Visenya Targaryen knew many things to be true. She was Harwin Strong's daughter. She was a Targaryen Princess regardless. And she was not going to marry for love.
With a war looming, Rhaenyra Targaryen must do everything in her power to strengthen h...
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Her gown was beautiful. Her tiara was exquisite and her hair although dark was in perfect Targaryen braids. She looked like a princess. And yet she couldn't bring herself to smile or to stop her hands from trembling.
'Princesses who don't smile don't get handsome princes'
Queen Alicent had whispered this to Visenya when she was a child countless times. Whispered into her ear before they entered a dining hall or a banquet. Coupled with a pointed stare and a matching one for Helaena.
But Visenya's mother had warned her that smiles were no currency for Targaryens. Tyrell heiresses and Dornish beauties could use their smiles all they liked because that was the currency they were born with. Visenya was born with fire and blood, with a dragon. She didn't need smiles. But she couldn't have smiled for all the money in the Lannister vault then.
She tugged gloves on over them and avoided Corrina and Ingrid's eyes who watched her as she dressed. Ingrid had brought water for her bath and even added the scents Visenya liked from King's Landing. Ingrid was most certainly the kinder of the two, to Visenya anyway as she admired Visenya's dress and helped her with the hundreds of buttons that ran down her spine.
"It's beautiful, your grace." Ingrid had smiled, her eyes lit with excitement as she helped Visenya step into the dress "I've never seen anything like it!"
It was ivory white, a silk and shining fabric with red embroidery along the train reminiscint of flames. Her cloak was black and hung off her shoulders like night's darkness. It was beautiful but she found herself wishing the flames were real.
Visenya dismissed them as soon as she was able, wringing her hands and pacing until Ser Jarrald knocked on the door to summon her.
She hadn't seen Lord Stark all day. After dismissing herself for bed the night before, she had been without his company. Ser Jarrald had taken her to see Ghost and her afternoon had consisted of helping Arrina study and going for a walk with Lady Stark who was unnaturally quiet.
She had asked Visenya if there was anything troubling her, anything upsetting her but apart from the obvious Visenya could think of nothing to say. She could hardly admit to her betrothed's mother that she was harbouring unwanted feelings of desire and fondness for a man who seemed to be fond of her one moment, ravenous for her another and then wanting to wrap himself around one of her lady's maids another. That she knew that most of the men in the North, especially the Lords did not yet trust her nor want her as their Lady because she had done nothing but agree to marry Lord Stark to earn their lives for her mother's cause.
Visenya's anxiety fuelled pacing was interrupted by Ser Jarrald knocking for a second time.
"I'm coming." she replied, smoothing her dress out once more in front of the mirror and admitting to herself that things could be worse. She could be marrying Otto Hightower or Larys Strong. She could even have been married to Aemond as had been her grandsire's plan.
