she gave the smallest of nod then. "alright." the word came quietly, without protest. this time, when she let her eyes drift shut, there were no frantic attempts to keep herself awake, no fear of what waited behind closed lids. only the lingering warmth of a hand against her back, the steady rhythm of another's presence beside her, and the heaviness of a body finally surrendering to the haze of sleep once again.

and she would become forgotten, another name written on the scrolls as a cautionary tale. at least no one has to be subjected to the terrible play about her, and may it not follow them into dorne. the observation from seora surprises them. they blink and there is a flush to follow. "no? we must be used to each other." they unclasp their hands, as though freeing themself from the mental and verbal chains which they clap upon their own wrists. "i feel as if i haven't spoken what i think nor believe in a very long time. maybe you've been one of the few to still hear it." or listen. the vitriol of their words does not fall as heavy as it once did. a huff. one of their secrets could have been this, and they give it to her freely.

"in this moment we can rejoice that we don't feel disappointed for once. unless you're disappointed with the decision to travel to dornish lands." the vulgarity springs easier to their tongue. "part of me wonders if we'll even make it there. or some other god-given blight will strike us."

taliesin pushes the cards into their pocket. the manner in which the keep's halls have been built mean they form roundabout, and although at first they run parallel ultimately they find themself face-to-face with her again. they glance behind themself, a jut of their chin and brow in answer to the question, and cross their arms. the waters is simply thinking ahead. refilling their own coffers separated from the westerling house so that they are not indebted to anything there. they refuse to be. they cannot be.

"and if you have? is that how you won that last round of cards?" they laugh. yes, it is better to have this. much better to have this. "if it is, lend me your second-head-sprouting spell. i need a new get-rich-quick scheme."

"you've already done more than you realize." her hand lifted carefully from beneath the blankets, movements still slow with lingering soreness, until her fingers found falyn's. she gave them the gentlest squeeze she could manage. "though, if you truly wish to help, can you please tell me something ordinary? anything at all. a bit of gossip, perhaps? or tell me more about highgarden." her eyes brightened with quiet amusement. she settled a little deeper into the pillows, the exhaustion still present but somehow lighter than it had been that morning. "i think i'd quite like to be reminded that life has continued while I was asleep."

even   upon   her   waking   on   the   fifth   day   ,       she   hadn't   been   able   to   gather   the   courage   to   leave   her   bed.   drowning   in   her   own   feelings   of   guilt   ,       and   her   thoughts   stolen   by   the   memories   of   what   had   happened   within   the   depths   of   the   dragonpit.   while   she   knew   she   owed   it   to   myrcella   to   see   herself   at   her   bedside   ,       her   own   wounds   be   damned   ,       she   had   feared   what   would   await   her   when   their   eyes   finally   met.   would   it   be   anger   that   awaited   her   ,       at   her   sister's   side   ?   or   even   worse   ,       the   blame   that   was   rightfully   hers   to   forever   live   with.   it   was   only   as   the   thoughts   worsened   in   the   silence   of   her   own   chambers   ,       that   syrenna   finally   rose   on   the   seventh   day.   wrapping   herself   with   a   light   enough   robe   that   would   not   weigh   upon   her   wounds   ,       she   dragged   herself   to   the   rooms   so   close   to   her   own   ,       before   stopping   at   the   foot   of   her   sister's   bed.   mouth   opening   and   closing   ,       as   she   sought   for   the   right   words.   it   was   only   upon   the   realization   that   they   did   not   exist   ,       that   syrenna   settled   for   for   a   quiet   plea.     ❝     cella   ⸻   i'm   so   sorry   ,       cella.     ❞

with   each   passing   evening,   steffon   toyed   with   whether   to   escape   into   the   heart   of   king’s   landing   or   to   remain   in   the   safety   of   the   keep.   before   they   had   been   a   wild   thing,   an   untethered   thing   —   now,   as   they   looked   out   across   the   city,   all   the   young   liege   could   see   were   the   burned   shadows   remaining   of   dragonfire.   they   had   never   known   such   fear,   marooned   away   from   their   sisters   and   fretting   that   they   would   not   return.   for   that   moment   the   unfamiliar   corridors   were   safe,   and   yet   steffon   still   felt   the   need   to   isolate   himself.   it   was   why   he   was   sat   at   the   end   of   a   dark   hall,   flute   in   hand,   listening   to   dulcet   tones   echo   and   dance   across   high   ceilings.

" myrcella, " the way that her name rips past the lump in his throat is near excruciating. jacks has not the same bond with her as he does her sister, and yet still he feels betrayal wash over him anew at the sight of her face. she does not deserve the same ire that jacks had stored for her sister within his chest, barely contained by his shuddering ribs. he doles it out anyhow, and worse. " have you come to finish me off, then? " he questions, watching her from the cushion of the pillows propped behind his head. " what's the grand plan? to smother me with a fucking pillow so that i can't tell your plague of a step mother what it is that you've done? " as he speaks, his remaining hand fists at his bedsheets only to let them go, repeating the gesture as a form of amusement — there was little of it to be found, languishing like a prisoner in the sickbay. his eyes are hard, impenetrable. " do it, then. and afterwards, run along hand in hand with your sister just as you did in the fucking dragonpit. "

"i simply thought you'd have grown out of it." the words seemed almost reluctant to leave her. her gaze followed the goblet as it passed back into maekara's hand. she watched the princess take another sip before looking away again, attention settling somewhere beyond the courtyard walls where the sea ought to have been.

seora thought it all rather ridiculous. somehow they had stumbled into the sort of conversation neither of them had ever allowed themselves to have when it might actually have mattered. "if the princess asked for me, i suppose i can spare an afternoon," she said, cool enough that it might have passed for indifference, spoken as if attending the wedding of a woman she had once shared borrowed summers with required no more consideration than deciding whether the weather suited sailing.

lucerys does not expect her to turn his way, gut twisting in sharp displeasure at the fact that it had. he'd heard one that the last person who unearthed her ire had practically dropped dead out of nowhere, sea water in their lungs when they were far from the sea. it's enough to give lucerys pause, to regard her perhaps more carefully than he would standardly. " doubt it would escape your notice if you had, my lady. " he can' help but quip, regret spiking through him a moment later at the thought of possible mystic repercussion. " you don't exactly strike me as a fool. "

"and the princess delfina and lady mallister have been found alive. though, the drowned god made quick work of the previous lord hand." an interesting fate to say the least but lord alester had made a spectacle of a greyjoy's death, salt or rock wife it did not matter, an iron islander's death celebrated with a tourney was displeasing to the drowned god and the body as a floatation device seemed a fitting end. "princess obara has offered to help with the dragons if they deem the realm's nobility worthy." yerin scoffed, doing her best to not project her displeasure when there were still wandering eyes about.

“  you  cannot.  not  in  your  condition.  ”   elliana  had  kept  a  far  distance  from  the  sickbay  in  the  days  since  the  attack.  the  knowledge  that  their  siblings  had  been  safe  and  escaped  relatively  unscathed  had  been  all  that  they  needed.  the  names  of  the  fallen  and  hurt  had  passed  through  their  mind  yet  pushed  to  the  back  —  something  to  focus  upon  once  they  were  not  in  the  thick  of  the  search.  mechanic  in  a  new  sort  of  routine  to  sleep  for  a  few  hours,  find  something  to  eat,  go  out  with  the  city  watch  or  others  to  search  the  bay,  return  to  the  keep  for  it  to  repeat  over  again.  what  conversations  and  knowledge  that  was  not  about  the  smallfolk,  the  search,  or  the  times  that  she  saw  the  great  beasts  in  the  distance  had  been  slim,  and  elliana  could  not  say  what  prompted  her  to  stop.

coincidence,  maybe.  to  have  seen  a  familiar  face  resting  propped  up  and  such  familiarity  pausing  their  feet,  but  it  had  made  little  sense  to  them  to  begin  with.  did  they  purport  to  know  myrcella  baratheon  well  ?  in  a  biblical  sense,  perhaps.  their  conversations  not  often  ones  of  the  heart,  nor  much  anything  less  —  a  distraction  from  the  loss  of  their  father,  fun  when  they  had  met  each  other  first  before  the  kingsmoot  brought  them  all  together.  “  i  was  curious,  ”  lana  began,  their  body  leant  against  the  wall  in  the  case  that  myrcella  did  not  want  their  presence. 

"you needn't spare me the question," she said after a moment, her voice soft enough that it scarcely disturbed the silence between them. "i suspect everyone asks because they hope the answer will be reassuring." her gaze fell briefly to the linen wrapped carefully around her shoulder before lifting once more. "the truth is... i do feel better. better than i did three days ago. better than yesterday." she drew a slow, measured breath. "the maesters seem terribly pleased with that fact."

was   it   cruel   of   her   to   find   comfort   in   having   myrcella   at   her   side   ,       when   the   cost   of   such   a   boon   was   her   sister   being   forced   to   live   through   such   a   fate   alongside   her   ?   the   matching   bloom   of   burns   across   their   skin.   the   weight   of   their   actions   ⸻   syrenna's   choices   ,       now   a   noose   of   guilt   that   would   only   ever   continue   to   tighten   upon   their   necks.   if   only   the   gods   would   grant   her   the   chance   to   relive   that   day   ,       how   syrenna   would   pray   that   myrcella   never   wandered   with   her   at   all.   over   absolving   herself   of   her   own   faults   ,       to   spare   her   sister   of   it   entirely.   

in   the   days   to   follow   ,       she   had   pulled   further   and   further   away   from   the   world   around   them   ,       and   yet.   how   she   turned   to   myrcella   for   her   only   source   of   companionship.   the   occasional   drifting   from   one   room   to   the   other   ,       one   bed   to   the   other.   she   could   only   stand   to   find   herself   consoled   for   long   ,       before   the   sense   of   being   so   undeserving   of   it   chased   her   back   to   isolation.   but   while   one   triplet   was   sought   for   company   ,       the   other   was   held   at   arm's   length.   another   added   layer   of   guilt   ,       and   yet   one   impossible   to   mend   without   implicating   themselves   or   others.   for   all   that   she   wanted   to   bring   jocelyn   close   ,       how   she   abhorred   the   idea   of   dragging   them   down.     ❝     ... its   nothing   ,       joss.     ❞       patting   at   the   empty   space   upon   the   bed   ,       she   wordlessly   invited   the   last   of   their   trio   to   join   them.   one   followed   up   upon   with   words   ,       lest   hesitation   stall   the   youngest's   movements.     ❝     come   join   us   ⸻   please.   you   cannot   tease   us   with   your   words   and   not   follow   through.   you   are   our   only   eyes   and   ears   to   what   has   happened   outside.     ❞ it was an obvious attempt to redirect their conversation to whatever had initially excited jocelyn so , and one she could only pray worked now.

"no," she said, the word slipping free before syrenna had the chance to shoulder the reassurance alone. "you didn't interrupt. besides, i think i'd quite like to hear about something other than dragons for a little while." a small smile followed, weary but genuine enough to reach her eyes. syrenna's invitation carried the familiar ease of countless childhood afternoons spent crowded together beneath blankets or squeezed onto window seats too small for three.

only once jocelyn had her full attention did she truly take them in. they looked exhausted in the way everyone seemed to these days, carrying too many hours without proper rest and too many worries that no healer could tend to. the realization tightened something quietly inside her chest. while she and syrenna had hidden themselves away in shared grief, jocelyn had remained outside these walls, helping where they could, witnessing everything neither of them had been strong enough to see. somehow that felt just as lonely.

it pains her to build this on the backs of the missing princess and tully. amerei was a sweet lady whom sera had fond memories, a kind heart, if not someone overly preoccupied the concepts of pretty and proper. that's how she finds herself by one of the baratheon sick beds, donning that perfectly sympathetic septa smile. "oh, pardon, my lady. i hadn't meant to disturb unless you could use some companionship."

at least not to strangers. the people who knew her best had learned how to sit beside silence without demanding she fill it. everyone else received the careful politeness she could still manage, though it felt thinner than usual around the edges. she shifted slightly against the pillows, wincing almost imperceptibly as the movement tugged at healing skin.

"by not laughing at me." the princess hobbles in. she moves sluggish, the poppy milk flooding her senses and numbing out the remainders of pain still in her body. part of her still feels afloat, set adrift to the water, the algae clinging to the claw marks upon her chest and coating them slick. there was no one out there. she wasn't convinced any person in here was real anymore, surely they all perished. surely they all saw their ghost and haunting they could not escape — but myrcella baratheon remains real enough, a meeting of a girl in dreams. a presence felt through a distant veil in scales. "forgive me for my current state, myrcella, i've forgotten how to walk."

she will not be able to remain upright for long. her fingertips, gnarled and worn, with a biting along the cuticles that reddens them, rub at the knob of the cane. she stares not at myrcella herself, but the shadow cast by her abed. "you can also help me by telling me who decided to try and burn my keep all the way to the ground." dragons certainly ... they could have chosen, i saw them. they had enough, they simply had enough. shrykos, why didn't you take me with you? you have forever marked me — "a wretched failure stinking of stupidity." but the smile is still warm when delfina finally looks at her.

"not that you would know, my dear. you were caught unaware." my keep. my kingdom. she never would have uttered such things in a place where spectres take on the name of hightower and the royal hand is a bloated corpse who probably eavesdrops in kind — but what has she to lose now? "i should have thought of it myself. at least then the answer would be obvious." she is suddenly young again. young and brash and clutching at aegor's arms as he tries to throw her down. refusing to let him.

"your grace, you shouldn't be standing." her voice remained small, though there was an urgency to it now. "please, sit." whether upon the chair beside the bed or the mattress itself, myrcella cared very little. there was something strangely unsettling in seeing the princess so diminished. not because she appeared weak, but because she had always carried herself with such effortless certainty that the sight of her leaning upon a cane felt almost wrong.

"you needn't apologize," myrcella said, a faint smile flickering across her features. "i don't think anyone within the keep has remembered how to walk properly these past few days." the attempt at humor had scarcely left her lips when delfina spoke again. and for a single, dreadful heartbeat, myrcella forgot how to breathe. did she know? had someone seen them enter? had some servant pieced together the truth from frightened whispers and ash-stained clothes?

myrcella lowered her gaze before her expression could betray too much. guilt had become a familiar companion these past seven days, but in that moment it settled heavier than ever, pressing against her ribs until it almost hurt to draw breath. "i wish i knew," she answered at last, her voice quieter than before. it was not entirely a lie.