Targaryens are known to have queer costumes, an unusual tradition in which the brother and sister wed each other in order to secure the line of succession as pure as possible. Well, it is not always the Targaryens that have such habits, who says tha...
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~129 A.C~ King's Landing
·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·
(NO SILENT READERS. COMMENT)
THE RED KEEP The grand feasting hall of the Red Keep was bathed in the flickering glow of countless torches and candelabras, their flames casting long shadows over the richly adorned chamber. Tapestries of Targaryen colors hung from the walls, their intricate embroidery illuminated by the golden light. The air was thick with the aroma of roasted meats, spiced wine, and honeyed fruits, yet beneath the surface of revelry lingered an undeniable tension, palpable even to the servants moving soundlessly between the tables.
King Viserys Targaryen, gaunt and weary, yet determined, sat at the head of the long oaken table, clad in his finest robes of black and red, his crown slightly askew atop his thinning silver hair. He had ordered this dinner to unite his divided house, to mend the rift between his beloved daughter Rhaenyra and his wife, Alicent. His labored breathing and tired eyes betrayed his frailty, but his presence alone commanded the attention of all.
To his right sat Queen Alicent Hightower, ever poised in her emerald-green gown, the color a silent declaration of her faction. Her auburn hair was meticulously braided, her expression one of quiet restraint as she sat beside her father Otto Hightower and her children—Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena—each of whom bore their own emotions about the night's events. Prince Daeron, the youngest and yet most victorious, was seated with a quiet confidence, his recent triumph at the tourney still fresh in his mind. His sapphire cloak, the symbol of his victory, was draped proudly over his shoulders as he occasionally stole glances toward Princess Vellena Velaryon.
On the king's left sat Princess Rhaenyra, regal in deep red and black, her Valyrian heritage evident in the proud tilt of her chin. Beside her, Prince Daemon lounged with his usual air of dangerous amusement, sipping from his goblet while his sharp eyes watched the table like a dragon assessing its prey. Rhaenyra's sons, Jacaerys and Lucerys, sat beside them, the former exchanging measured glances with Prince Aemond across the table, the memory of past grievances simmering beneath the surface.
Further down the table, Baela Targaryen, Daemon's fierce and spirited daughter, sat beside Lucerys, her silver-gold curls cascading down her back. Though close in age, Baela had always been the more outspoken, and her presence beside Luke was one of quiet support. Next to her, Jocelyn Velaryon, daughter of Rhaenys and Corlys, sat in a gown of sea-blue, her dark eyes watchful as she listened to the conversations around her. On Luke's other side, Rhaena Targaryen, Baela's twin, sat between Luke and her father, her posture more reserved but her gaze flickering toward her sister and aunt with warmth.
