Blood of Dragons ||HotD||

FOUR|DYRON

Dyron had been shown to a guest chamber in the Red Keep, with the rest of his family. Dyron was studying the tapestries on the wall.

"If you were now hoping to catch a glimpse of a full grown dragon within the corridors of the great and known Red Keep, I can assure you, that you will be sorely now disappointed in that regard, Hill." Dyron looked over at the shadow on the wall as then swiftly, as the shadow came closer.

Now it was Princess Visenya now, who was walking the corridor and she was shaking her head. "Shall I leave you, Princess?" Dyron questioned as now, Visenya was shaking her head silently.

"I have intruded on your quiet contemplation, Dyron Hill, it is I who should leave." Visenya replied as she looked at the tapestry on the wall.

It was meant to be a tapestry of Old Valyria before the Doom and Visenya looked at the dragons, that flew across the fabric of the tapestries as now, she was shaking her head.

"I lost my mother too." Dyron spoke without thinking and Visenya looked over at him with lifted eyebrows and he sighed. "My reward was living in a stable, quite a different situation, that you have wandered into now, in the present moment, by no fault of your own. Are you all right?" He asked and her jaw tightened and she moved her head up with a defiant tilt to her chin, that he recognized.

Dyron saw the look on his own face since his mother in the mirror enough and he nodded. "No words will be necessary." He said as he turned back to look at the tapestry.

"You must have the same look. You must be used to not showing emotions to anyone, despite how hard they must push." Visenya spoke up with a slight tone of sadness in her voice, but, she was surprisingly steady.

"You mean, because I am an acknowledged bastard?" Dyron questioned and she inclined her head in a swift nod. "I call it, my Face of Steel. It is a way to protect myself by rather, not showing anything at all."

"Perhaps, I shall even coin the particular term in King's Landing. You are a bastard who knows his history of Westeros when he does not have to, Dyron Hill. So why would you choose for yourself to study? Knowing full well in your heart and mind, that hardly any of the others would expect you to do anything of the sort?" Visenya questioned and Dyron looked over at her again.

"For precisely that same reason, my Princess. You presume correct that all the nobles and the vassals will laugh at my attempts, therefore, they will not bother having any time to waste on me. They believe, every one of them in Lannisport and others, that I am beneath them and I allow them to believe it. They do not expect me to try, therefore, I work thrice as hard to prove them all wrong." Dyron replied to her and he noticed now, that in the darkness, her darker purple eyes look almost black while her white hair was shining like a pale moon in shadow of the torchlight in the hall.

"Your legitimacy may still be in question, Dyron, but my father will surely honor his word. After all now, I would imagine that since Mirax did not tear you in two, that alone is a very good thing." Visenya spoke and with an awkward air, she performed a half curtesy and nearly fell on her face.

"I thought here, that I was the one who was supposed to bow to you, my Princess." Dyron replied as swiftly she was raising her eyebrows right before he bowed and neatly toppled over. "I could hazard a guess, that mine needs work as well." Dyron replied from his new position on the floor and she was shaking her head at him.

Dyron swiftly got up onto his feet again and by the time he had gotten up, Visenya had slipped away again.

Dyron walked back down the endlessly confusing corridors, only to finally find his way now to the training yard.