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⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ °• ☼ CHAPTER ONE: FIRE-HEARTS ☾ •°⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯
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R H A E N O R A
THE SUMMER'S MORNING was speckled in drops of golden sun, the smell of cakes wafting through the courtyard air, coupled with the remains of nightly rain in the wet earth, and the sound of ringing steel.
Battle was a language, and Rhaenora knew it well—the deadly dance of iron and copper, the spray and rhythm of blood and mud between her fingertips, and the movements graceful and deadly like a performer painted with blades. Her other sisters had poetry or arts to speak, Rhaenora only had war.
The curve of her spear glided through the air, slicing the wind like she was cutting through silk, and smashed against her opponent's weapon. A rapier, just as gold as Rhaenora's own, thinner, but just as courageous. A girl with bone-silver hair was her contender, sweat beading on her brow as she concentrated. Violet eyes shone in the morning sun. She lunged with poise, yet little consideration.
"You're not thinking, Daenerea," Rhaenora observed, easily striking her sister's sword away. She could have had her yield in a moment, with Rhaenora's spear held at the younger girl's throat. But there was false victory in easy battle, and Daenerea needed to learn. Her sister pinched her lips, eyes sharp like cuts of amethyst. She said nothing, and Rhaenora could see how hard she was trying to bring her thoughts back to the training. "Your mind is elsewhere, what are you thinking of?"
Daenerea lunged at Rhaenora, catching her off guard, and the dulled sword nicked the silver armour on Rhaenora's shoulder. Daenerea gritted her teeth and blocked Rhaenora's next fearsome strike. "Nothing." Her voice was insistent, courageous, false. If Rhaenora knew nothing, she would have thought her dear, poetic sister was telling the truth, but Rhaenora knew her sisters more than anything else in the world.
"Nothing?" echoed Rhaenora, voice in a tease. She stepped around Daenerea's lithe form, her younger sister holding her sword tight in both hands, violet gaze revealing the truth. "No one?" When Daenerea's eyes opened wide, Rhaenora laughed in triumph and ducked around her.
Daenerea's pink lips pulled into a frown, "It's no one, I promise."
Rhaenora smile coyly, spear spinning in her fingertips. "So 'no one' is why you sneak out your window at night to visit the gardens? You're not the stealthiest of our sisters, I'll tell you that, nor are your mutters as you try to cling to the vines." Daenerea's pale face pinkened and she threw two consecutive slashes towards Rhaenora. The older girl caught them with the length of her spear. "Unless it's a prince waiting to whisk you away and make you his queen, father won't allow it."
