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 midday sun cast a warm glow through the windows of Queen Rhaenyra's solar, though inside, the air was heavy with sorrow. The chamber was quiet, save for the faint rustling of fabric and the occasional soft sniffle from the Queen.
Rhaenyra sat still as stone, her fingers delicately tracing over the small wooden dragons and carved knights scattered across the table. They had once belonged to her young sons—Joffrey, Aegon, and Viserys.
Now, they were gone.
Safe in the Vale, under the protection of Lady Jeyne Arryn.
Safe. That was what she told herself. But safe was not the same as being in her arms.
Her shoulders trembled as tears spilled silently down her cheeks.
A soft voice broke through her grief.
"Mother?"
Rhaenyra jolted slightly, startled, and hurriedly wiped at her face before looking up.
Vellena.
Her daughter stood in the doorway, her silver braid draped over one shoulder, her violet eyes filled with concern.
"Vellena," Rhaenyra murmured, straightening in her chair. She tried to collect herself, to school her expression into something more composed. "What—has something happened?"
Vellena stepped closer, her gaze flickering to the wooden toys before settling back on her mother.
"Nothing..."
She didn't need to ask. She knew why Rhaenyra wept.
Without hesitation, Vellena rested a comforting hand on her mother's shoulder.
Rhaenyra looked up at her daughter, her expression fragile in a way so few had ever seen. Her grief was not for a crown, not for war, but for something far more painful—a mother's longing for her children.
Vellena stood by her side, wrapping her arms around her mother in a tight embrace. Rhaenyra exhaled shakily, resting her head against her daughter's stomach, closing her eyes as she clung to the warmth of her child.
"Will we see them again?"
The words came as a whisper, choked with quiet despair.
