ARSONIST'S LULLABYE | open + au

it was actually exhaustng, mentally and physically, in the case of such lavish events. kloun had been but an adolescent when he was whisked away into the house of targaryen, taken in as charity case more so than an actual member given the fact of his heritage and status, and so various manners and correct ways of addressing others had indeed been taught to the now twenty odd something youth who stood clad in rather unimpressive clothes; but the ideology behind each carefully crafted phrase was still one which baffled the targaryen knight.

as per usual, the young man stood out quite brilliantly against the crowd gathered- even so from the others who'd been deemed knights. for amongst the fair nobles of targaryen heritage with locks of ivory and lovely hues of faint violet- they were the moon and he the sun. of dornish origins, kloun possessed bronze toned skin alongside ebony hair in which resembled an ebony night sky whilst his gaze seemed to have stolen away the black's missing stars. for his eyes were quite striking, golden like that of the very crown which weighed down upon king tsubodai's temples, despite holding within them an off-setting form of beastality. and the matter of his structure, being that of slender rather than masculine, alongside the fact he daunted no armor made many quirk eyebrows at the elidged knight. but kloun didn't mind; for he found the heavy pieces of metal only got in his way. if he were stupid enough to be marred by an opponet's blade, then he deserved the gash that stung the with pain.

kloun's presence at the event was inevitable, for dhaenys and visenya were undoubtedly going to attend the ceremonies and at such a place and event any form of threat could take place. thus their loyal dog had followed in the traces of their footsteps. the knight had been standing towards the side, amber gaze observing the room carefully as he focused upon all within it, namely the twins he owed the world too, but at the sound of clicking boots against wooden stairs, kloun found himself snapping his neck to view the person coming forward. his face had been quite frightening, one of cruelty and a promise of death, until he realized who it was.

the little prince caused the former killer's features to shift into one of odd gentility, as a form off-setting concern shone within darkened hues and a gentle smile of hallowed pain pulled against parsley lips. "You should be more careful, young lord," kloun noted, tone soft and seemingly genuine as he appeared to take on an expression one would expect from a nurse maid rather than a knight. "Running down those steps so recklessly- especially a stair case so long, you could trip and hurt yourself." he knew of ren. the boy was a bastard, kloun was himself. and he'd heard the whispers through gritted teeth passing down the ivory hallways. there was a kind of kinship amongst bastards, though he doubted ren would understand that quite yet.

Bastards weren't uncommon in Westeros. Hell, even Lucerys was technically a bastard but that was distinction was largely irrelevant given the fact that he was the son to the current High King of Westeros and the BlizzardClan leader, a son to two true Targaryens - although his true parentage wasn't very publicly disclosed. His twin brother was another former High King and before him stretched a long and proud lineage of Targaryen monarchs. Lucerys didn't keep himself afloat solely on his relations to powerful people however, and although he had always been content to follow his elder brother Jaehaerys and now his father's will, Lucerys worked his way up to his knight ship by his own merits before, and even after he had left the position behind for a new life outside, had returned to Westeros and was eventually titled Lord of Dragonstone. His holdings were reserved to one stronghold thus far but nevertheless he was proud - Dragonstone was the ancestral seat of house Targaryen, the island from which Aegon the Conqueror had launched his conquest of Westeros from.

He had seen Ren hovering around the dark hallways of Dragonstone before, but given his father's fondness for whoring, hadn't given much particular thought to the younger Targaryen. His father had a whole fleet of bastards in Westeros and beyond, and throughout his life he had only found himself acquainted with a handful. It was more than likely - a simple fact of life - that he would never meet all of his relations, and frankly Lucerys wasn't too bothered. Although he was loyal to house Targaryen above the Iron Throne itself, he was beginning to find that he could not trust all of his half-siblings unreservedly.

Watching Ren and Kloun through pale grey eyes - eyes inherited from his paternal and maternal grandmother, the former High Queen Eurydice Targaryen - the fair-haired lord ambled over to join them, his dark cloak trailing after his steps. "Your first time in court?" he glanced to the child idly. His eyes shifted towards Kloun, vaguely wondering after the whereabouts of his half-sisters, particularly of Rhaenys.

Must to her own liking her inhabitance was not that of Dragonstone. It was much further away up toward the northern lands and dusted with mountains that reached far into the sky. It was a place she had asked her father for when she had been given the title of Lady for the sole purpose of keeping her plans and ideas from getting out into the open. Thus it had taken her some time to travel to Dragonstone with her own accompaniment. Still she had managed it and had gone through the ceremony with ease. It was no true secret that their father was a whoring man and she did not find it in herself to be too upset over the circumstances of her birth. The opposite really because with blood came power and her power was instilled in the Targaryen name just as it had once been in the blood of her mother who had once been a Khaleesi. With eyes of dark purple that held the tint of tarnished blood the bronze skinned woman watched the others that were currently speaking, wary of her presence here but she did not mind it. No, she simply observed and continued to offer no real conversation. Instead she picked up an apple, a small one and carried it with her. Long black hair trailed down her back in soft curls that swayed as she moved and she spotted her family. Lucerys usually took up much of her attention but this time around she was more interested in these other half breeds that were roaming Dragonstone. One she knew was a loyal dog to her twin sisters and another was a bastard child with a stammering problem. Both she had yet to really take notice of herself but here she was now and she came upon them.

Her arms folded gently over the floor length but shapely dark blue dress she wore, embroidered with swirling patterns of silver upon the bottom and the ends of the sleeves that caressed her wrists. Her fingers lightly began to pick at the apple as if it was something bad, perhaps rotten before she took the time to offer a small courtesy toward her siblings in greeting. "Hello, siblings. I see the attendance is better this time around." It hadn't been so the last time but that was the past and she smiled toward her brother Lucerys, eyes flicking over him as she lightly gave him a small but warm smile.

REMUS

Like his brother, Remus did not have a fondness for social events. He'd spent the remaining years of his adolescence in House Targaryen, learning all the proper manners befitting of a knight. But for a boy always intent on horseback riding and sword fighting lessons, manners flew out the window and never came back.

It's why he leaves his brother to social interactions; Kloun was the more eloquent speaker among the two. He is here, for similar reasons as his brother. Rhaenys and Visenya are obligated to make an appearance and wherever they go, he follows. It's good there are two princesses, as there are two knights to protect each of them.

While his brother is content to sit on the sidelines, Remus is not. He roves around the gathering, his boots clinking nosily. There is no need to be silent in a boisterous gathering of nobles; the noise of the crowd washes out the sound of his boots. Even still, eyes still linger towards his presence as he is hard not to miss. The average man's head comes up to his chest combined with his broad, muscular frame makes him to be a rather intimidating figure. They always assume he's a silent brute, and Remus never attempts to convince them otherwise. He lives to serve the Targaryen sisters, not pander to meaningless strangers.

He sees his brother within a small gathering near the base of the stairs. Curiosity peaked, he ventures closer. It's made of his brother, Lady Alfeynnah, Lucerys and little Ren. Remus' lips twitch upwards at the sight of the young child. He always had a secret fondness for young children, naive and ignorant of the world's harsh ways.

"Hello, brother," He rumbles, as he settles into place at his brother's right hand side.

(c)trexgirl

Hell hath no fury

like a woman scorned

Khaalida Loralai Targaryen || female || 8 moons || Citizen of Westeros

Khaalida had seen glimpses of Ren before, though she'd never met the boy in person formally. She in a sense could also be considered a bastard child, along with her twin Mara, although they were justly loyal to their father. The fourteen year old wasn't often out of her chambers, or the training grounds for that matter, so she rarely wore flashy items of clothing. Instead she opted for a rich, dark purple gown of simple design. Her brown hair was partially braided into a crown with pale skin lightly powdered to actually let the maids allow her to be seen in public.

"Good morning, how is everyone today?" She seemed to be one of the younger ones here, the only one she was senior to being little Ren. It didn't make her feel as uneasy but she was without her twin, the two were never far from one another.

(c)Luminosity

His mouth remaining unchanged from the stern line it was, Lucerys' hard gaze flickered towards the others as they approached, looking over Remus without a second thought and lingering for a moment on Alfeynnah. He didn't openly return her smile, but nevertheless there was a certain meaningfulness in his familiar gaze. His lean arms folding across his armour cladded chest, the Lord of Dragonstone redirected his attention on the child, who was so proud to proclaim that he was a Targaryen - just like the many countless bastards their father had sired off nameless, common mothers.

"Yes, I suppose it can all feel overwhelming at first," the older man remarked, although he didn't feel much sympathy for Ren. There had been no one to shelter he or his brother from the prejudices of the Lannister king they had first landed in Westeros, and they had done well for themselves for the time. "Have you visited the Sept of Baelor?" Lucerys didn't look pious, and truly he wasn't particularly, but the young Lord was a follower of the Faith of the Seven and he made regular use of the sept, sometimes with religion in mind but mostly to visit the remains of his twin brother, still unavenged for his assassination.

His brow remaining low, he glanced towards the younger girl as she approached. She didn't look very Targaryen. "Good morning," he returned the greeting courteously. "I don't believe I know you."

kloun's smile of strained gentle nature softened even more so at the other's comment as amusement danced within his golden hues. a dragon couldn't be hurt hm? "An interesting statement," the once murder noted, tone one of a sing-song nature, "But if that were true, how is it that dragons nearly went extinct?" it was a light statement, one of simple banter with a child, but there was a darker truth to it's phrasing. nothing was invincible, for even dragons, with their heavily armored bodies, could be stabbed in their unprotected eyes. quite a strange notion, thinking over how he would kill a dragon if ever coming across such a beast he'd more than likely never once come across.

the next two beings to come fourth from the crowd of lords and ladies were those of the various princes and princesses in which inhabited the marvelous castle of the royals. and, as expected, both blue bloods did not even awknoledge the once-murders existence. kloun didn't mind it, however, finding it more so worthy of the roll of glistening hues than discouragement. it wasn't as if he wished to impress those standing before him, nor learn their names individually. he solely cared for one set of royals, the two saviors in which he owed his life. then there was remus, which drew an almost real smile of genuine nature to kloun's dark features. "Good evening," kloun responds, looking to the sole family he possessed with an actual, genuine tenderness. after his brother, another came froward he didn't care to note, and more banter ensued. kloun imagined it was rather overwhelming, the court and all which came with it. he was rather glad he'd not been born into such an empty life of luxury.

Hell hath no fury

like a woman scorned

Khaalida Loralai Targaryen || female || 8 moons || Citizen of Westeros

"My name is Khaalida your lordship, I live here with my sister Mara." She said, introducing herself to Lucerys. She knew she didn't look 'like a Targaryen' but she was never sure if the people who said it were talking about her physical features, posture or style of dress. If it was one of the latter perhaps she would be able to change it, to fit in more with her house. She gave Kloun a nod of acknowledgement, a smile pulling at her lips as he was the next who responded to her greeting.

Little Ren was the next and she kept her smile up as she spoke to him "I'm well thank you, perhaps when you go to visit the Sept I may join you? My sister and I have not explored much since being allowed out of the castle and I hear it's simply beautiful during the summer months." She followed the Faith of Seven due to her upbringing but didn't fully understand it just yet. It was a much more difficult subject than her other training so she hoped that perhaps seeing the Sept would provide her a chance to learn more effectively.

(c)Luminosity

SHE RAN DOWN THE FOREST SLOPE — mara — westeros — she/her — tags

Mara looked just as unlike as a Targaryen as one could. Her golden locks that had been done in a loose fishtail contrasted greatly with that of her relatives. Her light orange eyes looked nothing like her twin's, much less her half siblings.

She spotted Lida, and decided to head over. The dagger she had strapped to her thigh as a precaution was uncomfortably cold, but her face would not betray her. Her orange gown swished as she walked, and the young girl resigned not to let her maids talk her into wearing something so extravagant next time. Looking over the group, Mara saw many new faces, so she decided to introduce herself. "Mara Targaryen. It is a pleasure to meet you all," she greeted warmly.