the two-headed dragon (a. targaryen)

CHAPTER III

"IKSAN DĀRILAROS VAERA, brōzi ēlie ñuho, hen Velaryon Lentor. Ñuha muña iksis se Pāletilla Dārilaros Rhaenyra hen Targārien Lentor, se ñuha kepa íksis Ser Laenor hen Velaryon Lentor." I am Princess Vaera, first of my name, of House Velaryon. My mother is Crown Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, and my father is Ser Laenor of House Velaryon.

"Iksis, Princess," came Maester Orwyle's correction.

"Yes, sorry. Iksis, iksis, iksis..." Vaera hissed under her breath, trying to internalize the correction.

Her High Valyrian lesson seemed to stretch infinitely, and Vaera began to think that there wasn't an end in sight. She looked longingly towards the window where she knew her brothers and uncles would be training with the sword. She longed to be out there - well, anywhere but where she was.

"Are you paying attention, Princess?" asked the Maester.

Vaera's head snapped away from the window, and she smiled nervously. "Of course. Sorry, Maester."

Before he could continue the lesson, the door to the library opened, and in walked Ser Laenor. Vaera immediately stood from her desk. "Kepa!"

"Good morrow, tala," Laenor smiled. "Apologies, Maester, but the Princess' lessons must be cut short. The King has requested her presence in the training yard."

Vaera gasped, clasping her hands together at her chest. "He has?!"

Laenor winked at his daughter. "Indeed. Come, we must make haste!"

Vaera quickly said her thank yous to the Maester and grabbed her father's hand, giggling the entire time way from the library to the balcony of the training yard. When they arrived, King Viserys was sitting at the balcony, joined by his Hand, Lord Lyonel Strong. The weary king visibly brightened by the sight of his only granddaughter. He raised his frail hand, beckoning the girl over to him.

"Ah, there's the little princess," the King greeted.

Vaera curtsied. "Grandsire," she said with a sweet smile.

King Viserys gave Laenor a dismissive nod. "Thank you, Ser Laenor," he said.

Laenor bowed his head respectfully. "Your Grace." He gave Vaera another wink, making her giggle once more before he left.

King Viserys beckoned Vaera into his embrace, and he lifted her into his lap with shaky arms. "Now, little princess, do you know why I brought you here?" he asked. Vaera shook her head. "Look at your brothers and uncles," he told her. Vaera obliged, peering down into the training yard where Jace, Luke, Aegon and Aemond trained under Ser Criston Cole. They took turns attacking straw dummies, their wooden swords clacking together on impact. Ser Criston oversaw all four boys, yet he only gave corrections to Aegon and Aemond. King Viserys watched as Vaera's eyes danced between the princes. "Would you like to train with the sword? Learn the art of combat?"

Vaera nervously looked between the King and the Lord Hand, who poorly concealed the judgement on his face at the notion of a girl wielding a sword. Still, she nodded, making the King laugh.

"This is the stuff, isn't it, Lyonel?" asked the King. "Lads that learn together, train together; knock each other down, pick each other up... They will certainly form a lifelong bond, don't you think?"

Vaera frowned. The way Aegon shoulder checked Jace was certainly not indicative of a lifelong bond.

"That is the hope, Your Grace," Lord Lyonel said hesitantly.

Down in the training yard, a new spar began between Aegon, Aemond, and Ser Criston. Vaera's frown deepened. "Surely two against one is unfair, Grandsire," she said anxiously.