Rhaeyn carries himself with a bright air about him, with solid posture and a smile that can fill a room. He stands about five and a half feet with a delicate bone structure, lending him a frailty of visage that is almost ethereal. What is most striking, though is his coloration. His skin is very pale, and his hair, long enough to fall around his ears, is a shock platinum. His eyes are violet, crowned with a set of pale lashes, putting the nail in the coffin of any assumptions of his heritage. His lips are full, with a natural pout, and his over all pristine appearance is only emphasized by the trim fit of his clothing, fine spun fabrics that mark his place as royalty.
If you want to know someone, you should ask them the story of when they were born. See, no one remembers their own birth, so everyone romanticizes it somehow. Takes what they were told, and crafts it into a tale to suit them. Something that fits, something that means something. Because, really, for most people, their mother did a whole lot of work, they screamed some, maybe some people cried and everyone left delirious and messy. Especially the person just born. But for Rhaeyn and Valaerys, their story was a little bit more exciting. Though their mother had been a skilled healer and had taken care of herself and her growing children, Valaerys was ever contrary, and would not leave the womb. She was breech, blocking both of their exits, until Rhaeyn twisted and kicked until his sister got her head before her feet and entered into the world. And in all of that twisting and kicking, the damnable fool had gotten his umbilical cord about his neck. If he were a shade less wily, he might not have taken his first breath, but as chance befell, he always was rather slippery.
Their birth story, or at least the one they were told, was a good indicator of how much of their life would go. Vala liked to plan, to think, to scheme. She liked to take her time, to watch and learn and make precise, careful movements. Rhaeyn was never as patient as his sister, and had a better head for flights of passion and the reveling that made life enjoyable. He loved and felt and went and did and breathed so deep and just wanted to fly. His sister kept him on the ground, and while sometimes that made him growl at her, the boy did not have wings, no matter how much he wished them, and it was better for them both. Nevertheless, between his adventure and her brains, they got into everything, they needed to know all that occurred around them, and most people had a hard time keeping much of anything from them. They were a menace, though a dear one.
But they had spent their whole lives upon Dragonstone where they had been born. And though in that time, Rhaeyn had drug Valaerys off on many adventures, there was so much more of the world to see. And though he had entertained himself well for years… In the library, in the lower bowels of the keep, all across Dragonstone, with women, with men, with anyone who was sentient and interested, after twenty-one years, Rhaeyn wanted to go. Somewhere. Anywhere.
So with their mother's health never quite what it had been before they were born, and their father being loathe to leave her side, they were given leave to travel on their own. Not to King's Landing, though. There was poverty and danger and deep, dark intrigue there. And the twins who were as bad as temperamental cats when it came to getting into things, they were not going to be sent to King's Landing. So, instead, they are off to Oldtown. It's safer there, quieter there. Right? Well, we shall see.
<These are some things that can give others cause to know about me or RP with me.>
- Blood of the Dragon
- Wealth: Opulent
- Bon Vivant
- Gets Away With Murder
Logs featuring Rhaeyn.
Logs that refer to Rhaeyn.