????? ????? 彡 [d. targaryen] [?]

*ೃ༄𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐌𝐎𝐈𝐋

There was this comforting silence constricting Laena Velaryon as the little girl sat on the bed within her aunt's chambers, the Princess in question settled next to her with a goblet of wine in hand. Swirling the sour beverage around, Elaehra lifted the cup up to her lips and drained its contents before Laena had another chance to beg for a taste of the wine. The Velaryon girl dramatically sighed and continued to braid the portion of Elaehra's hair she picked out when barging into her chambers.

The moment between them was a nice change of pace from the depressing sight Elaehra had to endure in the early hours of the afternoon. As the moon took its place in the night sky, the young woman recalled the funeral held for the late Queen Aemma and her newborn son. All throughout the ceremony, Elaehra Targaryen was suspended on the verge of vomiting up whatever she had to eat during midday. Honestly, she couldn't remember. Everything slipped Elaehra's mind when she was forced to witness Viserys' solemn expression and Rhaenyra's tearful face.

All the nights Elaehra wasted praying for her cousin to have a daughter simply did not matter anymore. She regretted every minute she spent agonizing over what the future held for herself and Daemon. All her selfish desires came at a price—a family broken by not one but two deaths on the same day. Her husband kept his title as heir to the throne. Both of them got what they wished for so many years. Even so, Elaehra could almost feel the guilt clawing away at her. She felt bile rise in her throat when mental images of Rhaenyra's red, bloodshot eyes flashed in her mind—the way she cried for her mother and the brother she never got to meet.

And yet, in contrast with his wife's deteriorating emotional state, Daemon had no issue reveling in the fact that his title would not be challenged. Elaehra, however, was not furious about her husband's decision to leave her drowning in sorrow nor was she shocked. The Princess could only be grateful for being left behind in the Red Keep. She liked the quiet. She liked being alone with her worries and thoughts. And now that her niece decided to visit, Elaehra began to feel more content. Laena's gentle fingers worked through her aunt's hair, expertly braiding the loose strands together.

There was concentration etched across the little girl's flawless visage, her brown irises darting along to check the quality of the braid and occasionally tilting her head to make sure that there was no hair out of place. The serenity inside of Elaehra's chambers seemed to fade away slowly when her niece chose to ask about something that had been plaguing her mind for the longest while.

"When did you bond with Aermys, Aunt Elaehra? She is such a beautiful creature and I believe she too knows that."

"At the same age that most Targaryens meet their designated dragons: her egg was placed in my cradle when I was a babe. Your mother was the one who chose the egg for me. If I recall she once said that elegance deserved elegance and there's truly no dragon more distinguished than Aermys."