(122-07-16) Targaryen Cyvasse
Targaryen Cyvasse
Summary: Maelys comes across a discussion between father and daughter. Visenya vows to be more than a pawn.
Date: Date of play (16/07/2015)
Related: Seeds of Peace

Aevarys Targaryen, father to Visenya and brother to Maelys, paces about the room as aforementioned daughter sits in a chair with a look of unease on her face. "-It is very important that you gain his favor, Visenya. Prince Rhaegor was a good match-" He stops then to reach out and grasp her chin, "-And I know you fancied yourself in love or something foolish, but this? This is bigger than you. This bring our line back into favor with the King." He stares down into her eyes, "Do you know what that could mean? For your brothers and sisters?" Visenya nods faintly, her hand still in his chin. He smiles, and releases it. "Good." He adds in a silky voice then, "You always were my favorite of the girls. Now I think you are my favorite of them all. Do not disappoint me, Visenya."

Visenya says in a meek voice that sounds so much unlike her, "Yes father." Her eyes turn down to the floor.

Aevarys smiles. "Good. Now I will see to your mother." He heads towards the door and there is Maelys. His lips curl upwards into a sneer. "Little brother." His amethyst colored eyes sweep over the Prince of Ashes. "Do have a good night." And then he steps around his half-brother and out of the Solar.

A cloying sweet scent precedes him. Ash and blood. The smell of campfires and a fresh kill. The Prince is dressed in black riding boots, caked with dust and a long red Dornish robe. The latter adorned with golden dragon studs, each wyrm stands atop three shattered swords, but the Prince wears none. The pommel of a curved eighteen inch hunting knife rises up from a red sash about the Prince's waist. But it is not the Maely's Dornish attire that engenders Aevarys's sneer. No, it is the kill.

A long ebon main rolls out across Maely's left shoulder, a face with glassy brown eyes. A regal aspect with two long, curved horns. The beast must weigh half again as much as the Prince of Ashes, but the Aurochs's black bulk rests easily against the Prince's broad shoulders. If any should took closely, they would doubtless see the muscles in the Prince's back are taught with the effort of hefting the beast up several flights of stairs.

Ever the blackguard, Maelys favors his elder brother with a mocking half bow. "Good to see you Aevarys."

"He half turns to follow the elder Prince as he leaves the room and all but sighs. "Still wroth over old Gyles and the Redfort girl." With no further preamble Maelys lifts the beast from off his shoulders and drops it before the fair Princess, a meaty wet THUMD!! reverberates through the room. "Dearest niece, If you hope to give the Prince a boy child, you must eat fresh game. The heart and liver are the best. Or so my screamer would have me believe."

Visenya stares down at the beast as it is dropped down at her feet with a wet noise. "Uncle Maelys." She greets in an almost dazed voice. "You're making it a habit of dropping dead things at my feet." This is in reference to the Tyrell head he so casually dropped at her bare feet in what seems like a lifetime ago. "The Dornish do not mind girl children as much. But thank you. I shall have it sent to the kitchens, and have it prepared for my wedding feast."

Aevarys glares at Maelys at the mention of the Redfort girl, and stalks out of the room with no further preamble. Once he is gone Visenya stands up from her chair, steps over the carcass, and rushes over to put her arms around Maelys and bury her face into his chest. It does not have the romantic longing that it did once, but it's clear that she's glad to see him after having received her father.

"It is a meager gift, I'll grant you. I'd thought to tender another rose, but the hedge has become rather sparse of late. Maelys's head descends, strong arms slip about Viseny's waist and back. "My brother seemed quite, ah, impassioned. Quite intent on winning his grace's favor with this match two marriages in Dorne? It almost seems a conspiracy."

"He will gain no favor from Rhaegor's match." Visenya says into Maelys' broad chest. She pulls away from him to tip her head back and look into his face. "He thinks I can bring Dorne to heel with my charms and what is between my legs, but that? That is impossible. He underestimates the Martells, and he especially underestimates Prince Torren." She lets out a little sound of despair. "I don't know what to do. Everyone wants me to please them and only them."

The Prince pulls the gloves from off his hand and turns to a basin. He washes the dust from his hands with water scented with roses, then turns to his niece. "Rhaegor's match." The Prince deadpans, if he has thoughts on the matter. "Emira Martell." His voice curves upward on the last suffix, in the Dornish intonation. "No woman brings a man to heel with beauty, much less her sex, dear niece." Maelys rounds upon Visenya, then. "But, I think you've all that's needed to bring Torran to heel. You need merely know when to treat with him sweetly and when to burn his Dornish lock." Maely's lips curl in a half-smile. "Your father is want to underestimate dornismen; he's also want to underestimate his daughters."

"Rhaegor told me the reason I was given for the match was because if Princess Halaena was offered they would lose Dreamfyre from the royal stables." She wanders over to a darkened window, and wraps her arms around herself. "No. I don't care what elaborate games they play with me as a pawn. I have no intention of being a pawn. They send me to be wife to Dorne?" She looks over her shoulder to Maelys, "Then I shall do just that. There will be no bringing the Prince to heel. Even if I could, and I cannot, I do not desire to do so."

Maelys's gaze follows the Princess. He steps to the edge of her shadow and brings thumb and forefinger to his chin. "Lose Dreamfyre?" Maelys stares at the Visenya. "Surely, they would not gift the Wyrm to the Martells. "Can you bring the Prince to heel? Perhaps. No man, no woman, is entirely removed, or immune to the influence of others. Particularly a powerful spouse. Wild, wilfull, or no, in time you will have some measure of power over the man, Visenya."

"Of course they wouldn't gift her to the Martells. But, how do you separate rider from dragon once they are bound?" Visenya knows the pain of being separated from her own dragons. "If she is his wife then the dragon would be at his disposal, would it not? And she is a girl of three-and-ten, and he is a very persuasive man." She looks out the window again. "Perhaps you are right. But it will not be as my father imagines." She watches the dark night's sky for a moment or two before she says, "I hear you are to be a father again."

"I see." Maelys favors Visenya with a weighty look, his eyes sink into his skull. The lines about his face might well be fissures of crags, pulling shadow into their depths. "You are here, dear niece, and -if not Martell, you must marry, soon.- You are as fair as any maid of old Valyria, but you are nearly one-and-twenty. "Rule him as you will, your father will still be your father, but Torran will be your lord, and you a lady with her own household, and Princess consort of Dorne, if you have him."

At the next Maelys's lips form a genuine smile. "A boy. I know it for a boy. He makes Alaeyna fierce. We are to be married in a moon's time, I have had spoils brought from King's Landing. It will be a good field, but perhaps not so good a field as the field at your wedding tourney. I am not but a Prince in name, dear niece."

"I don't mind marrying him." Visenya says without looking back at him. "I like him. He's witty, and smart, and handsome enough. I do mind being played as a pawn in my father, and the King's, and the Queen Who Never Was' game." She turns then to look over Maelys a moment, and there is a sad look on her face. As if she were burdened with saying something she'd rather not say. "Alaeyna Fowler was fierce as a viper before you put your seed in her, and as treacherous as one as well. Are you so certain the child is yours? I hear she has numerous paramours." That said she steps forward to kiss Maelys' cheek and says, "Goodnight, Uncle."

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