#ZEITKEIST FT. BIANCA DI ANGELO.

[usyrps]

A CORONATION IS ABLUTION, BESTOWED THE REALM IN THE EYES OF THE SEVEN. his mother's faith weighs on him as her presence does, and her voice comes instead of his own when he deems to speak. in soothe, he had not spoken much since the crown had been placed 'pon his brow, and the days had come and gone swiftly, lost in heeding his council members — when he opens his mouth, he wishes it were sunfyre's golden flame that would seep from betwixt his maw and burn down the keep, the city, the world. all that comes are the hoarse ramblings of a drunken king.

in the ill half-light of dying candles, amidst the king and queens chambers, this eve of blackest hue turns shades of red, deeper than the wine swirling in his cup. ❛ do they ever tire of their ambitions? ❜ the king rants into the air, more to himself than his wife, who surely has no shortage of her own desires. her house had waved his half-sister's banner in oath, yet she wears his ring. he does not begrudge her this, in his apathy, but his grandsire does. that, too, had been addressed at the meeting.

QUEEN BIANCA SAID, THE ODD THING ABOUT AMBITION IS THIS: YOU CAN ACQUIRE IT LIKE A FEVER, BUT IT IS NOT SO EASY TO SHED.

@zeitkeist speaks to him across the room, the shadow of her swaying on the wall and blurring with his own. THIS IS THE QUEEN IN CHAGRIN, IN CONTEMPLATION. she admonishes him. he knows, but does not care. for the better half of their marriage, he had not endured much of her company, nor she his own. when they had been privy to each other, it had been with their skins worn like armour, the formalities cold. gaze turns to his wife's irked figure, a brow arched in what might be gnarled amusement, wrought of frustration.

❛ i am not prone to sickness, ❜ aegon scoffs, throwing one leg over the other as he leans into the plush of the settee, ❛ even as a babe, fever never came for me. ❜ even as a child, his heart had been hollow, with none of his sister's whims nor his brother's vocation, only his own craven appetites. his council sees this, as does his hand, as does his wife. he cannot appease them with his silence, nor sway them with his words, and so he is bound to displease them all.

that his words keep spiralling is a testament to the fine constitution of the wine. that he manages to stand and stumble forth is testament only to his own tragedy. ❛ the blood of the dragon does not burn. ( arm wraps 'round the high frame of the bed, before he loses balance and clutches the edge of it to sit, ) are we not gods, above the caprice of men? ambition seems trifling now, that they've already crowned me, us. what have we left to do? ❜ he laughs, droplets of wine spilling upon the myrish rug, ❛ does the realm envisage me a god, i wonder— ❜

BIANCA GRIPS HIS JAW TO MAKE HIM LOOK HER IN THE EYE.

HER CLAWS SINK INTO HIS JAW WITH MORE KINDNESS THAN HE IS DUE. for a moment, in the haze, he imagines his mother's hand upon his cheek, and all he can feel is the sting of it. this is different. bianca demands of him his gaze, not his dignity. aegon think to snap at her, grasp her wrist, breathe his own fire — alas, she has right to seethe, for his frivolity. throat works to swallow, unshed tears sparkling with the violet of his eyes, ❛ i'm— i'm sorry. ❜ she knows this yet he confesses all the same, as though she might grant him penance. she wouldn't, and she does not. ❛ it evades me, the purpose of this. i've no wish to pursue their ambitions... ❜

[denouemente]

rhaenyra was never one to be devout — a casual believer, all her knowledge from a friendship that had long since fizzled and burned into ash. she knows she'd be utterly alone if not for bianca, left to question her place among the men of her father's small council and of her future kingdom. hearing what she'd just heard was common at this point, questioning her position as heir when he now had a son, aegon ii. she didn't know what it was this time, but it struck her to her core. thankfully, bianca was exactly where rhaenyra anticipated she would be, and she ran to her without stopping.

“ i'm sick of wondering if or when my father will remove my birthright and bestow it on my brother. ” the word felt foreign on her tongue, i will never be a son. “ sometimes, i wonder if having my future planned is worse than not. i hate this feeling that i'm going to plan everything around the throne, and that it will be taken from me with no say. ”

@zeitkeist: when you're ready to hear what the gods have in store for you, they'll tell you.

it takes everything inside of her not to look too outwardly disappointed, each mention of the gods feeling like another blow to her already bruised ego. but she values bianca's opinion and presence, so she offers her a rather forced smile, one that doesn't reach her eyes. “ mayhaps i'd be happier with the gods if they'd just tell me. ” she sighs, folding her arms over her chest. “ i don't have time to wait around for the gods while some lord tries to convince my father i'm not a worthy heir. ” she sighs, staring up at the ceiling. “ maybe they'll talk to you before they talk to me. what are they saying? ”

[usyrps]

KING AEGON II TARGARYEN, THE PEOPLE'S KING, AND QUEEN BIANCA OF HOUSE HADES, THE KINGMAKER.

( &. @zeitkeist, ft. bianca di angelo. ) art ©

[eueclid]

“ I think a better question would be what haven't I done to draw their ire? I show too much interest in my siblings, the queen thinks I'm trying to contaminate their minds. I spend too little time with them, I don't care for my family. I cannot win, no matter what I do. ” It feels good to voice it aloud to someone who may actually care — she knows that Bianca cares, even when her father does not. To have her concerns addressed rather than tossed aside to please a girl who would love nothing more than the downfall of the Targaryens feels better than she could ever express.

Lithe fingers move up to caress the petals of the lily, a smile forms on her lips and she's happy. “ Thank you. ” It's such a simple pleasure, flowers, yet this one lily means more than the bouquets and gardens she's been given as a means to win her hand. “ One day, I'll take you. There's no safer flyer than Syrax. She's so careful, there's no way she'd let you fall. ” She's also the fastest dragon in the seven kingdoms — but she won't tell Bianca that if she doesn't already know. “ Once my father and the queen calm themselves from my latest disappointment. We'll go together. ”

the princess of the people, beloved and hidden between thorns of roses & the cunning heir of house hades. princess of dragonstone had never shied away from her desire to be on dragonback for all eternity rather than be on a throne, and in the moment, bianca can see why. how she values her life, her freedom, how she holds it in her two good palms like a bird with a broken wing. bianca had never seen something be so resilient and fragile in the same breath. it is a near dizzying sensation, dragonblood a soft tingle beneath pale flesh.

‘ hm, what have you done to draw their frustration? ’ bianca asks, rather teasing. it is no place for her to point same frustrations to rhaenyra, she she simply sees no reason to. delicate fingers skim over the beautiful spine of a lily, before a sudden snap sound cracks through bent knuckles, the flower now split in half. same fingers that have exempted such cruelty, tenderly slides the green spine between princess' ear and her temple. ‘ a beautiful flower for a beautiful girl. ’ she says, pleased with the outcome, pleased with the color it brings on nyra's face. ‘ i don't think i have, no. heights always terrified me. ’ a small confession that comes after a pause, shared only for the royal ears. ‘ you make it seem so effortless, though. ’

[rhaenyrsa]

Her blunt way of speaking causes a smile to form, a crack in the glass. Rhaenyra places her hands against the skirts of her golden gown, head turned to look at Bianca as she listens to her talk about the gardens. What a beautiful place, she thinks, letting out a soft hum as she takes in the feeling of the breeze passing through her platinum hair, and the sounds of the birds being carried on that same breeze. “ I cannot blame you, Bi. This place is beautiful. ” The princess is mesmerized by the purple blossoms that surround them, similarly - colored eyes trained on them until she deems it time to look at Bianca again.

“ I think I was just looking for something new. ” She states rather plainly, now staring ahead. “ The Queen and my father know all my hiding spots by now. If I were to go there, a confrontation with them would be unavoidable. ” The urge to fly away on Syrax grows stronger by the day, but even she knows it wouldn't solve anything. It would make things worse, for her and her kingdom, for her people. “ Have you ever flown on dragonback? It's so freeing, with the wind in your hair and everyone below you looking like ants . . . I think, perhaps I came seeking this because I can't go there. A close second. ”

the iron throne, object of all desires and fears. it is inexorable for a targaryen, a fate that is whispered in newborn ears, a duty to fulfill and a poison that tastes like nectar. they say targaryens are closer to gods than they are to men but as bianca has known them, they had bled like any other. cried, grieved, laughed like any other. half of their power lies in their dragons and the other half lies in the cunning of their queens. alicent was proving a rather influencial queen, just like aemma was. bianca dismisses with another wave of hand. " who gives a fuck what they think? you are the throne. they can bow to you or they can get flattened by syrax. " perhaps crude, but truth is truth. bianca has learned years ago, with the awful things that has been whispered of their family, that not each word was worth worrying over. the tired glance with jade, dead eyes is a clear sign of what she thinks of the topic at hand. " they are men, nyra. thinking is not exactly their strong suit. you are torturing yourself for nothing. "

the question takes her by the surprise, a warm gleam passing the bright color that is brought out by the indigo gown she has been wearing for the day, the chirping of birds and faint wind whistling filling the silence generously. " i haven't really been able to be mesmerized by the other spots, as this one has somehow managed to get all my affections. " she says, after a thought. a lean back at the bench, one leg thrown atop the other as she takes in the queen to be of seven seas. what lucky lands. what lucky woman. " what about you? " she asks the girl, same curiosity. " i don't really recall seeing you in the gardens often. what changed your mind? "

[denouemente]

“ i fear you may be the only one who thinks that way. ” she sees the way people tend to look at her, the way they have begun to treat her differently after being made heir. rhaenyra had hoped it would be temporary — that they’d see she was still the same princess she always was! but years later, they still quieted when she entered the room, looking at her with a mixture of awe and disbelief that she doesn’t know if she likes or finds insulting. perhaps it treads the fine line of being both.

“ it is what always troubles me. ” if she were to share, she would just be regurgitating what she’d already spilled onto bianca’s shoes. “ now that i have a brother, more people are whispering into my father’s ear than before. first, it was in favor of my uncle, who is merely a brute with a title. now, it is in favor of a babe who is little older than three years of age. ” it is then she realizes she doesn’t get much opportunity to speak her mind, and she relishes in it. a lady is to always be prim, proper, and soft - spoken. proper, she is. the others? she never has been and never will be.

the princess quietly exhales, turning once again to look at the blooms that surround the two young women. she can’t recall the last time she got to sit and enjoy simple natures such as these. “ i think i’d like to sit here just a little while longer. ” she says, finally leaning in to inhale the sweet perfume of the orchids that sit beside her. “ perhaps it will do me well to sit among the flowers. ” rhaenyra turns to look at bianca again, offering the other a smile. “ are there any other spots in the garden you favor? or is it just this one? ”

companionship she speaks of, and agony bianca imagines. the realm that is not kind to the most agreeable women will tear apart an abomination like her. the amount of proposals that have been rejected by the house of hades could make a kingdom of their own, the myth of the maiden that refuses to take hand becoming some sort of repulsive challenge she does not wish to partake in. perhaps not the heir of her throne, her much beloved older brother already having been named heir long before her joyous birth, yet still well loved in her family. there is simply no joy in the thought of being wed to an old man with one foot in the grave, no joy in traveling overseas to foreign kingdoms and yearn for the warmth of her friendships and embrace of her family. besides, that is not the only reason she avoids the company rhaenyra speaks of like the plague.

" my taste in company relies in the comfort of my own, princess. " bianca hums, the melody of a silver tone traveling through the rustling leaves like a song. " occassionally my eye does wander to the strong hands and broad shoulders, but it often than not i simply prefer my company soft and delicate the way that i like my flowers. " she offers a small smile, both trustful and amused. judgement has never had been one of the strong suits of princess of dragonstone.

she welcomes nyra to the embrace of her secret haven with the ease of loyalty, with the ease of a friend. " please, " she dismisses the undercurrency of apology in nyra's voice as she asks for permission to remain in her company, waving slender fingers with an easy motion. " what is solitude to the presence of my future queen, anyway? " she nudges nyra's ankle with a foot, a lighthearted gesture, just to entertain her. " do you wish to talk me about whatever's troubling you? "

[denouemente]

she watches bianca carefully, hands clasped behind her back while she speaks. “ i pray your gods will be correct. ” rhaenyra finally says, lilac eyes casting towards the ground. even at such a young age, this was all she wanted — to be a great queen. a good queen was not enough. she wanted to be loved and respected, she wanted people to claim her as theirs just as she claimed them as hers. of course, despite her mind and her heart that bianca claims they will admire, everything she is and does will be determined by the fact she was not born a son.

she turns around, making her way to a low - hanging lilac bush. lithe fingers curl around a bunch of blossoms, taking in their soft sensation against her fingertips before turning around and looking at her friend again. “ why is it you spend so much time here, bianca? surely, someone of your stature is able to find companionship beyond the petals in these gardens. ” it’s not a mean question, but a genuine one. in the way she feels about rhaenyra’s heart and mind, rhaenyra feels about hers. a formidable ally, a loyal friend, a keen mind that’s only dulled by the expectations of her father and the lords of the seven kingdoms. perhaps, with hard work, they could change that together.

finally, she takes a seat beside bianca, letting out a soft sigh as she folds her hands together. part of her is surprised no one has come to find her yet, either at the behest of her father, wishing to see his eldest or at the request of the young queen, likely to scold her for shirking her duties. “ i know you like to be alone here to gather your thoughts, but would you mind if i stayed as well? just so i can gather my own before i face everyone again. ” she looks at her hands, then over at her friend. “ this seems a perfect place for such a task. ”

she should have been a son. a nerves of steel. an admirable brain in that beautiful, white head of hers that could have brought the seven seas on their knees be it with our without the iron throne. half of their friendship was the mourning of all the things they were and all the things they would never get to be simultaneously, as the realm had a way of punishing women solely for existing. still, a defier of the customs of god and men, the heir of house hades stands tall with each step her friend runs to her, the youth still shining on their adolescent cheeks in hues of rose and life that has not been stripped off them yet.

rhaenyra finds her in the gardens, as she has made a habit of visiting the mesmerizing orchids and lilacs in dire need of solitude. still, that need for solitude has always had its weak points when it came to the princess of dragonstone.

❛ he might. ❜ bianca concludes, seeing no point in empty consolations. they know better. they have learned better. slender fingers move over the rosemary that still has the morning dew on it. ❛ he might take it all your existence from you and you'd be expected to thank his grace for sparing you the air. ❜ she gives a knowing look to the dragonrider. ❛ but that does not mean you are ought to bow. it is not your royal blood that makes you special. ❜ a reach that has born out of comfort of sharing their first steps together, the same fingers that smell of rosemary tap lightly on rhaenyra's temple. ❛ it is this. ❜ then, the same fingertips rest over her beating heart, a fleeting touch. ❛ and this. you are a formidable creature, nyra. you will do as you will and the realm will pull itself together around you. just have to have fortitude enough to remain in the center of their orbit. ❜

she knows, experience. her house has always been whispered about, the abomination that they are. house hades and their ungodly customs that has made for a woman that speaks too freely and a lord that has taught her to do so. love is fleeting but respect is earned. bianca wears the crest proudly. with the question, she gives rhaenyra an undecipherable grin. ❛ they are saying you will be the greatest queen this land has ever seen. you have the bones of a king. the gods can tell and so can i. ❜