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~
·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·
(NO SILENT READERS PLS THX)
DRAGONSTONE The sun was warm over the gardens of Dragonstone, soft rays weaving through the leaves of lemon trees and flowering vines that had begun to bloom with spring's touch. Baela sat on the grass with Vellena beneath the shade of a weeping willow, their gowns spread around them like puddles of silk. A gentle breeze played with their hair, and the air smelled of salt and rosewater.
Baela reached down, plucking a yellow bloom from the ground and rolling it between her fingers. Her gaze was somewhere distant, eyes caught between memory and ache. "I miss her," she said, barely above a whisper.
Vellena looked at her cousin, her own voice quiet with understanding. "Rhaena?"
Baela nodded. "We were never apart. Even when we were children in Pentos before mother died... we always had each other. It's strange now. Like half of me's missing."
Vellena's expression softened. She reached over, gently placing her hand over Baela's. "You'll see her again. When this is over... when the realm quiets, you'll see her."
Baela gave a short, dry laugh. "You're more hopeful than I am." She looked at Vellena then. "Promise me we won't lose each other in all of this."
"I swear it," Vellena said, tightening her hold.
·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·
A few hours later, the four of them sat beneath the gazebo near the castle. The sea breeze played with the sheer curtains around them, the sound of waves a low murmur beyond the cliffs. Rhaenyra sat at the head of the table, a pitcher of chilled wine at her elbow, while Baela sat beside Vellena, her plate filled with roasted fish, honeyed carrots, and slices of warm bread. Jace sat directly across from Vellena.
And he was watching her.
Vellena could feel his gaze, heavy and amused, like a hand constantly brushing down her spine. She kept her chin up, lips pursed as she stared pointedly at her wine. He had that insufferable grin again. The one he wore whenever he got something he wanted. He had got her just hours ago... And oh, how he was enjoying this.
Just when she was about to give in and glare at him, Rhaenyra spoke, her voice light but with curiosity beneath it.
"So... Vellena," her mother said, lifting her goblet, "I've been hearing Jace is helping you."
