After enduring a loveless marriage for many years, the Rogue Prince was believed to be incapable of fathering a child with his Bronze Bitch. However, a miraculous event shatters this notion with the birth of Vhaela Targaryen. Raised in the confines...
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^Above is art of Vhaela I had commissioned by chocologicalart^
Chapter Twenty-Nine: The Twat
Vhaela Targaryen
A smile adorns my face as I pull up the pants that were freshly made for me. They are slightly tight as the fabric hugs my legs. It felt slightly weird from always wearing flowy dresses. But tonight, Tarik was going to train me in the training yard.
He thought it would be a good way to get out some of my aggression. I could not agree more. But I honestly just wanted to be able to beat up Jace when the time came. For now, I will patiently learn and take out my anger on the poor straw men.
I then walk over to my bed where a black shirt lays out for me. I quickly pull it down my head and pull the sleeves into my arms. The shirt is slightly baggy on me, and my hands do not reach outside the sleeve. It causes me to swing around the access fabric from side to side.
A light chuckle emits from me from watching the fabric. I then take my hand and slowly start to roll up the sleeves until they are right above my elbow. With that fixed, I then head over to my desk table that holds the dagger that I received on my nameday.
I slide it on the belt holder on my waist and make sure it is secured tightly. I then turn around and head towards my chamber door to meet Tarik outside. As soon as I exit, I spot him with his short cropped blonde hair.
His aging face gives me a warm smile and a low bow of his head. I give him a warm smile in return and then rush off toward the hallways in the direction of the training yard. The heavy steps of Tarik sound behind me at a rapid pace.
We pass by servants who give me a soft bow of their heads as I rush by. I weave and dodge some that hold a multitude of things in their arms. I turn my head back and find Tarik chasing behind me with heavy breaths.
A light laugh escapes me as I rush outside into the courtyard. I slide my feet against the dirt and come to a stop in the middle of the yard. There is hardly anyone here training at this late of an hour. The sun is still up but will soon start to fade over the horizon.
At the thought of the night appearing a huge smile appears on my face. Aemond was going to be coming tonight. It would be the fourth time he has visited me in the past three moons. I always look forward to him coming.
It reminded me of old times.
I then make my way over to the stand that holds all the wooden sparring swords. I quickly make my way to grab one and grip the handle tightly in my right hand. The weight of the sword is heavy to hold and causes my arm to be slow in movement.
My head then turns to face Tarik who stares at me with a hint of laughter in his eyes.
