Start-30/07/24
You won't like what I've become.
Naerys Targaryen was exiled to Dorne at the mere age of four, by none other than her Lord Father Viserys Targaryen.
After her mother's beheading, the fire that fuels her breath turns into something...
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Prince Qoren Martell and the Princess Cleora had four children. When his brother Rhoyvan had died on his wedding night. The title of Lord of The Sunspear was immediately passed on to the second son. Just as fast, his betrothed the Lady Cleora, daughter of one of the most powerful Lords in the Sunspear, was wed to the Prince. Their eldest daughter, Aliandra was born two years before Naerys while her mother still occupied a bed in their home. Cleora often told Naerys how good Naesanne was with children, and that she would have been a good mother if the circumstances didn't change the tides.
Aliandra was kind, a good hearted young Lady who shared her Father's sharp tongue and quick wit. Most of all she inherited her mother's rich curls and bronze complexion. Something Naerys was often jealous of compared to her ashen hair and violet eyes. Aliandra looked so natural, and along with the markings on Naerys' face she couldn't look more beastly.
A few months after Naerys was born they had a son, Qyle. A very built young man who valued his spear over a cup of wine. He was too, kind, not that Cleora would allow any of her children to be disrespectful. Qyle would often take Naerys' hand in their family feasts or at celebrations and name days.
When Naerys was eight, the baby Coryanne was welcomed into the world. Now a girl of ten and two, the girl was a stunning bronze beauty like her older sister Aliandra.
Just short of a year ago, the babe Jiara was born. A sickly child when she was young, but soon got over the illness after Maesters tended to her needs. Which is why the whole family were petrified when that foul man attempted to kill the babe in her crib. He got as far as the balcony curtains when a nurse who was tending to Jiara cried out for help. Luckily, the guards stationed outside her room were able to take care of the business.
Qoren had heard of how the Blood Magic rituals of his personal healer Myra went. And he wanted the man to have a fearful death for attempting the act.
Myra had been employed by the Martells just after Naesanne was called to court. A teacher, healer and well used for personal confidence amongst the Lord of the Sunspear.
Qoren gave leave for Myra to educate the Targaryen girl in the ways of her ancestors. It seemed only right when the young girl had been placed in their hands just as Myra was there. He was a strong believer in destiny and nothing seemed to fit any better.
Naerys marched through the halls of her home. The ride over had been swift, and Naerys made sure to keep her head down when passing the townspeople.
She couldn't be sure if the markings on her face were still prominent, as much as she would have loved to go and check in the mirror and freshen up. Qoren did not often like waiting too long, especially with the events that recently occurred. His patience would be wearing thin, despite being a good man. When Qoren wanted something, it seldom never happened.
Naerys entered onto a balcony where Qoren's seat was located. She took time admiring the shrubbery and wild flowers as her feet guided the girl through the long balcony. The gardener did good work, even the fountains were decorated in water Lillies and vines stretched about the rim. It was truly beautiful, and Cleora often stressed that the climates North didn't offer a habitat for such flowers. Not that Naerys remembered much of the keep she used to live in. But the parts she could recall were full and unwelcoming. No pretty flowers to be seen.
