BATTLE READY WITH a large sword in her grasp, Dornish armor running down her back. Funnily enough, this tournament was not the usual one with long sticks acting as the swords to throw down man from their horses—they used real swords, they bled real blood. Perhaps this was a game to Qoren, wanting to test the durability of the royal prince in case of an war against the Targaryen Dynasty and Dorne. But now, the princess entered the tournament with the macabre craving of spilling blood.

And Visenya was not one to lose.

She rode down a black horse, differing from her legitimate Targaryen hair. The differences between the two teenagers were at large, having opposite colored horses and opposite colored hairs.

Jacaerys grew uneasy, what was Visenya doing? He did not wish to harm her, he never wished it once. Yes, he hated her, but make the princess bleed? Now, that was excessive.

"If you allow me to win this, I will hurt you ten thousand times worse." Visenya whispered, a threat. Changing her personality like letting a fire die down and igniting another. "First to draw blood from their opponent, wins!" Qoren Martell announced with a sadist smile. He would never harm the princess and the prince —that would be too big of a political headache— but...they could harm each other.

Jacaerys did not utter a word, for he knew her promise was heavy—and Visenya did not bark, she bit like a wild, rabid, famished dog. He centered on his anger, he centered on the fact he'd be taken as a jest should he allow the princess to win this. He did not have to cut her down, only draw the tiniest bit of blood for him to win.

But little did he know that the curse Visenya was met with, was her biggest shame. Mayhaps Visenya had chosen idiocy over intelligence. Mayhaps she was more arrogant and proud than she believed to be.

And so, the announcement was proclaimed. And the prince and the princess rode on their horses fast.
Visenya channeled her inner anger as she was the first to strike down the white horse, his fur now dirty with blood and dirt. Jacaerys head clamored from the fall, but he stood up before Visenya could get to him.

Visenya jumped from the black horse, confidently twirling the hilt of her sword as she approached Jacaerys calmly. Shouts were heard throughout the stadium, bets were placed and arguments were made.
The cold wind blew violently, there was a clash of swords. And the realization that Visenya had revealed the cards under her sleeves was observed. She was no innocent princess who had a keen point of observation—she knew how to fight, she knew how to fight all too well.

Jacaerys furrowed his eyes, had she been pretending? What more laid hidden before her apathetic face and a fake idolized image created for her?

This version of Visenya could be the reincarnation of her namesake itself. And it had always been kept on a tight leash by the false pretense of a life she lived in. But it was always there, with its monstrous carnal need of brutalized violence. Anger must not be bottled up for long, or else it shall flood the world. And Visenya had never learned how to swim.

They fought for long, each offense was met with defense. Jacaerys breath grew weary, and Visenya truly believed she'd win. However her arrogance was her worst attribute, and the lesson she'd learn was to never celebrate a win that has not been claimed.
And finally, sword met flesh. Blood dripped down the ground they stood in. But this was not bastard blood shed. It was not crimson red. It was darker than that.

A trail of blood coursed down the lengths of Visenya's pale wrists. Jacaerys dropped his sword, going to Visenya's care when in a fit of shock and anger she struck down the prince's wrist likewise. Blood was spilled between the royals, a shared wound caused by themselves. Visenya got what she wanted, but that was no victory in her mind.

And Jacaerys, learned her most gruesome secret. That the coloration of her blood was abnormal. And a million questions ran through his mind, which discarded the fact that Visenya had stricken him after he had won the duel.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you, the winner of today's tourney...Prince Jacaerys Velaryon!" Prince Qoren shouted. Applaud from his supporters resonated within the stands.
But there was no victorious grin on Jacaerys lips, he had harmed Visenya. And in her manic state she delivered a cut on him she showed no remorse for.

"You fought strongly, prince." Visenya said in a rispid tone. And Jacaerys's eye traveled down her black smeared arm, causing Visenya to clench her jaw and turn away. How idiotic was she? Revealing her secrets to a rival kingdom, revealing her worst secret to her enemy.

When Visenya was safe from prying arms, in the quarters she was given. She cried. All anger was gone, and now only sadness and embarrassment was left in her soul. Dark eyes looking up at the ceiling as salty tears streaked down her cheeks.

𓆰𓆪

The Princess avoided any contact with Jacaerys, knowing he'd ask questions she could not find lies to answer for. With a bandaged arm she requested a carriage of Prince Qoren, which he obliged.

"Must you seriously ride from Dorne all the way to King's Landing?" Jacaerys asked once he caught the glimpse of platinum hair and the faint sound of heels clacking against the floors. Visenya had returned to green, a color palette she should've never discarded.
Green was symbolic, symbolic as the dark hues of blue and red Jacaerys wore. It meant she sided with the Queen, her mother. It meant power and war.
And Visenya had lost all her senses, all her previous beliefs and knowledge once she chose to dress in red. When she chose to see her rival as everything but.

"It was what I should've done in the first place." There it was, that rigid, cold and, heartless tone in the princess voice. She gave him no cues to speak, leaving the scene.  Jacaerys was dumbfounded, had she meant his kindness was a mistake? oh confound it all! Why must his kindness be repayed with hatred?!

Why must she search for the attention of other man when he was following her around like a dog who wished for his owner's care?

And heaven's why, was he acting like that in the first place when he hated her?

𓆰𓆪

Once Visenya returned to Kings Landing, it was clear for her mother to see the distress in her face. It was clear she hid something in her sleeves.
Alicent grew angered, news that the princess and the bastard prince rode together all around Westeros was of course known to her. It was her personal lord of whisperers, Lord Larys Strong whom she received the news from.

"You hide something from me." Alicent affirmed upon barging in her youngest daughter's room.
"No. I do not. I am simply tired from my travels." Visenya answered in a grunt, laid in her bed.

"And now you lie to your queen and mother." Alicent sighed tiredly. Must she also put up with Visenya's misbehavior? Was Aegon not enough? Had the freedom Visenya was granted to tour around Westeros without company caused her to turn on her own mother?

"You and Jacaerys toured together, did you not? When you could've come home, when you could've changed ways. You chose to disobey me when I have always warned you that boys like him are no good!" Alicent shouted.

"So I should've left? So that the whole realm could see that our house has been split into halves so adamantly that they can not spend months together? Putting up a firm front? It was an act, mother. You know how I hate that man! How I've hated him since I can remember! And the feeling is mutual!" Visenya shouted back, pushing a strand of hair back. The sleeves of her nightgown lifted up, and a bandage laid in place of her flesh.

"What is this?" Alicent grabbed her daughter's arm, inspecting the wound closely. The only wound Visenya have had was the scar that ran down her cheek and when her head had cracked open in the floors of the Sept—both wounds that occurred five years ago.

"A cut?" Visenya clicked her tongue, looking away from her mother's curious gaze.
"And how come you have cut yourself, Visenya!" Alicent groaned in annoyance at the rebellious teenager.

"I cannot seem to remember. Perhaps I've had another episode and cut my wrist. May I rest, your grace?" Visenya huffed annoyedly, she had no excuses to give. And she could not say she had received the wound from Jacaery's sword, in a duel in which she participated.

Perhaps it was to protect the boy, who'd suffer worse consequences if it was known that he had harmed her. And after all, what happens in Dorne, stays in Dorne.

"Did anyone see it?" Alicent rubbed her eyes. A cursed daughter, victim of old witchery in a holy place. Alicent was perhaps the most religious woman in The Seven Kingdoms, it was her escape from her life of torment.

"No, I assure you that." Visenya sighed wearily as Alicent sighed in relief.

End of act one.

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guys I literally forgot to add chapters for acts in the beginning😭😭 will do it tomorrow though!