"WE'VE SENT A CARRIAGE to send off your belongings to Riverrun, princess." Jeyne Arryn smiled softly. Visenya was lovely, and though her time with Prince Jacaerys in the Eyrie was hectic, the lady would have to admit the two brought out a better company than any other.

"I am most grateful, Lady Arryn." Visenya curtsied as Jacaerys fixed Vermax's saddle behind her. It would be a tight fit, and it would be hours until they arrived at Riverrun. The thought had certainly made Jacaerys feel nervous, spending hours so close to his rival.

"Shall we?" Jace questioned princess Visenya after bidding his own goodbyes to the lady and her dearest companion. Visenya gave him a curt nod as she walked behind Jacaerys whilst he led her to Vermax, the Ill Tempered.

The dragon's throat clicked, smoke coming out of his nose as he huffed at the sight of Visenya. But with Jacaerys's High Valyrian commands (which held an accent and a slight mispronunciation that Visenya snorted at, but did not comment) The dragon seemed to relent at the orders of his rider, allowing Jacaerys to help Visenya onto his saddle.

"Simply...hold on tight." Jacaerys cleared his throat awkwardly, as if to make his voice sound more mature.
Hot breath hitting the back of Visenya's neck, hearts racing in a dance amidst each other. "Yeah," Visenya answered in a whisper, holding on unnecessarily tighter to the saddle as Jacaerys took the reins.

Visenya for the first time in her ten and five years of age could see the world from above. She had always declined Helaena's offers, Aemond was too protective of Vhagar and Aegon...was Aegon.
She was enamored with the land below her, with the wind that blew her white hair—the only evidence of who she was. They'd say Targaryens were closer to gods than to men, but that was because of their dragons. Visenya was a goddess without what made her a god.

The only princess without a dragon, a girl cursed with an unhatched egg, an unclaimed rider. And still, she was more resourceful than many, using her weakness to gather her support. A visionary.

Jacaerys grew more interested in seeing the gleam of happiness in Visenya's actions—her, whose eyes were colder than the winter in the North, whose face always showed a lack of emotion.

𓆰𓆪

The tour was nearly over, with Dorne being the only land left for them to visit. The Targaryen royals would not visit the North, not because of an invitation but because their schedules grew busy in their absence and because they missed home. Throughout their tour, Visenya and Jacaerys maintained a good relationship with each other, showcasing their house's strength and alliance. But their arguments and the undeniable tension was still there, behind closed doors.

Jacaerys grew restless with the false politeness of the lords and lady, a man made of sin. He did not belong, and the entirety of Kings Landing knew of this—and he knew of it as well. His body burned with the shame of not belonging. Visenya noticed, and somehow their comments always brought the realization that she was just as a sinner for growing to care more and more for Jacaerys Velaryon—a bastard, a boy born of sinful acts by what they'd whisper to be a whore of a mother.

And it kept her on her toes, her teeth clenching for a snarky remark in defense of her nephew. But the morals she was raised in by her hateful mother stopping her from such sayings.

There was tension when the Targaryen royals reached Sunspear, it was a known fact that Dorne and the Targaryen rule was strained since the conquest. Dorne had allied themselves with the Triarchy four years after the War of the Stepstones. So it came to a surprise when Dorne had invited the touring Targaryens to join them for the week.

"Prince Qoren." Both Jacaerys and Visenya bowed before the head of Dorne and the prince greeted the royals with their significant titles.

"I must say, your grace, your invitation came to us hy surprise." Visenya was the first to speak, being the most elegant and who could sway any to cling by her legs with her grace.

Prince Qoren let out a rispid laugh, "And how could I not greet the Prince and Princess of the Seven Kingdoms in my own home?" There was a dangerous tone in his voice, though the ruler of Dorne did not mean harm—even when he allied himself with the Triarchy and the ongoing war in the Stepstones.

Dornishmen were smart, and harming the darling of the Seven Kingdoms, Princess Visenya along with the eldest son of the heir of the Iron Throne would be a political headache. And though Rhaenys the Conqueror was long dead, he did not wish for the dragons to dance and scorch Dorne as it had tried once.

Though the tension between lands grew ever the more dangerous with the presence of Jace and Visenya. They had grown fond of the warmth of Dorne.
Jacaerys was not treated like a hated bastard for once in his lifetime, and Visenya had grown fond of seducing and torturing the Dornishmen.
This of course, led to strange feelings for Jacaerys.
How he hated the way she was happy, how she laughed and placed her cold hands on the chests of proud warriors.
Dorne was an adventure for Visenya, a freedom she longed for like no other.

And so came the end of the week, and with it, a tournament. Prince Jacaerys had joined the joust valiantly—he'd prove his worth to the Dornishmen who mocked him until he joined the party.
He was not on good terms with Visenya, not upon seeing her with them. He grew jealous without even noticing his own emotions.

Jacaerys rode a white horse, a juxtaposition of his brown hair. And though the fight was hard, he was able to manage fairly well to make it to the finals—The Dornishmen went fairly easy on the prince, after all, there was no way a boy of ten and six from Kings Landing could defeat fighters who trained since they were born.

Visenya did not cheer for any fighter, her handkerchief was not given to any jouster. Not even Jacaerys—why should he have her blessing when he had refused to speak with her for the entirety of the week? She did not understand his frustration and neglect towards her, and she grew angry with the bastard prince.
Jacaerys grew sloppy from the joust, his cheeks reddened. His brown locks stuck to his forehead as sweat dripped down his face onto his neck.

"He does not hold his sword correctly." Visenya made several comments about the tournament, Prince Qoren noted this well. And he came to the realization that Visenya knew more about swordsmanship than a lady from the West. "You seem to have advanced knowledge of swordsmanship, princess." Qoren Martell commented, "I'll have you know, Dorne does not hold the same customs as the West. If you'd like to pick up a sword and fight, then I will encourage you all the way forward." How interesting this was for Qoren. The Realms Emerald, known for her ladylike manner and a reputation as a lady awaiting for a savior to know fairly well about what were a man's hobbies.

"Why not fight Prince Jacaerys?" He suggested, when Jace's rival fell to the floor and Jace grinned at the sight of victory. Visenya considered the offer, she had not practiced for months with Aemond. And the thought of having the hilt of a sword on her hands made her crave it like Aegon craved his cups and whores.

"If you'd allow it, your grace." Visenya agreed, practically salivating for the chance of winning a tournament.

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guys omg short chapter bc I just returned from my travels and I'm tired asf which is why my writting is sloppy.
Also time skip for the whole tour thing because I dont wanna drag it out for like fourty chapters until we get back to the series. So I am very sorry for those who are enjoying the tour plot and if anything gets a bit confusing 😔🙏😭😭