"You man are a whore, you shall never touch my body."
"We will see."
House Velaryon survived the murder of Targaryen blood lines during Roberts Rebellion. The Velaryon name had long lost its luster with little to no wealth left to it. Monford Velary...
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"Doran if you do not rise from this bed I will hunt Oberyn down and make him stick you in a viper pit!" Even the sheepish woman in front of hims threats could not sway him to smile. Doran had lost all hope.
"For so long I have been strong and resilient Vaelerys. For so long I have plotted my vengeance and waited patiently for the Gods to bring my enemies justice, and this is how they repay me. Me causing the death of my son."
The young woman sighed as she stared out the windows. Doran had pleaded with her to stay by his side these few days. They lounged in his room silently, feeling the absence of Quentyn. Occasionally Vaelerys would read to him.
"You did not kill your son. His own foolishness did. No man in his right mind would try to climb on the back of a dragon. He was lusting for power, common amongst second sons."
Her own brother flashed before her eyes; Aurane upon the deck of a ship, salty air blowing his goldensilver locks, a smile on his lips below his mustache. He looked free, always having told her the seas made me him feel infinite.
Second sons were born with the liberty neither first born sons or daughters were permitted. They lacked the responsibility required of an heir or a maiden made for wedlock. They could do as they wish. But in the end they always desired what the eldest brother had that they could never possess, power.
"I should not have reached to the Targaryens again. Arianne was supposed..." His voice faded at the end as though he had regretted speaking.
She remained silent as she fiddled with the chess pieces upon Doran's table. She paid no mind to the mahogany door which cracked across the room. A peering brown eye watching the two.
"You planned to marry her to Viserys Targaryen didn't you? That's why you waited so long to marry her off. You wanted to make a queen of her. A girl of her status should have been off and married by sixteen, usually fourteen. She is now twenty and three with still no approved suitors. And I know very well you married me into your family because I have Targaryen blood."
Doran sat up his eyes bewildered. She paid him no mind as she pushed the black king down with a hard flick of the white queen's base, the crown held in her fingertips.
"The king was my cousin after all."
Doran paused as he thought of his next words wisely.
"Prince Rhaegar was a good man. He loved his children, my niece and nephew. But fate had damned him a hurt man with a good heart. Elia could not give him what he needed. Elia was tender, soft, and unmoving, much like a summer pond. Prince Rhaegar was a fallen ember who needed the wind to ignite his flame ...to dethrone his father in order to save his families dynasty. I do not blame him for falling in love with Lyanna Stark. Though born of ice and frost, she was a wild fire that consumed his starving heart. I'm sure she was not the only woman he turned to, there's at least one other I know of that he found solace in. Elia was never miserable only except at the Tourney of Harrenhall. She knew her and Rhaegar were not meant to be. I do not blame him for my sisters death. Tywin Lannister killed my sister. The Lannisters are my enemies, not the Targaryens."
