𓂉 𝐌𝐀𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍 dedicated her life to concealing her true lineage. She wrapped the trails of her silver-bound hair in silks and cottons,stored away from watchful eyes. Neigh did the purple of her eyes ever see the light of day. No...
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31st SUNRISE,TWELFTH MOON,120 AC; DRAGONSTONE
"THROUGH THE AGES,NEW AND OLD,Targaryens have ridden the saddles of winged beasts. Their dragon-blooded bodies of silver hair and purple eyes ,fused with the large creatures of only teeth and scales. Their gilded wings drove shadows across the realm,and mayhaps- became the very thing that stole them the iron throne. Aegon the Conquerer,first of his name, will forever brand into the history books of grand maesters and westerosi folk alike,macabre tales of the many victories inking into the steel of his third hand Blackfyre,and of his sister wives Rhaenys and V-"
"You know-I would never have fought blood and sweat for that book if I'd have known you'd never part with it"
The piercing shriek of a womanly voice shook young Maella from her bespout. It was teasing and familiar,yet had her flinching at its abruptness. She recoiled,snapping the leather-bound case of the book clutched between the pale skin of her fingers shut with the haste of a falcon,and turned-the silver of her hair whipping around the porcelain of her face. She grinned sharply,her godly features set alight by only the small flicker of a wax candle set at her side,seeping into the wood of its garish stand "Mother"
"Daughter" greeted the brunette,her tone clamming with amusement-ailed by the stretch of a smile that pulled at the aged lines of her cheeks,and she began unsteadily paving her way through the stacks of literature strewn across the splintered wooden floors-each accounts derived from grand maesters,or long-departed assailants of the crown,tarnished and greying with age "I thought you had no interest in the doings of the targaryens"
Maella pulled a face replicating one of perplex-ion,and she shook her head tightly in dismissal "I never said that! Only that I have no respect for people who rob from the poor to feed their own greed" Her tone teased at the plump skin of her lips,dipping the dimples of her cheeks. Her words were spiteful-malicious,spat with an air of resounding vexation that had her mother shrinking beneath its sharp blade "Besides,their rich history is quite captivating" she traced the title of the book with the skin of her fingers,engraved and emboldened in sheets of gold. 'The tales of the Targaryens-Scribed by grand Maester Culiper' It was a wonder her mother had managed to find something so sought after. The mere thought made Maella's stomach churn uneasily.
Marissa chortled a muffled laugh beneath the crinkled skin of her fingers,and moved to sit at her found daughters covered feet. The straw bed creaked beneath the hold of her feather-like weight,and she shuffled uneasily atop the cotton sheet,sharp points marking the covered skin of her back "Your sharp tongue will get you maimed one day daughter,lest your treasonous words be overheard by a rat" Her words were sharp,yet her soft hands were not,as they began carding through the long tendrils of Maella's hair,brushing and plying the knots that festered beneath.
