² 𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐃 ━━ rhaenyra targaryen

𝟎𝟎𝟏. outcast of a child

I. My love, all mine
Rhaenyra Targaryen x Ariyanna Hawthorne

—

THE HAWTHORNE TWINS WERE CLOSE. So to speak. They were siblings as they were connected by family and blood, there wasn't anything Nathar wouldn't do for his sister and the same could be said for Ariyanna for her brother. Adults and children alike envy them for they get to live in the Red Keep even if they were at the very bottom of the list on who gets to inherit the throne, just like how most people envied the Hawthorne ancestral line.

     They were born with a dragon egg in their cradle and the very day and moment Ariyanna had opened her light grey eyes, it cracked open and a small, white dragon had emerged from its egg with blue eyes and a tail that wrapped around its figure. It snarls lightly when Ariyanna's father tried to pick it up but curled besides the cradle where Ariyanna was yawning.

     Nathar's, however, still hasn't cracked open and remained without a dragon much to his disappointment.

     "Have you done your reading?"

     Her penmanship was excellent, her aunt, Marya Hawthorne would keep a close eye to her studies and education, taken on the role of being a mother to her since the late Arthesyst died giving birth to her son. Though nobody blamed Nathar, people in Lairestone whispered in their isle that he should not have survived if it meant the fall of their Princess.

     Lairestone is a steep and large isle near the Vale and just above Widow's watch. It was an island filled of the Hawthorne soldiers and loyalists, born and raised there to be soldiers and ladies who would someday go forth in Westeros to become someone that is known and admired of. If ever there were a battle that needs of heavy assistance, the Prince of the Lairestone, Lord Bryllden, would as easily command them to his side for any fights that threatens the throne and his family.

     The next Prince to inherit Lairestone would pass on to Nathar Hawthorne, as Bryllen would often remind him. Sometimes a little too much that sparks infuriation in Ariyanna's young and honorable heart. Though she is only nine, she felt the weight on her shoulders beginning to drag her down the dirt and she would never allow that to happen. Not when she had the strength and memory of her mother living inside her, she would not disappoint.

     "I don't see my brother doing his reading." Ariyanna replies with an unflattered and bored tone, sitting on the chair with her legs crossed and leaned back as if she isn't a Princess born at all.

     Marya Hawthorne often blames herself for passing on the knowledge of her sister by law's blatant attitude to her only niece who had inherited that as well. Only as a child, of course. When the late lady Arthesyst grew of age and maturely, she was a true born Princess and wife to her husband. It is why the people of Lairestone honored her and it is why they adore Ariyanna who is the exect replica of her.

     "Your brother is far too busy being a man to make your father proud." Marya tells her honestly before brushing aside the stacks of book on the table and her other hand holding onto her showing belly. "Besides, I am sure you wouldn't want your dress to get filthy with all the trainings he does with your father. Fighting is a nuisance women don't have. It's what makes it a privilege to us."

     As months passed, the days Marya had last seen her husband increased. There was lingering hatred she harbored for the King for it was Viserys who sent his brother away, opting to follow whatever Otto Hightower would advise him to tell. Because of him, Marya could not see her beloved, forced to deal with this pregnancy she prayed to be successful day and night. She had high hopes for a boy and a healthy one. Even if the curse is true, she only wished her babe would survive, even if it means she wouldn't.