Chapter Text
Throughout history the epithet 'The Anchor' has been bestowed upon only two noble women: born a century apart. A princess and a queen, both of Valyrian blood. Princess Kaestyra [kuh-steer-uh] Targaryen, 'The Southern Cross', born in 174 AC under a clear sky. The eldest daughter of Jacaemon Velaryon and Alla Tyrell, a girl more Tyrell than Velaryon: inheriting her mother's dark hair and shorter stature. She was said to be a meek child of no great importance, growing into a lady of few words and an equally non-offensive beauty. At the mature age of eight-and-ten, the girl had been raised and groomed to be the perfect wife and mother, fated to marry a third son of a Dornish house and bear his equally insignificant children. A week before her wedding, under circumstances known only to the pair themselves, the girl charmed beyond her station, capturing the heart of young Baleor Targaryen; a match described as an alliance true in both affection and promise. Kaestyra Targaryen is a name only uttered by fair rulers and nostalgic lords. A lineage written only once or twice in fading ink, the spelling adopting an additional 'I' and the pronunciation an extra syllable in recent history, yet still the name itself is a quiet undercurrent of power and a destiny far too great and pure for the people of Westeros.