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 Days later, a strong wind howled across Dragonstone, and the ravens arrived with the much-anticipated letters from Winterfell. The letters were hand-delivered to each recipient by the ravenkeepers, their black feathers a stark contrast against the grey stone walls of the castle. Each member of the family received their letter at different times during the day, and their reactions varied from laughter to quiet reflection.
Rhaenys sat by the fire in her solar, her mind weighed down by the tension of the upcoming decisions. As the letter from Jocelyn was handed to her, she gave a quiet sigh of relief, almost as if the familiar handwriting was a balm to her weary spirit. She opened the letter carefully, her eyes softening as she read her daughter's words.
"Winterfell is cold, but I am warm..."
The warmth of Jocelyn's words wrapped around her like a familiar embrace. Rhaenys let out a soft laugh at her daughter's teasing tone about Cregan Stark, her heart swelling with a mixture of pride and amusement.
"Oh, Jocelyn," she murmured under her breath, setting the letter down for a moment. Her gaze drifted to the flame, her mind wandering to memories of her own youth and the warmth of her family.
Rhaenys' fingers lightly traced the edge of the letter, and though her heart felt heavy with the absence of her children, Jocelyn's words provided a temporary solace. She knew her daughter was strong, capable, and thriving in the North. It would be a comfort, when the time came, to see her again.
"I am glad she is well," Rhaenys said softly, feeling a flicker of peace for the first time in days. She folded the letter carefully, placing it in her lap before gazing out toward the sea.
Baela had spent the morning on the battlements, feeling the crisp sea air tug at her hair, when a servant handed her the letter from Winterfell. With a quick glance at the seal, Baela grinned, recognizing her aunt's unmistakable handwriting. She made her way back to her chambers, eagerly tearing open the letter.
"I think you would be pleased to know that I am being treated well—perhaps too well, if Lord Cregan's generosity is anything to go by."
Baela chuckled aloud, shaking her head at her aunt's playful tone. She could easily picture Jocelyn enjoying the Northern hospitality and making light of it, even amid the cold. As she read further, her smile widened, especially at the mention of Jocelyn's new horse and her name, Ember.
By the time she finished reading, Baela felt an aching homesickness but also an overwhelming sense of pride for her family. She knew that no matter the distance, Jocelyn was just as fierce and full of life as always.
