𝐃𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍, 𝖺𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗀𝖺𝗋𝗒𝖾𝗇

twelve

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•.° DAUGHTER OF THE DRAGON °.•
chapter twelve

AENORA LOVED THE LITTLE lemur that her brother gave her. She adored it. The Queen loved the little creature as well, ordering the cooks to make biscuits and bread for the creature every evening when Aenora came to visit for their supper. Aenora hated it, arguing that she'd grow fat and lazy as soon as she grew used to it.

The Princess, however, did very little to save the animal from becoming spoiled. The little lemur would oft be seen wearing tiny silk skirts and pearl necklaces.

"Daor, Valyria." Princess Alyssa grabbed the lemur from the table and threw her on the bed. The lemur- whom Aenora had named Valyria, in honour of the long gone Empire- made a noise and landed on her paws.

"I was looking for you," The darling of the Realm smiled at her older sister and watched as the lemur climbed on the dark, wooden poles surrounding her bed, making monkey-like noises while doing so. "She's fast, isn't she?"

Princess Alyssa Targaryen did not, however, return her sister's lively look. "Why do you always do this?" Alyssa, unlike her twin, was never much fond of smiling just for the sake of it.

"Do what, exactly?" Aenora smiled as Valyria jumped up and down as she saw her owner made her way over to her. "Come. Valyria." She stretched out her hand for the sweet lemour to jump on. And Valyria did.

"Speak in High Valyrian. You always do it, and yet you never fail to confuse your words, like me and father." Alyssa rolled her eyes, the pale yellow flame of the candle burning in her blue and green eyes. "It is almost insufferable. You never fail to be perfect. And the Realm loves you for it."

"I do make mistakes, but I do it at night-time, in my bed, when I am reading my books and widening my knowledge of our mother tongue. Speaking High Valyrian is a sacred act in our culture. And I intend to honour it, whilst also honouring the culture of the Andals. I am not perfect, I make mistakes. But I learn from them, whilst you and father merely cover them up. . . or seek wisdom in wine," Aenora spoke the last part with a chucking voice, taking an orange from the fruit basket on the table.

"Me and father are quite content drowning our mistakes in wine." Alyssa scroffted.

"Of course you are." Aenora added to her sister's murmor. "I never knew what draws you to drink. The taste is so unpleasant, it makes me wish to puke."

"So does the stink of Flea Bottom, yet you stroll through the streets each morning."

The silver haired sister nodded and pointed a finger at her golden haired elder. "Fair point."

"Ne vaes mautar." Alyssa said in a language long forgotten, spoken only by less than a dozen people in the Seven Kingdoms. The adoration in her voice was so fragile, like a shattered heart. Yet as strong and true as her love for riding.

"Claeturiamus, soror." Aenora replied. "I love you too," she whispered in the common tongue, peeling the orange and feeding it to Valyria.

"Have I told you Aemon injured himself whilst hunting?" Princess Alyssa was quick to stray away from the conversation. The lone, blue orchid on the table catching her attention. "Where did you get this?"

It was no secret to anyone in the Red Keep that Alyssa Targaryen favoured blue over any other colour, as it reminded her of her connection to the sky. However, it was a secret that she liked flowers. Alyssa, whom had always dressed in boyish clothes, drank as much as wine and mead as any man, and whom prefered the company of boys rather than her own sex.