vhaenessavelaryon

[vhaenessavelaryon]

Rumor is that several of Rhaenys Targaryen and Corlys Velaryon's children exhibit signs of madness. The entire bloodline is tainted.

| @deimos-velaryon @vaegonvelaryon @vhaenessavelaryon @mourningblood |

#|| whispers || #bc vhae 10000% reads these and has sent in things sdfgh

[vhaenessavelaryon]

Vhanessa had always thought she carried her drink far better than Vaegon, despite how deeply she drank from her cups -- but even The Siren could not help the honey-and-venom laughter that fell from her red-painted lips. She lounged lazily in her dining chair, legs crossed over one another in such a way that sent the liquid-like fabric of her dress spilling into a waterfall of Velaryon colors upon the floor.

Despite the roaring fires in Driftmark's great hall, their father's treasures and trophies lining the walls, the flames… most of them had quieted to a hiss rather than their constant whispers, and some had gone silent all together. In the presence of her family that night, for once? Vhaenessa found herself nearly forgetting the constant noise -- her smile less feline than it had been in moons and moons and moons.

"A toast to my mirror, then." She teased, lifting her silver goblet of Arbor Gold high over her head with an exaggerated flick of her thin wrist. "Deimos might have the pressure of being our great and noble Lord of The Tides, but the real weight comes from carrying our family's perfect beauty standard on my shoulders." Her words a purr, like a content house cat.

But each of her siblings were perfect. Aerea had no need for mirrors -- despite her sometimes odd interests, she held the paragon of Valyrian beauty that the rest of their clutch of snake eggs did not. Deimos was truly great and noble, brave and true, though she did not say it to him enough. Yna looked upon her eldest brother with so much tenderness that Vhaenessa had not thought it possible, and had born them perfect nieces and nephews. Vaegon was all but her twin, her partner in delicious crime. And Aerion… he had been the best of them.

"May my reflection always look better than yours," another honey-and-venom laugh, "and may all of yours always look better than all the rest."

The Master of the Tides glanced around, his stoicism giving way to a more relaxed expression upon his features. The kingdom of New Valyria was rising, and Deimos was pleasantly surprised with his cousin’s new role as king. The brat prince seemed to be fully gone, a capable dragon king having taken his place. The Lord of Driftmark looked at his siblings and wife as they enjoyed the dinner that had been served and for the first time in a very long time, he felt true ease. A seat was empty, where Aerion should have been… House Velaryon continued, it sailed forth and persisted, as the old, true, and brave sons and daughters of Valyria always did.

Vaegon was unsurprisingly somewhat tipsy already, but the ruling lord didn’t deny him the opportunity to begin a toast. Drinks were poured into their cups. Deimos gave a light squeeze to his wife’s hand before he stood up. He raised his drink, lilac eyes landing on each of his family members around him. “To our house. To those of us still here, and to those who await us,” he said in a solemn way. Aerion. Mother. Father. He sounded grateful, though, for those family members who still remained. “May you lot continue to be a headache for a long time,” he added in a more lighthearted manner, for he never did hide the fact that his siblings had it in them to be little shits. He loved them greatly, of course, even if he had a way of being so stern in his appreciation for each of them.

@mourningblood

#|| threads -- driftmark || #|| threads -- the velaryons 01 || #|| threads ||

[vhaenessavelaryon]

Vhaenessa’s didn’t care about anybody but herself. Not really. She loved her family, in the ways she knew how — but from the moment she took her first breath, and until the moment she took her last, her first thought would forever be of herself. Of what declious trouble she could stir, what ways she could twist a situation to benefit from it, or even simply how she could entertain herself for an evening. 

That was how that evening had started. Entertainment. Or, rather, the lack thereof.  The youngest Velaryon had found herself bored of the party far sooner than she normally might have. Her head had been aching with a dull throb that no amount of wine seemed to quell. Just hours before, she’d all but hissed at a servant to bring her a better year — the pitiful, cowering thing tripping over their words. 

“My lady, it is already— “ Cut off as she had smacked the wine decantur from their hand — The Siren hadn’t need speak another word. They scrambled off to fetch her something better. Once returned, Vhaenessa had plucked the full bottle from stunned fingers and slithered off into the garden to find something better to do. 

It was how she found herself following the sound, the sharp curve of her brow lifted upward. Twisting into the gardens, cradling a bottle of Dornish Red in one hand, and a goblet in the other. Arguing, she was sure — unable to be heard from the overflow of music and conversation. She’d been lifting her goblet to her lips when she’d at last rounded the corner. 

She hadn’t seen his first strike, but Vhaenessa did see the rodent-like figure shove the woman back, close his fingers around her throat. There had been the thought — the thought of herself. How interfering wouldn’t do anything for Vhaenessa. Saving the other woman from her assailant wasn’t self-serving. Far from it, likley — but then the woman’s face flashed in the torchlight. 

Nearly blue in the torchlight’s dancing flames. Vhaenessa’s head throbbed. Thought left her. 

Her jaw twitched, then her head — and she moved. Akin to a serpent, the water-like fabric of her dress rippled as she darted across the grass. Abandoning only her goblet, Vhaenessa’s moonish eye gleamed as a cat’s yowl all but erupted from her red lips. Face twisting, a feralness in place of her usual cheshire. Vhaenessa came up behind the pair as the man sunk his fist into the pit of the woman’s stomach, one arm raised high over her head. Still in her fingers, she brought the bottle down — and she brought it down hard. 

He staggered, Vhaenessa’s aim landing squarely on the back of his head. Glass shards and wine exploded over them in a rain of shock. The woman sunk to the ground. Dazed, the man turned to face his attacker, his eyes furious despite the blood that had begun to drip down the back of his neck. But even as Vhaenessa lashed out towards him with the broken bottle neck, his eyes moved away from her, to another set of figures that Vhaenessa could not yet see. 

Flinching backwards from the broken bottle, Vhaenessa bared her teeth — and with another feral scream, she began swinging it at him, again, and again. She caught his arm as he raised it upward to protect his face — there was a gush of blood, and he stumbled backwards. As he fell to the ground, the sound of more footsteps filled the clearing in the garden.

@briannabrackens

who: @vhaenessavelaryon + @briannabrackens + @devanitoland + @moonhillsunsets + @celtigxr setting: at night in the gardens of the red keep during one of the coronation balls. context: the 6 commit a murder.

willow had not wanted to join the coronation celebrations of the targaryen king, but she had been convinced by her sons to go. the city was no stranger to her. she had spent enough time as a young woman attending countless balls and feasts when her father was master of laws. now here she was strolling through the gardens while the distant sound of music and merriment filled the air. she had been forced to be with too many people for far too long. she had nearly strangled the last lord who decided to approach her by speaking of the weather. it had been her cue to flee to the gardens.

when walking past an entrance to a hedge maze, her shoulder collided with that of a man. even at the best of times, willow was easy to offend but she recognised this lord and it fuelled an anger inside her. lord ihsan marbrand. he had gained a reputation that no man should wish to gain, a reputation most of the ladies had heard of by now. most of the men would not care but the women certainly did.

she turned around before he could go far. "are you a mole, my lord?" she asked with venom in her voice. when he turned around to look at her with confusion, she followed it up with: "you seem to be as blind as one." when the marbrand lord got closer to her, clearly not pleased with what she had said, then willow immediately added insult to injury. "you look like one too." the darkness was thick around them but there was a torch on a nearby castle wall lighting up the night enough for her to see.

"i will give you a chance to apologise."

there was something something unsettling about him and a tiny voice in her mind was telling her that she probably should apologise and quickly get away from him, but willow's tongue was unfortunately quicker than her brain. "you're right, i'm sorry... to the mole for comparing it to you." there was a smirk on her lips and she was pleased with herself. but not for long. suddenly she felt the sharp pain of the back of his hand colliding with her cheek and she heard him call her 'insolent witch'.

willow stood rooted to the ground with pain radiating in her jaw. she was completely stunned for a moment before she foolishly decided to retaliate by pushing him. but she was not strong enough and he managed to catch himself before he fell backwards. suddenly she found herself with her back against a tree and a strong hand wrapped around her throat. she tried to fight back but to no avail. she started to panic as he restricted the air flowing into her lungs. she scratched at his face but she found herself unable to reach far enough to do the damage required for him to let her go. would he really go as far as to kill her over a stupid insult? willow was terrified that he just might. the rest of her air escaped her as she felt the pain of a strike to her stomach. her vision seemed to get darker and darker as she flailed in his grasp. but then she heard some rustling to her side before suddenly falling to the ground while heaving for breath.

#|| threads -- the six 01 || #|| threads -- king's landing || #this was not short i looked at it too long soz #the gif is not what i want if you remmeber her hitting max thats the vibe sdfghjk #|| threads || #|| threads -- the coronation of jaehaerys ii || #tw: violence

[vhaenessavelaryon]

#not mine of course the og post was just like an entire dash length long #|| dragon of the sea — vhaenessa velaryon || #||face||

[vhaenessavelaryon]

"Jaehaerys came to see them?" At the mention of her kingly cousin, The Siren found her interests peaking. Still at the small table of refreshments, her nimble hands reached for a dish of sliced oranges. She carefully selected one and squeezed it into her own goblet of sparkling wine, eyes never leaving the scrimmage.

Even a brief appearance from their soon-to-be king was note worthy.

Vhaenessa didn't need to look at Saella to catch the bitter undertone in her words. The daughter of House Velaryon had no real skin in the political game, unless she was keeping her own safe. But others... dear, diposed Dany had made any number of mistakes with the few true Valyrians bloodlines that remained.

Taking from them what made them godly -- what made them better than all the rest... Qoherys gladiators, Velaryon war ships, Celtigar coin.... It was then that her moonish gaze moved from the battling men and back to Saella, who braced herself upon the bannister. Circling like a silken feline, she came to stand beside her, a sharp eyebrow climbing upwards. It was a delicious thought -- the ludas, lyseni silk... but Vhaenessa's mind quickly turned from what were easily two of her favorite topics of conversation -- clothes and men.

"I think he's keen to bring many things back to their former glory," she purred, though it was near... casual. A mocking, clearly fake pass at playing coy. "I can't think of a better way, starting with the games..." Vhaenessa swirled her sparkling wine, and finally couldn't help the teasing smile that curled her red lips. "Other than starting with the woman who runs them, of course." Her mis-matched eyes sparkled. "Darling, we could find your color... but have you thought of finding fabrics that go well with iron?"

an airy laugh left the lips of the lady of house qoherys at the shift in her friends demeanor. though it was quite expected when the prospect of bringing her into the fold as a sponsor crossed her mind. many might say the velaryon was naive, moldable, but saella believed much of vhaenessa’s flippant nature to be an act of sorts, and she believed the woman made a formidable ally, and perhaps a dangerous foe. it would always be best to keep the woman on her side, especially with the age of new valyria thrust them both into the a spotlight and age they had not quite navigated before.

amethyst hues observed the gladiator who had caught the other’s attention, and it were obvious by simply looking at him just why. he looked as if he was chiseled from marble, with attractive features, strength, and a clear presence amongst the rest of the group. she hoped he would not meet his end anytime soon, but another would take his place. there were always more.

a small smirk of amusement crossed her features, following by a shake of her head. “perhaps a little.” she teased, though truthfully the idea mainly presented itself due to the dark-haired woman’s interest. “but now that it’s been discussed, you shall have your pick.” she shifted back slightly to allow the other to observe them more, but vhaenessa clearly already had one she favored, with a quick pointed of her finger, causing saella’s grin to spread further.

“perhaps next we bring men to the ludus you shall help me choose the best of them, you have quite the eye.” she remarked, a nod of acknowledgement at the other’s next offer. a strange, perhaps ethereal sight the two women were. one observant, calm, perhaps reserved, the other a more lively presence, who practically danced with every step she took - like water and fire, they were.

a golden goblet was placed to her lips now, sipping the sparkling wine, where the other indulged, it were tempting, the flavors were excellent, but she always preferred a sharp, clear mind, even in the presence of someone she genuinely held trust in. “it is simply an investment.” she insisted. “i would love that, i’ll need a new dress for the coronation games, something of lyseni fabrics would be perfect. what colors should i consider?”

hands found themselves on the bannister again, watchful eye, more vulture than hawk, despite the high standards she held for the care provided for her gladiators. still she stood, waiting to pick upon the corpses that would ultimately come to be below. “his grace came to see them briefly.” she replied, eyes still fixed below before shifting back to vhae. "he seems very keen on bringing the games back to their former glory." there was a subtle bitter tone to her words, regret seeping through them for having supported a queen who did little and more in her brief reign.

#water and fire was A SEXY LINE #ik yall picked but i feel like this would 100% come up between them #|| threads -- saella 01 || #|| threads king's landing || #|| threads || #|| threads -- the coronation of jaehaerys ii ||

[vhaenessavelaryon]

To watch the pair was to watch a cat stalk an innocent rodent. As her moonish gaze narrowed, the feline smile that curled her lips was more predatory than its usual sultry cheshire. More... pity than easy amusement. Like the kill was too easy. With his fumbling, his stuttering -- all she need do was reach out with lazy crescent claws, and she'd have a new mouse-fur coin purse.

"They mind," Vhaenessa said. Smoothly, with a rotation of her slim wrist that sent her Dornish red swirling in its goblet. Churning, akin to siren waters. She did not turn her gaze to her companions for confirmation -- did not lock eyes with her sister, and instead kept her mis-matched hues firmly locked on Lucerys. If you were not busy.

The words nearly made the siren snort out-loud.

Vhaenessa was no prisoner to courtly manners. But, by anybody's standards, she had been busy. It was a party -- and she had been busy drinking and gossiping, busy not being bothered by pitiful squeaking boys. "I think I have a better idea, my lord." She mused, sickly sweet. She blinked her long, dark lashes.

"Perhaps, you might take a sprightly jaunt into the gardens on your own. Find better flowers," sickly sweet, like elderberry syrup for a cough. Wine that had been well aged. "For someone else," she tilted her head, "somewhere else."

Another swirl of her wrist, a raise of a sharp eyebrow. "And we will all stay right here, drinking enough wine that we forget this awful... display you're attempting. That sounds wonderful, wouldn't you agree?"

luc's pained smile, initially flickering with hope, now seemed to waver as her words hung in the air “i….no. no. of course not.” he said trying to pass it off with a laugh. perhaps she had a paculiar sense of humor? no the more the thought about this he could see the entire conversation quickly exploding in front of him. 

shit. this was not going well was it.

still he held onto the flowers hoping by some miracle she would take them. something. anything. he could see her sister standing by watching and her friends. oh gods this was going badly.

but still he held his smile, hoping maybe perseverance would do him well. show he wasnt phased by such a thing. but he was. he couldnt even remember the last time he spoke with a lady in such a way. there was no need for such things with the maesters. no wives to think of taking. no courting needing to be done. and now all of this was just a mess.

desperate to salvage the situation, luc's words spilled forth in a jumbled symphony of nervousness. “no, my lady, that did not happen.” he said, “i thought perhaps, if you were not busy. if i could accompany or well escort i suppose around the garden.” why was he so nervous? it was as if his mind had forgotten how to string together simple sentences. he stumbled over his words, attempting to navigate the uncharted waters of this sort of social encounter that felt alien to his scholarly sensibilities. it would be better if he wasnt trying to court someone, then maybe he would remember what talking was.

“i see you are with your friends, if they wouldn’t mind me stealing you away for a few minutes or two…”he laughed awkwardly. “or i mean they can come! and the wine you have that too…or…” why was he still holding the flowers out to her? he looked like an idiot.

#it got worse #|| threads -- the coronation of jaehaerys ii || #|| threads -- king's landing || #|| threads || #|| threads -- lucerys 01 ||

[vhaenessavelaryon]

There’s a Girl in My Soup (Roy Boulting, 1970)

#after speaking with luc asdfgh #|| dragon of the sea — vhaenessa velaryon || #||muse||

[vhaenessavelaryon]

“It is hard to stop loving the ocean. Even after it has left you gasping, salty.”

— Sarah Kay, The Type  (via 89words)

#|| dragon of the sea — vhaenessa velaryon || #||muse||

[vhaenessavelaryon]

{Words by Clarice Lispector from A Breath of Life}

#|| dragon of the sea — vhaenessa velaryon ||

[vhaenessavelaryon]

Vhaenessa Velaryon had certainly not softened her tongue. Though she was not the most important person at the garden party, she was one of them -- and it was nearly impossible not to take notice of her, bedecked in a silken teal gown that resembled water more closely than fabric. Clinging to her body like a second skin, it was enough to catch any man's gaze. It was how she liked it -- to be seen, to be admired, to be desired.

But what she didn't like? People approaching her without her explicit permission. She liked people who interrupted her conversations even less, and for ridiculous reasons at that. Flowers. The poor boy had thought to catch her eye with flowers. Vhaenessa cradled a goblet of wine, and it never seemed to empty, as if it was bewitched by some magic. The truth of it was that a servant was never far from her side, always quick to refill it before she reached the bottom.

As Lucerys Estermont approached, her wrist tilted ever so slightly. A silent order. She knew him. Not well, but well enough to surmise that he had some sort of position. The name was familiar. Hadn't As she set her miss-matched, feline gaze on him, the servant all but scrambled to top off the drink. She'd need one to get through whatever... this was supposed to be. The Siren's sharp eyebrows rose in a blank, unamused expression as he fumbled over his words. She looked bored -- watching him struggle to string he sentence together, to... to what?

"Did someone drop you as an infant?"

Lady Vhae. Gods -- far too familiar coming from a lord who would likely cry the moment he'd had too much to drink. He couldn't be serious. Vhaenessa's moonish eyes dropped to the small bouquet, red lip curling ever so slightly. Yellow wasn't even her color. It took everything in her not to take a disgusted step backwards.

Her head tilted to the side, feline, as honey and venom dripped form her tongue. "If that's what happened, these are at least... excusable. It wouldn't be your fault." She looked up from the extended flowers, and back to his face once more.

Vhaenessa didn't make a move to take them.

location: the gardens of the red keep during the corination events for their new king

@vhaenessavelaryon

in the embrace of the gardens, luc's heart danced to a rhythm of nervous anticipation. his mother's insistence echoed in his ears as he approached vhaenessa velayron. the weight of his newfound role within the court and the need to solidify house estermont's standing in new valyria intensified the fluttering in his chest. his mother had insisted that she would be someone right for him, at least her families status would be highly sought after. luc hadn't spoke with vhae in years but he remembered she had a very sharp tongue. but perhaps the years away had softened it somewhat?

as he approached her in the gardens he held a bunch of beautiful yellow roses. he thought they looked nice. perplexity clouded luc's features as he recalled the garden's strange reaction when he told him who he was giving the flowers too.

"lady vhae, i wanted to give you these flowers. i thought they were just as….oh sorry excuse me." luc said,his voice slightly faltering as an unexpected passerby disrupted his approach. he stepped to move out of their way as they either didn't see him or didn't care he was standing there. "pardon me, i'm just trying to...okay." luc looked back at vhae with a nervous smile,adjusting the glasses on his face he cleared his throat and started again holding out the yellow roses to her. "i saw these flowers and thought of your beauty. and i wanted you to have them. but your beauty wont die like the flowers….i mean, the flowers wilt. and you wont. wilt i mean. i mean we all die eventually right….but wilting. you wont do that." he held the flowers out for her to take.

#THIS IS THE MOST HIGHSCHOOL MEAN GIRL SHIT GOOD GOD #LUCY YOU POOR BOY #i actually felt bad omg #|| threads -- king's landing || #|| threads -- the coronation of jaehaerys ii || #|| threads -- lucerys 01 || #|| threads ||

[vhaenessavelaryon]

Quinzel x Sebastián 1/?

#its wild bc they actually look related sdfghjkl #|| vhaenessa & vaegon || #||face|| #|| the old the true the brave house velaryon || #|| dragon of the sea — vhaenessa velaryon ||

[vhaenessavelaryon]

"That's why I appreciate it for you," Vhaenessa said, her hushed voice from behind the screen a dance between mockery and sweet silk. "I'm a giver, really." Though the tone was a tease that ended on a sip of Dornish Red, the fact was... technically true. Showering people in gifts, receiving them.

It was her love language -- but Vhaenessa Velaryon didn't know how to love.

In this instance, it was a sirenic tease -- of course he didn't have time for baths, and so, it was a gift that the lavish tub got used. Anybody would have been honored to have The Siren in their bath. But Maximus wasn't honorable. And he wasn't one for baths, either.

He could've pretended, though. It was as he said -- it made the whole thing more exciting.

"I'll tell you," She crooned, sickly sweet, "if you tell me that you missed me." Her moonish eye glimmered as Maximus came around the divider. She leaned up to meet him, serpent-like, her wine glass abandoned on the edge of the tub. She reached up, long pointed nail ran along the scratches on his cheek -- healing, and noticeable only if you'd known where it was to begin with. Faint. She dragged her fingernails down from the three faint pink lines, then down his jaw, stopping at his throat.

"It's rather simple." And an invitation to things that could be done in dark tunnels, if he said it like he meant it. Little sisters and idiotic top-heavy cousins couldn't hear them, then.

But it was a sick game -- they didn't miss each other. She'd know it, if he didn't. Instantly. Because between them, it was something only present when they were together, and when they were, it was a dark and thick thing. You didn't miss it -- you experienced it wholly in the moment, and then waited until the next. Like a drug.

No missing -- only craving.

Vhaenessa did not acknowledge it -- the latter statement, about selfishness and heads. No, she'd had a wonderful day. Brunch and training with Saella, the gladiator fight later in the evening, and... and making Natalya Sunglass feel like the insignificant toss-away she was. A wonderful day. He wouldn't go spoiling it with politics, not when she was in a... gambling mood. They were both alive -- how annoying and boring he was, to try to ruin it again.

She tapped her nail just where his jaw met his throat, right above his heart beat. "I've imagined you in a dark tunnel," Vhaenessa purred, low and feline, "have you imagined me?" Leaning in, close. "I bet you won't, crab..."

mxc.

the sound of the door creaked behind the emerging silhouette of maximus celtigar, an ominous shadow against an ornate backdrop of tapestries and candles that had already been lit: there came the scent of an aroma from somewhere behind the divider within his chambers, an aroma that only indicated toward a bath being run. regardless, he were in no rush to get into the bath the servants had run for him: instead moving directly to his desk. it were spotless, strangely spotless, far more organised and clean than it ever usually was: a stark contrast to his personal chambers upon claw isle, which looked direct upon black sand beaches and stormy, grey skies.

the knee had already been bent, and now all he ought to do was use a quill to sign the proclamation of house celtigar's official acceptance of the new reign of king jaehaerys targaryen. "not all of us have the time to appreciate bathtubs." he spoke, his tone the typical low drawl it was in response to the sound of her words coming from behind the divider. she should not have to do anything else. she was a valyrian woman, was she not? the proclamation went upon the desk, and his signature was etched across in blood red ink. he cared not for the way it dripped.

it were nothing prophetic, nothing strange, nothing that came in the depths of his mind as he slept. no strange sixth sense, it were nothing but obvious: clear moments mapped out across a timeline which he had studied time and time again, ensuring to update it each time he received new information or no information from any of the velaryon faction. there was one moment in the timeline that stuck out most of all: the movement of the newly crowned targaryen princess, from the safety of the red keep to the stormlands. where the prince had been surrounded by what almost appeared like his own court. if there had been a literal crack of lightening in the sky, it had been that; a eureka moment, the tell-tale sign that this had all been planned: for why else would they need to move her out of fear for her own safety?

the master of coin had kept his coin. there was no way she would know of the way it had been him to organise the hit on lenora, in an attempt to rid of her, the westerlands puppet. flush out her womb if it were empty. and still, he had managed to keep it all. what was the catch? it were obvious he were the most obvious answer. all knew of his distrust of jaehaerys, in those days where he had nothing. now he had everything.

all knew of the new decree. moon tea had been banned. which meant that maximus celtigar and vhaenessa velaryon needed to stop what they were doing. unless…unless, there was a dark part of him that knew if he were able to get her pregnant, he would secure a velaryon wife. a velaryon dowry. if not only for her wretched, empty, ruined womb. none would be able to see her sneak her way into his chambers, lest report get out. and it was her that did not want to be tied to him. she had far more to lose. meaning, there was some other way she had gotten into his chambers. "i doubt you'll tell me where the tunnel is." he asked, walking around the divider to see the sight of her beneath the warm water, dark silky hair streaming around. ever the siren.

maximus celtigar had seen the velaryon brothers more these days, rather than their sister. the one sister of theirs he actually interacted with. vhaenessa had not been in his mind from the moment he had departed from her chambers all those weeks ago, following their usual descent into their usual spiral - the smashing of glass, staring intently into flames, the sounds of rapid breathing merging together. the way they touched one another was never gentle, or passionate; there no sense of care in it.

and yet, there was something addictive about the way they succumbed to one another, the bed quickly becoming far more likened to a battle front. there was no use in questioning why they did such things. they both knew why they did such things. "my sisters and my cousin are staying within proximity, and will not see such things. do not make me expose your escapades - it takes the fun out of it." he spoke, his voice serious as he lowered himself to her level, almost taunting.

"and you see what happens when you are selfish? you get to attend the execution, rather than be a head shorter."

#|| threads -- maximus 02 || #|| threads -- the red keep || #|| threads -- the coronation of jaehaerys ii || #|| threads || #god

[vhaenessavelaryon]

The sirens ears perked -- the only thing that could draw her attention away from the mock battle was the offer of stakes in the real battle. Her dark hair was a wave of silk as she turns from the fighters, stopping mid-jeer. Gladiators of House Qoherys were of singular stock, muscled and trained with deadly diligence. Saella might have ruled with respect -- but Vhaenessa was fueled by fear. People who installed it -- and the gladiator who's spear had found it's mark... the men around him fidgeted, eyes all flashing between each other, before they began again. Fear -- and he was impossibly tall, handsome. A clear winner in an already perfect new selection.

"Did you plan this?" She purred, wrapping her arms around her friend shoulders. Lazily, like a cat draping around her neck. "How you spoil me, my darling." She kissed her on the cheek, and a long, silver painted finger nail pointed. just ever so slightly, like the flick of a feline's tail. Saella would know who.

And then she was spinning away from her, a gleeful, sirenic melody in her voice. "See he wants for nothing? Put everything on my account?"

It was a shame, though, that she wouldn't be able to go... share a meal with her new fighter. Not with her kingly cousin's new edict. Though Vhaenessa had rumor drenching her in a dark veil, she'd never been caught. Even at the parties she threw -- never allowing one singular man to touch her long enough to install her favor (what could be true, when so much of it wasn't?) and if she did pluck a fruit from the basket, it was never in sight. She would be watched more closely, now -- she'd not fuel the fire. Fire, she thought. Stop it. Vhaenessa poured a new glass of sparkling wine, and drained it quickly, before pouring another. "Though, perhaps Deimy wouldn't notice..." Another impish laugh. "No, no, I want to take Nef to the market. Come with us? Lyseni fabric is becoming quite a commodity, you know." Her eyes dragged back to the scrimmage, beginning anew. She was a gambler. And she didn't like to be on the losing side. "Who else has come to see your new toys?"

a relaxed hand rested upon the railing of the balcony as lilac hues looked down upon the ludus below. the gritty sand-covered floor found within it speckles of blood from the sparring that was occurring. saella of house qoherys had long upheld this tradition that stretched back to old valyria, where a new world may see it as distasteful or barbaric, she knew it was far greater than that, though perhaps the latter way of describing it wasn’t terribly far off from what it was. it was a testament to not just physical strength, but mental as well. and for the lucky ones that surpasses the challenges they faced, great reward and honor was given.

an airy laugh left her, amused at the excitement and glee upon her friends face, a natural entertainer and hostess saella was, though she did not have to put up such fronts with vhaenessa. while friendship did not come easily for women like them, it befell the two of them seamlessly, beyond their shared roots.

"shame." she replied nonchalantly, her eyes still fixated upon the gladiators below. she knew they would hear her friend, and perhaps part of her wanted to catch them slipping up, for them to look upon the ladies above them for longer than was acceptable. though the silver haired woman preferred respect over fear, she would take the latter if only to achieve submission from her fighters.

the spar drew to it's close, with one, almost as if fueled by the jeers of the velaryon woman, knocked the other out cold. saella's face remained neutral, bordering on unamused as she gave a wave of her hand for guards standing by to drag him away before the spar was to begin. "you can be one again, if you wish." lips curled upwards now as she sat in the velvet chair across from her friend. she waved her hand out to the arena. "pick any one you want."

#sdfghjk #|| threads -- saella 01 || #|| threads -- king's landing || #|| threads -- the coronation of jaehaerys ii || #|| threads ||

[vhaenessavelaryon]

"The moon cracked, brother. I seen the eggs tumble and I heard them break." - Viserys Targaryen

The youngest of the Green children who still lives is Prince Viserys Targaryen, Little Viserys, survived the dance in the way of cravens and dragon pups. Hiding in the many caves and tunnels of the dragonpit, listening to the slaughter of the creatures he loved so much. The young Prince stayed in hiding, tucked away from the view and voices of those looking for his cousins and any survivors. The tamers hid the boy among themselves, keeping him there once they confirmed Jaehaerys Targaryen was alive through a network of connections of their own.

When his brother rose to the throne Viserys chose to stay in the pits. The young Prince, the dumb dragon, earned such a name when in a tourney the handsome, young, knight was knocked off his horse and his helmet was dented, from that day Viserys seemed to only know High Valyrian and was visibly distressed in the presence of his grandmother and aunt.

The news reaches the King late in the evening in the form of his brother storming into his bedchambers waking him and the Queen with small dragons in his hands on his shoulders.

"Zaldrīzoti!! Zaldrīzoti!!"

NOTE: As in canon these dragons will only get so big but the Targaryen's will never return to dragon strength again.

#|| the old the true the brave house velaryon || #|| fire and blood — house targaryen || #Vhae is like YESSSSSS TARGS ON TOP TARGS ON TOP #vhae vc: can I carry one in a purse #while secretly mourning moondancer #|| the crownlands ||

[vhaenessavelaryon]

@deimos-velaryon @vaegonvelaryon @mourningblood

#||muse|| #|| the old the true the brave house velaryon ||

[vhaenessavelaryon]

setting: the celtigar quarters in the red keep, a late night sometime in the early days of jaehaery's coronation games. @vlxyrianclaws

"I've never why understood you get the better bathtub, crab." Vhaenessa's voice was a sirenic call from the giant tub, which was laden with frothing, fragrant bubbles. Had it been her bath, in her chambers, the aroma would have been thicker -- laced with orchid, vanilla, and her other signature scents for the art of seduction. She wasn't sure whatever the Celtigar servants had put in the bath, but it would suffice. "You just don't appreciate it the way I would."

Sneaking in had been second nature, easy as breathing, though a bit more... inconvenient than normal. Usually, drifting through the dark halls of the Keep and to Maximus' door after the rest of the court had gone to sleep was enough, but...

After her conversation in Jaehaerys' solarium, Vhaneessa needed to -- unfortunately -- tread more carefully. Much more carefully. Thankfully, moons and moons and moons ago, Vhaenesa had bullied her bird-brained cousin into showing her the multitude of secret passages that made up the skeleton of The Red Keep. Jaehaera had known enough about the passages to get them out, where they had snuck into the tournament, and...

... and she didn't want to think about that. Not that night.

But, eventually, Vheanessa had discovered more and more halls and secret doors as she'd grown. One such door opened a wall concealed by a tapestry, leading directly into the master suite of the Celtigars quarters. Nobody knew about this one save for Vhanessa -- she had not even revealed the secret to her crab, and so, it was simply as if The Siren had materialized when he at last entered the room.

Nobody would know she was here, let alone left her own chambers, unless Maximus outed her to the servants the next morning. She’d waited, quietly, until they'd had finished his bath for the evening. Their lord hadn’t returned yet, but she knew they’d leave the room alone for him to return to. Solitude was what he enjoyed, after all. 

Vhaenessa's lithe frame was comfortably lounging in the tub -- a glass of wine craddled between pointed fingers, -- her dress a pool of expensive fabric near the basin. She'd up pinned her long, dark hair ontop of her head. Steam from the bath pooled and shifted in the air around her, akin to smoke blowing from a dragon's nose. "I see the Master has kept his Coin." Her words were accompanied with a the feline tilt of her head, and the corners of her red lips curling upwards. She hadn't seen him -- hadn't come to his room since that night, nor his to hers, even while they'd been in Highgarden.

Greens all around Jaehaerys, he’d said. Now Maximus was around him, too. 

"Hope I'm not interrupting."

#oop #|| threads -- maximus 02 || #|| threads -- king's landing ||

[vhaenessavelaryon]

@vlxyrianclaws

“She didn’t love him and he didn’t love her; she was like an addiction, and what they were doing had a darkness to it, a weight.”

— Kim Edwards, The Memory Keeper’s Daughter (via wordsnquotes)

#|| vhaenessa & maximus || #||muse|| #|| dragon of the sea — vhaenessa velaryon ||