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It is currently WINTER in WESTEROS during the year 303 AC. The new moon cycle marks a full twenty years since the Mad King was murdered, and his son King Rhaegar ascended the Iron Throne in his place. Though the year is fresh, war in the Narrow Sea has left the Free Cities of Volantis and Tyrosh in ashes, and the Long Night continues to beckon from the Northern fringes of the Seven Kingdoms. With the Queen Lyanna presumed dead, the citizens of the realms look only to each other for survival.
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 Never knew that it could be so good,, Tag Visenya
Aegon Targaryen
 Posted: Mar 27 2018, 01:05 AM
Quote
Laurie is Offline
21 years old
CROWNLANDS
The Iron Throne
Targaryen
Dragonstone
Prince


Aegon looked across the room, his private solar stood as one of his only spots of solace since the beginning of this forsaken war. The dome overhead letting in the light of the growing moon, and the fire stoked to bask the room in its light. He stared to the other chaise, where his sister sat with her hands on edge. And he stared. The young prince absorbed the features of his sister-wife, the woman he had waited so many years to see married, in the warmth of the fire's flicker. His shoulder was bandaged, and healing well enough that he used the very same arm to reach out to the small table, daring the weight of the carafe of wine. He filled his glass, and topped the one that belonged to her as well. It sat between the two, every now and again lounging in her hand.

Something had changed about her face, though he supposed he had been gone just long enough to miss the details of it. The points of her face seemed higher through the bulge of her cheekbones and the edge of her chin, almost as if they dipped where they might have remained fleshed before - he supposed war did that to one due to the stress. Perhaps, she wasn't eating enough, he thought, musing to the idea of sending for a servant and some plate to sate their evening hunger.

Tyrosh had been a success, much more than Volantis, and restored a semblance of their normalcy to his life. As his shoulder continued to patch the hole placed by the archers of Volantis in their shots of him from the sky, he began to regain his appetite. And his stomach for war, rulings, and dispensing of justice. It had been odd though, his sister so usually tied to his side had been rather absent. "Visenya," He called her name, feeling as though a whole room stood between them instead of a small, body length of skinned rug.

"You.." He started, trying to gather his own thoughts. Aegon pushed the brushed mess of silver-gold locks behind one ear, "You're different in someway, are you eating enough?" He knew the question was like to draw and attitude from her, which in some ways was what he was looking for. He wanted and indication of her, strong in spirit, sitting near him. "It's the cheeks, I think," He continued, wondering how they looked when beside each other. Was he as gaunt as she appeared?




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VISENYA TARGARYEN
 Posted: Jul 8 2018, 09:44 PM
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nica is Offline
19 years old
CROWNLANDS
targaryen
targaryen
dragonstone
princess


The silence had the feeling of still waters. Glassy, dreamlike, reflective of their world and of Visenya's own mental state. Visenya almost feared to breathe, lest she disturb the air, bringing the mirrored dreamworld crashing down like glass. But she needn't fear being the one to send ripples across the still room as her husband spoke, his words sounding harsh to one accustomed to silence. As the stillness of the room dissipated, Visenya lifted a glassy violet gaze from her cup of Arbor red to meet Aegon's searching look. The nausea that had plagued her that morning had dissipated, replaced by a feeling that Visenya could only describe as curiously empty. Perhaps 'empty' wasn't the word. Rather, it was as if she contained a void within her abdomen, a lightless place. Realization had taken the Dark Princess longer than she would have cared to admit; undoubtedly, it was her maids who realized first; noticing, whispering among themselves when the clothes soiled with her moon's blood were late. And then non-existent.

The princess stirred again, remembering that Aegon had called her name. "Aegon," she replied, forcing warmth into the syllables, a conscious effort at play to soften her own gaze and to melt the ice that rimed her visage. It was an irony, the facade she'd taken years to hone was now more than a mask; it was becoming a part of her. "I'm eating," Vis replied, the words rather droll, the humor as dry as a Dornish sirocco. "Enough? That's debatable. The real issue is whether it remains in my stomach." It would have been admirable for Visenya to avoid making a face at his next words. 'It's the cheeks.' As it was, she wasn't able to maintain that level of composure, her immediate response an unladylike twist of her lips, followed by the Princess comically inflating her cheeks, looking rather like a bullfrog. "Is that better?" she jested, before exhaling deeply and seeming to deflate in her chair.

It was time.

Perhaps in another time, another place, the news would be welcome. Would be greeted by feast and song. But their world was not that place. Clouds grew in the north, propelled by icy winds, and the clouds across the Narrow Sea were black with smoke. For one blessed by an oft-silvered tongue, it was remarkably difficult for Visenya to find her next words. "The truth is," she began, knowing the syllables would restore that silence so akin to still water; tense, waiting for the splash. "My moon's blood has not come." She paused again, this time, not for lack of words to say, but rather for emphasis. To give her next syllables greater weight; for each ripple to be resounding as they broke the silence. "It's been nearly five months." Visenya braced herself in her seat, waiting for the storm to come, the only nerves that displayed in her figure apparent in the way she bit the inside of her lips and eyed her husband warily.

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Aegon Targaryen
 Posted: Jul 14 2018, 11:51 PM
Quote
Laurie is Offline
21 years old
CROWNLANDS
The Iron Throne
Targaryen
Dragonstone
Prince



Aegon stared at her, with eyes that echoed the call of concern in his voice. He didn’t know what he expected her to say, he just wanted her to say something. Anything, he half pleaded with the gods for some answer to linger on her tongue. They had rarely dared to speak to each other since his return, there was a dark part of him that taunted at this point, wondering if she had even wanted his warmth to find its way back to the Red Keep.

She pushed forth from her lips his name, reacting to him as if he were an overbearing mother. Or perhaps, more like a Septa and less like the mother they had shared throughout their young lives. One of his dark brows lifted at the comment, a turn in the corner of his lips downwards. “Are you drinking so much that…” He began with skepticism and an even larger twist to his features, knowing she had never been the type to wine herself into the privy. His words faded off, about to be directed to another thought and reason, before her cheeks expanded. Wide and round, rounder than he had ever seen them before. “That might be better,” Aegon began with a laugh, bringing his cup to his lips, “But I think you might still have a ways to go.” His lid on one eye sank down into a wink over its lavender iris, a little light returning to the worried face. He let his breath release through a stifled chuckle. In truth, he was sure he looked wearier too, though he had tried to maintain his comely appearance more than one should in a time of crisis. He had worked his muscles sorer than ever, kept his face clean and groomed, and had tamed the strands of his hair with more diligence than ever.

He chest deflated, and it was if she were trying to place her breast upon the back of her chair. It sank more than it should, he thought her shoulders even gave a dip down. He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, or if her upset was truly there. The stress, he thought, had made him emotional. This wasn’t the first time he had found himself anxious in the last few moons turns, or more sensitive to the movements of those around him. And then she began, the silence that had formed from her exhale was followed by the start of something he had not expected.

Her moon’s blood, “Gods,” He said aloud through his own heavy exhale. There was a tingle in the young prince’s chest, a weight that both was dropped into it suddenly and rattled around frantically. “Your moon’s blood… so, we are with… child?” The words came hard. He thought of all the years they had cautioned against the idea, the two intimate and yet unwed, a realm unready to accept the child of their union, especially if yet unsanctioned. “A child,” The thought repeated itself again aloud, even as she continued to voice the next words. Ones he practically didn’t hear, didn’t compute beyond the growing joy in his core. He looked to his sister-wife with an adoration his gaze had never known, “My strong beauty, the she-dragon that flies beside me, carrying our babe.” Aegon almost leapt, well, he rather did, from his chair and reached for her hand across the small gap of table between them that homed their wine. He looked to her bitten lip, nerves mistaken for the life event announcement, “This is wonderful! Are you not happy, my love? I know that this is the least ideal time,” His mind went to the war that threatened their door and now growing occupants behind it, “But we will make due. Hard times can only grow an even stronger heir.

He thought of his father’s face, what it would look like all alight at the news of his first grandchild. It was a shame Lyanna would not be around, she would have spoiled the little wyrmling rotten once peace came again. He thought briefly, of how his father had been born in tragedy, and he had endured his own carriage and birth in war. War, and that was the click of her final words. War. His elation dropped, the grin dropping slowly, “Your moon’s blood has been absent for five months.” He felt a twinge in his extended hand, the pinch of the wound at the shoulder from the war he had been in. That she had been in. “When did you realize it, Visenya?” He stood from the cushion he had occupied, “Did you know before you left for Volantis?” He felt a rise in him. Thinking of his own mother again, sure, his mother had carried in times of war, but she hadn’t bloody damn flew herself right into the middle of it to fight. He shook her head, feeling as if he already knew her answer.

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