique physique never lending itself to a graceful landing.   but neither dragon nor rider care, not when the target of aerion's attention comes into view.

“ cousin, ” the secondborn princeling grins by way of greeting, teeth too sharp in the midday sun.   despite the short cropped length of his hair, it's windswept within an inch of its life, adding to that element of targaryen madness that always seems to cling to aerion's skin.   both dragon and human   ( if aerion can truly be considered such )   eyes are locked onto valarr, the mare he rides —   a steady thing she is, to her credit.   she doesn't baulk at the sight of caraxes, her hooves firm beneath her as she shifts, leathers creaking.

“ the ground suits you, ”   spoken with the smooth silkiness of a compliment, but they both know it's not.   aerion doesn't bother to drop down from his saddle, to put himself on valarr's level, instead leaning forward against the pommel with a carefree air.   caraxes' whistle ripples through the world again as if in amusement.

“ fancy a race ? or is that pampered mule of yours simply not up to the task ? ”

from dawn to the later hours of the morrow, kira had been in the greenvault with no one but her beloved mare as company, riding through the woods that bleed into the overgrowth that encompasses the entirety of serault. it was not unusual in her routine to be out in the woods, but what was quite strange to the stable hands had been how early the lady had risen. she has had much on her mind as of late, ever since the arrival of one prince of the realm to the marquisate, despite the diplomatic reasons for his sojourn. it is no secret that kira loved serault; enough so that she had been the one governing the land in all but title, for the seat still remained in the possession of the kind and elderly lord briar. her hard work, her blood and her efforts, to make serault stand as proudly as it does to that day. the marquisate in dorne had been more of a home to her than the halls of yronwood had ever been. she wanted nothing more than to see it prosper, and it was one of the most affluent sources of the crown's coin as of late. it is why she had greeted the prince's sudden visit with such skepticism.

she returned, fresh from the woods, and giving a pouch full of herbs picked herself to one of her maids who knew exactly what the lady intended to use them for later. it was only when she observed the hall below from the banister did she see him again : prince valarr, in the company of lord briar. in her eyes, valarr carried himself every bit worthy of his title, as though the gods themselves would have no other fate for him. the old man with white hair had welcomed him all too openly when he first arrived. kira had been there, a few steps behind ... staring, the same way the ravens seemed to. one might have mistaken it for being awestruck by the prince if not for the furrow between her brows and the downward curve of her lips.

the very same that graced her features once more, as she stared at him from above, forearms braced against the stone. she does not know what to make of the prince. not yet.

it does not surprise her when valarr had turned to look her, meeting his gaze without so much as a blink. she knew it must have been strange, to be caught staring once more. and yet, she does not remedy it. in her eyes, he was still a piece that had made its way onto her board with intentions unclear beneath what he has said. a representative of the crown, but undoubtedly here to take rather than give. that is the reason behind her frown, and the narrowing of her eyes as she looked at him. she had said nothing, but was the first to break away and turn on her heel, until only the echoes remained to fade away.

❛ i pray that you forgive the young lady, my prince. ❜ lord briar had said in her absence. for she certainly would not ask him herself. ❛ she is to succeed me, when my time comes to pass. there is none quite as watchful of serault than kira ... ❜

                        “    I    SEE,    ”    ANNE    REMARKED,    UNABLE    TO    DENY    SUCH    A    TRUTH.    GOOD    LOOKS    COULD    CARRY    ONE    FURTHER.    AT    LEAST,    TO    AN    EXTENT.   THOSE    BLESSED    WITH    ENCHANTING    LOOKS    WERE    FORTUNATE.     “    BEAUTY    IS    NOT    MERELY    SKIN    DEEP,    HOWEVER—    ”    SHE    TELLS    HIM.    KINDNESS    WAS    NOT    EARNED    FROM    ONE’S    APPEARANCE    ALONE.   “    TO    BE    TRULY    BEAUTIFUL,    ONE    MUST    REFLECT    INWARDLY,    SHOULD    THEY    NOT?    ”    SHE    QUESTIONED,    CURIOUS    FOR    HIS    THOUGHTS.    INTERESTED    IN    LEARNING    MORE    ABOUT    HIM.    “    THAT    IS    WHERE    I’VE    BEEN    TOLD    THAT    MY    BEAUTY    STEMS,    ”     A    SMALL    SMILE    FORMS    UPON    LIPS.   

“    IT    IS    NOT    A    BAD    THING,    OF    COURSE,    ”    SHE    EXPLAINED,    WORRYING    THAT    HE    WOULD    FEEL    THE    NEED    TO    SAY    SOMETHING.    “    MY    PASSION,    DETERMINATION,    AND    LONGING    FOR    GOOD…    ”    ALL    THINGS    IN    WHICH    SHE    PRIDES    HERSELF    FOR.    “    ANYHOW.    THAT’S    NOT    WHAT    YOU    WERE    REFERRING    TO,    ”    HER    ATTENTION    SHIFTS    BACK    TO    HIM.    “    IS    THAT    WHAT    IT    HAS    DONE    FOR    YOU?    FOUND    YOU    HEARTH    AND    KINDNESS?    YOUR    BEAUTY…    ”

he has not come to her like this in quite some time. when valarr was young, when he was still learning to walk and even a few years after, the young prince was never found very far from jena ; he had trailed after her and hidden behind her skirts whenever a stranger passed. for a while, she had thought her eldest son was more of a sweet soul, taken after her more than baelor. not to say baelor could not be sweet, but there was a time and place for such.

now that he is grown, a man more than child and a whole head taller than her, jena has to lean up to her toes to place a kiss to her forehead. " my darling. " she begins, a soft smile on pink lips, a brush of hand against his cheek as jena had done multiple times when he was a boy. every time she looks to him, she sees him at five, seven, at ten. never at the man that seems to share her and baelor's features equally. she wonders, not for the first time, if the daughters she'd never had would have taken after herself or baelor, or one of their brothers.

He was leaving. He was leaving and she did not know when she would return. If he would return. There mere thought filled her with a sense of panic and she had begged him not to go, had begged him to stay with her. Alas, it had been futile. Tears began to fill her eyes.

@valourr : "Shed no tears for me, I will be back before you know it."

Standing by the window, Dyanna looked outside. Rain was falling softly, another reminder of the deep sorrow that filled the halls of the castle. Her husband was lost in his own grief and her heart was aching too. Still, she wanted to be there for her nephews and so she insisted on spending time with them. Daella and Rhae were with Matarys but it was Valarr she had not seen in a while. 'Please send him to me, should you see him,' she had instructed a servant.

@valourr : "You were looking for me?"

Dyanna was tending to her little garden, taking care of the flowers that had started blooming merely a week ago. With Baelor visiting with his sons, she had decided to take the children outside with her to give the men some space to talk. It did not surprise her that the boys were quick to take off and busy themselves with games instead of staying with her but she did not mind. Rhae and Daella were tending to their own little garden patch.

@valourr : "Where is everyone else?"

Unconsciously, she was humming softly as her fingers worked swiftly. She was tying knots, one after another, and wove some flowers right into them. Her work was swift and seemed so effortless but it took a great deal of concentration. Still, it something she did well; something that was useful.

@valourr : "Who taught you that?"