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The soft thwack of wood was almost rhythmic. Almost.
"Maegor, you need to learn some rhythm," Eyna said softly, smiling at her young son, "The man you were named after is known for many things, but music was not one of them. You can best him at that easily,"
Her sweet boy gurgled at her, his small fist wrapped around the tiniest wooden sword as he thwacked it against the crib he was stuck in. His eyes were already full of mischief, despite his youth. Though Enya had to admit, it was youth that started all the mischief that morphed into daring and foolish notions of invincibility.
Turning her attention to her soft girl, she couldn't help but smile at how Vanya seemed to sleep so silently next to her louder twin. Vanya had always been the quieter of the two. Her eyes were the first to open and stare at the world around her, and since that moment, her inquisitive eyes never took much rest. She would watch as her brother rolled around and took attention, staying silent through it all. In her silence, Vanya would be the first of the two to pull themselves up, the first of the two to take a few steps. Maegor wouldn't be far behind. Seeing her sister walking away seemed to make him stand and walk in an effort to follow her, but it was always Vanya that did the big things first. She just did it silently.
Naenya hummed to herself, pulling herself out of her seat and wandering around her tent. She hadn't spent much time with the hunting group, riding out with them to their first hunting location before bidding them goodbye with the excuse of her children. Realistically, her excuse was similar to Eldens, she just didn't enjoy hunting, especially with the likes of old men.
Of course, it wasn't just her own children she was concerned about.
"Bring her in," Naenya called out to Ser Loren, who was speaking softly outside the tent.
Rhaenyra walked through the tent entrance, her hunting garments and pure white hair adorned with dried blood. Naenya waved towards the seats as she sat down herself. Rhaenyra held the same scowl that had begun to become terribly common on the young princess' face.
The Gods had not been kind to Rhaenyra recently. No kind soul deserved to lose both a mother and best friend in one fell swoop. Not only was it enough to lose her closest companion, but to be forced to see that same dead companion every single day sitting in the chairs their mother had once occupied, standing in the same spots and being called the same honorifics. And, to be pushed into the last section of hell, Rhaenyra had to call her dead companion's child brother.
Though, Naenya couldn't help but feel sorry for Alicent Hightower too. It wasn't just Rhaenyra that lost their closest companion. And while Alicent didn't lose her mother in the same few months, Alicent did lose her youth. A youth Alicent was supposed to have for a few years still.
The situation seemed like a cruel joke. But the Gods only knew that type of humour; it was their fatal flaw.
Naenya held her hand out as Rhaenyra strode towards her. The tense clenching in Rhaenyra's jaw only relaxed once the two she-dragon's hands connected, Rhaenyra squeezing Naenya's hand tightly as she sat beside her.
