Rhaenyra

When she had come here, it had been to the Dusk Court she had given her name – all for the one she had seen long ago, best them all in her path. The daughter of the Sovereigns of the Winter Court.

Rannveig.

The world had whispered and she answered, and took the path from the sea to the very court. Along the path she walks, until she came to the land of the Dusk. She knew it was, and before them all she had proclaimed herself a warrior for them, a fighter, one to protect the Court. Fighting had always been a part of her life, from when she was a youngster to her being forced from home to wander. It had been a necessity for her survival, true enough, but one she had come to appreciate.

Coming here only seemed logical to her. She may not look like quite the fighter, but beneath her shimmering exterior her skin was laced with scarring, the most recent across her shoulder and she could even be seen favouring a limb ever so slightly.

She had not let the old injury stop her at any point in time, nor would she now. It was well and truly healed, by those who had been wondrous at it, and she had found this place in the wanderlust in her veins.

She comes to the Dusk Court and stops here. Her blue eyes look out and around, taking in all the new sights, inhaling and picking up new scents and hearing sounds familiar but different… and all the while, she knew this was the very region she’d come to give herself to and become a part of… even if for only a segment of her lifetime.

After all, what is life without meeting others along the way.

There was a language spoken that she didn't know; between the ocean tides and pulls of the currents and sea foam she had always heard their song--but never sang their words. Their lyrics were incomprehensible to anyone like her, on land, without the sway over waters. She was a creature of winter, born and built with the snow that packed themselves into her bones and a skin of frost, the breath of a white wolf in a blizzard. The clashing, cresting waves against the stout cliff walls begged to hold her beneath their surface, called her name in their mutable tones and prayed for her as she did for Vespera. But though the ocean was turbulent and frightening and all at once beautiful, she turned her back to its thrashing sounds and moved off toward the heart of Court; she would save the cliffs for a different time.

The summer season had her wishing for the nighttime of the day, the cool touch of the moon's blue glow. She missed Hiemsterra, the wills of the Winter Court's faith in Glacies sentencing the lands to be made a forever-winter. The crunch of snow underfoot then was replaced with the waving grasses now, body of hers so out of place amid the greens and the warm colors of the sun. But out of place amid the Dusk, that was yet to be proven; and she wondered, hesitantly, if she should have been the one to try to rouse the court into action.

The tower stood as it always had against the meeting sky and earth as she approached from the direction of the cliffs. The ancient walls welcomed her back with their silence, and the music of waves against stone finally bade her goodbye. She rounded one smooth corner, body moving in a steady stride until her gaze saw the mare; everything stood still, her, the breeze, and she dared not even blink. "Rhae..." She wasn't even sure if she made any noise at all, but the name hung on her lips.

Top of the world, we'll be sitting at the highest
It all starts here, with a rush of blood to the head

Rhaenyra

Never once had she remained in the one place for long since she had been forced out of her home. There was nothing binding her to any place, save for when she had owed a debt to the royal family and those who had healed her in the Winter Court. She didn’t know many names from her time there – she knew most of the guard, the royal procession but she’d never learned names of places, nor of any others as much. Yet when the one who she recognised was coming towards her although something out of a dream to her eyes, Rhaenyra’s eyes widened – she had indeed come to the right place.

Her head falls as she bows in the presence of she the sovereign of the Dusk Court.

“Your Grace…” she speaks, while her heart fluttered in her chest that, thrilled that she had remembered who she was. When she looks up, her eyes are kind, though she is reserved in her manner that she stands. “I had heard you were here… and it seems fate led me here as well. I have come to give my allegiance and ability as a warrior to you and the Court, any who would hav need of me…” she speaks.

Then there is a light smile on her lips, and her eyes soften.

“But it is good to see you… you look well…” she trails off, unsure of where to step next – but then, social niceties were one she had always been somewhat awkward in.