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~
·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·
DRAGONSTONE: The storm outside was raging, wind howling as it crashed against the cliffs below Dragonstone. But the storm inside Vellena Velaryon's chest was far fiercer.
She stormed down the hallway, her silver locks tied in a simple bun on the back of her head, her long black cloak billowing behind her, her boots slamming against the stone floor with every step. She had just heard the most infuriating, insulting, unforgivable thing, and there was only one person responsible.
She burst into Jacaerys's chambers without hesitation, the heavy wooden doors slamming open with the force of her anger.
"HOW DARE YOU?!"
Jace, sitting at his wooden table, barely flinched. His head lifted from the thick tome in his hands, his dark brows raising slightly in mild amusement rather than the fear or guilt she had hoped for.
"It's rude not to knock, haedar," he mused, his voice calm, unaffected.
Vellena marched across the chamber, her silver braid swinging behind her, and leaned forward against his table, palms pressed against the hard surface. She was so close now, her violet eyes burning into his face, but Jace still looked annoyingly composed.
"I will not be sent to the Vale."
Jace exhaled slowly and closed his book, the heavy leather cover thudding as it shut. He sat up, and suddenly, he was towering over her, his taller frame casting a shadow across the table.
"No," he said smoothly, "You will be taken there."
Vellena's nostrils flared, and she shook her head, muttering a Valyrian curse under her breath. He couldn't do this. He wouldn't.
"You can't do this," she seethed. "I have Silverwing. I am learning how to fight—"
"Yes, I can," Jace cut her off, his voice sharper now, "And I did."
For a moment, the only sound in the chamber was the crackling of the hearth and the storm beyond the windows.
Vellena's hands clenched into fists at her sides. Her teeth ground together.
"Fine," she bit out, turning swiftly toward the door. "Let's ask mother then."
Jace's brows snapped together. His jaw tensed.
"Vellena—"
But she was already striding out into the hallway, her long skirts swishing furiously with every step.
