have courage .

WHITE HOT ,  BLARING IN THE SKY ,  the sun rained golden rivers over everything and painted the world  yellow  .  there might have been something magnificent about it ,  but vic had seen the morning light hit the fresh snow ,  sending  diamonds  sparking into a dangerous dance .  there was something about diamonds that made gold seem so dull .  it seemed strange that the sun was still shining on a day such as this ,  where a  gloom  hung over the city like a thick fog .  the queen was dead ,  and while vic had never held any love for her ,  this was the last thing he expected ,  the last thing he  wanted .  it was supposed to be a quick trip south ,  then back up the kingsroad to a castle in the snow where nothing  ever  had to change .  but now  ?   everything  was about to change .

the sun ,  it seemed ,  would  always  shine in the south where there were no snowstorms to block it out and no long nights where one could forget it’s face .  the sun did not care that it was  raining  within the walls of the red keep ,  tears carving rivulets into the ancient stone .  vic did not shed any tears ,  he said the proper words and hung his head when he fancied ,  but he did not cry .  he did not know the queen ,  did not care for her ,  and besides death meant something different in the north .  he did  worry ,  though ,  not because he suspected  foul  play .  he held it as a possibility ,  strange that death would come when so many new faces surrounded her ,  but death  was  strange . 

he would take this all in stride ,  one step at a time ,  and the first step was always finding rowena ,  being  certain  she was safe .  he was not with her always ,  though he might have  liked  to be ,  for only then could he  always  be certain .  even away from her ,  his mind always strayed to her and here ,  behind the strong walls and the safe swords of the city watch that could hardly be purely on the concern of her  safety .  upon finding her room empty ,  he set out across the vast castle gardens to find her .  a shadow raced between the manicured foliage ,  wide eyes peeking out behind the green .  “ crow , ”  he greeted ,  immediately searching behind the dog for her owner ,  who it did not seem was following .  “ where’s rowena ? ”

and like that ,  she was off ,  to find her person ,  his person , and he followed closely behind .  and as always ,  she led him  right  where he wanted to go .  he waited for her to notice him ,  she always did somehow ,  though he said nothing ,  made no sound ,  but she turned to look at him .  the old gods were not here ,  vic felt no sense of  holiness  and the look in  rowena’s eyes told him she agreed .  “ a poor imitation , ”  he admits ,  face contorting in distaste for only a moment ,  until he thinks better of it and meets her gaze with a smile .  “  but we won’t be here much longer ,  i promise .  i won’t let them keep us any longer than necessary . ”  he is worried about her ,  of course he is worried about her .  but ,  for her to come here ,  well it could only mean one thing .  “  are you alright  ? ”

𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐋𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐒  &  𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒  ;  rowena allows herself a moment to breathe slowly  ,  deep as her father had once shown her when she’d been but a sick child  ,  fearful  &  feverish in her bed  .  she sags in the dirt at his feet like a doll forgotten  ,  letting the plucked flower fall from her grasp and drift in the humid breeze that continues to rustle the flora encircling them  .  in this sole moment  ,  she can simply be rowena  —  nothing more  ,  nothing less  .  she does not have to be a noble lady  ,  stiff  &  proper and full of all the right words  .  “  i am afraid  .  ”

the words are but a breath of a whisper as rowena's eyes close  ,  as though hiding herself from the realities of the world around her  ;  as if this is but a silly nightmare that she might yet wake from  .  victarion has  never  broken a promise to her  ,  not in all the years she has known him  ,  though she cannot help but worry that this time may be different  ,  against their choosing .  no longer is he simply promising to take her out riding at night so that they might look upon the stars unbidden  —  the queen is dead  ,  now  ,  and home seems farther away than ever before  .  there’s much more difficulty to face here than simply trying to persuade her father to let her go  .

and with her fear admitted  ,  made real in the space between them  ,  her lashes flutter  &  she finds herself standing before him  .  she wants to flee with him  .  she wants to take his hand and never let go  .  “  and though i am afraid  ,  there is much to be done  .  we need to prepare to leave as soon as is appropriate  .  ”  there is an edge to her voice  ,  like her father’s  ,  or her eldest brother’s  .  she is not quite the lord of winterfell  ,  not by miles  ,  but she could certainly try her hand at bravery  .  “  it can’t be coincidental  ,  vic  —  can it  ?  ”  worrying her lower lip with her teeth  ,  she takes his hand  ,  watching as she threads their fingers together  .  it is simply her nature  ,  at this point  ;  her gaze quickly shoots back up to take in the sharp line of his cheekbone  ,  the way his own eyes train on her  .  “  the whispers have already started  ,  though of course they have  . . .  still  ,  i am wary  .  it is not safe here  ,  even less so than it was upon our arrival  .  ”

it is the truth  ,  but she still trembles somewhat  ,  all of the terrible possibilities flooding her imagination at once  .  “  doubtless  ,  lords and ladies alike are already vying for the throne  .  i’m sure the common folk are rallying for their chance at the crown as well  —  it will be a fight  ,  without question  .  a war  ,  potentially  .  ”  the realm has known peace for far too long  ,  and people hunger  ,  as they always do  .  it turns her stomach  .  “  but maybe  . . .  maybe the north  . .  ”  rowena does not want the iron throne  ,  nor does she wish to see her brothers upon it  .  but if the north were to secede  ,  as they’d tried to decades ago  . . .  well  ,  it was certainly a thought  .

“I should write a song for the fallen queen.” she plucked at the strings of the lute sitting in her lap. She was a guest of Kings Landing and a bard, it was expected for her to sing of her greatness. Even if all Jaela had grown up hearing was of her selfishness. “Did anyone know her well?”

𝐒𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐖 𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐃  ,  𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑  &  𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃  ;  along the edge of the crowd  ,  rowena stood  ,  gaze steady on the bard as she spoke  .  she hadn’t known  daenerys  —  she had only known the woman from her father’s stories  ,  and even those had been a rare occasion  .  the dragon queen had been a strange figure in the stark household  .  a group of noble ladies just ahead of her had begun to murmur to one another  ,  and rowena could catch scant whispers of  murder  and  poison  and  war  ,  words that twisted her stomach into intricate knots  .  she wouldn’t doubt it  .  this could not have been coincidental  .

it’s not prayer  ,  for the fallen queen or otherwise  ,  that she partakes in  ,  though one would assume such from appearance alone  .  the facelessness of the supposed heart tree has left her awash in fear even stronger than previously thought  .  there is something stilted and dangerous about the clear irreverence displayed here  ,  in a place where they are claimed to be welcome  .   her stomach twists anxiously  ;  all she can see is the statue of lord eddard stark  ,  still  &  solemn in their crypt  .  he had been here once  .  he had died here  .  the beat of her heart hitches in fright for her family  .

it would be better to call it conversation that she engages in  ,  lilting  ,  stilling only to revive again  .  as her thoughts drift in between reality  &  obscurity  ,  wind rustles through the leaves overhead  ;  in it  ,  she hears her father’s tired  ,  gently chiding sigh  ,  and so she hums apologetically in response  ,  quiet and tentative  .  she can feel the old gods here  ,  even with the false heart tree  &  the blood of broken smokeberries staining the front of her silken dress  ,  fingers twisting in the grass &  stems of the lily  -  like flowers surrounding her  .  not a godswood  ,  but a garden  .  not a girl  ,  but a lone phantom  .

until another comes to haunt alongside her  .  she does not need to see him  ,  hear him  —  she needs only look to her heart and know  .  gaze does not flutter  ,  no move is made to turn towards him  .  it is unnecessary  .  they need no indication  . “  hello  ,  victarion  .  ” in her voice  ,  a smile trills  ,  a bluebird’s song on spring’s first morning  .  it is  ,  with little doubt  ,  the first and only she has worn today  .  the wind stirs again as if murmuring acknowledgement  ,  and her chin tucks atop bare shoulder to greet him with a fond gaze  .  he is a jagged shadow in the glow of the sunset  ,  hovering between towering elms  .  were she able  ,  she thinks she’d like to paint him here in shades of vermillon &  sable  ,  a wraith amongst men  .  “  if i try hard enough  ,  the petals of the dragon’s breath  —  ”  she offers up an aforementioned flower to receive his judgement  ,  stem weaved between her trembling fingers  . “  —  could be weirwood leaves  ,  don’t you think  ?  ”  it is the gentlest form of complaint one could hear  —  spoken as such that one might never realize it was a complaint at all  ,  if they did not know her  .

              𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃  𝐎𝐅  𝐇𝐄𝐑  𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄  fills  him  with  unwanted  memories  that  nearly  cause  him  to  flee  .  he  likes  to  think  he  knows  the  stark  children  better  than  any  other  northerners  from  home  .  it’s  in  part  to  anders  and  belos’  past  desire  to  keep  himself  hidden  in  winterfell  ,  somewhere  that  made  him  feel  …  well  ,  more  at  home  than  his  own  .  even  the  thought  that  he  once  felt  safe  there  makes  him  wonder  how  he  could  ever  return  .  he  knows  he  can’t  ,  not  after  word  got  out  about  the  glenmore  lord  who  fled  to  avoid  the  wall  ,  but  it  doesn’t  stop  him  from  pondering  what  could  have  been  . 

                  ❝    aye  ,  for  you  .    ❞    he  responds  with  a  tilt  of  his  head  .  he’s  grinning  ,  digging  back  to  a  time  where  he  could  remember  the  youngest  stark’s  name  .  if  his  mother  knew  of  his  lack  of  knowledge  he  would  surely  be  punished  .  the  tug  at  familiarity  is  already  one  he  wasn’t  aware  himself  capable  of  .  he’s  only  thankful  that  the  sentiment  is  not  mutual  .    ❝    beautiful  like  yourself  ,  m’lady  .    ❞    with  anyone  else  ,  his  words  would  be  suggestive  .  with  the  lady  stark  ,  they’re  merely  out  of  the  smallest  amount  of  kindness  he  has  in  his  heart  .

𝐀𝐒 𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐊𝐒  ,  𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐀 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊  ;  it is his  grin  that does it  .  surprise spreads across her features in a flourish  ,  eyes wide  ,  lips parting as a name stutters in her throat  .  it feels as though it’s been forever and a day since lord belos glenmore had graced the halls of winterfell with his raucous presence  .  he’d always brought mischief  ,  but it had been exciting  ,  and there’d always been room for him at their table  .  well  —  until he’d been cast out by his family as a deserter  ,  or so she’d heard among the whispered gossip of their maids  .  she hadn’t believed it then  ,  still such a child  ,  still clinging to memories of running after belos  &  anders in the courtyard  ,  laughter misting in the cold  .  rowena is just  ,  she knows the laws  ,  she understands with no small shred of uncertainty what  should  happen  . . .  but hadn’t her father once been viewed as a deserter by some  ?  for a moment she is silent  ,  gaze dropping once more to the bright bud he still holds  .

nimble fingers close carefully about the rose’s stem  ,  mindful of the thorns  .  eyes are everywhere  .  eyes  ,  and voices  ,  and nosy people to go with them  ;  she does not want word to find its way to the wrong soul  .  “  oh  ,  how you flatter me  !  ”  her laugh is sweeter than the confections being passed around by servants  ,  and she takes the smallest step closer  ,  voice dropping to a mere whisper  :  “  do my  brothers  know  ?  ”

             delicate fingertips thread through golden locks, parting waves with ease. there’s a vibration easing out of lithe frame forming a hushed tone. melodic like singing as her hands continue to thread through the golden locks in front of her, forming two braids. they meet in the middle and the ruling lady is quick to finish, adding a signature pin with the ever so present form of a tiny wolf. and she’s moving to help the little girl slip off the chair. ❝ mind your step, sweet girl. ❞ dark gaze is set on her daughter as she carefully moves over the mess of shoes on the ground. bright gaze lifts, a mirror of her father’s, easily finding the darker hues of her mother. and lianne couldn’t help the delicate smile that found her lips at the mere sight of her daughter. ❝ all good, mommy !! ❞ she’s nodding in response, bending to gather the small shoes before placing them in ada’s wardrobe, an attempt to help her handmaidens and ada’s nursemaid. 

patting small palms against the sides of her dress, the small framed lady moves to exit the room, extending her hand out to the little girl. tiny fingers wrap around her own, not quite big enough to grab her hand. and they’re walking down the halls of the winterfell castle. dark optics flicker around the snow covered outdoors, motherly eyes finding her first born almost immediately. and he’s beaming at her, finding his way out from the huddle of nothern boys playing. there’s a tug on her hand, calling for her attention. ❝ go on, then, ada - not too far from rose. ❞ one of the many nursemaids keeping watchful eyes on the young noble children. ❝ jon !! mind your sister. ❞ lianne instructs, watching as the little girl rushes off towards the younger girls. and she shakes her head, smile in tact even as she turns. gaze lingers, as a mother’s would, before she turns on her heels. and a breathless gasp leaves her lips, a small hand flying towards her chest because the old gods knew she was not expecting anyone to be there when she turned. ❝ gods, you move quietly !! ❞ 

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐕𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒  ,  𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖 𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐋  ,  𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐀𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐓𝐖𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒  ;  it is in one such secluded area that rowena alights upon her sister in law  &  her niece  ,  relief shining warm in her expression as she offers silent thanks to the old gods  .  history has never shone kindly upon the wolves that find themselves southward bound  ,  and she frets uncontrollably  .  her nephew  ,  keen of gaze as ever  —  the boy lives up to his namesake  ,  even at nine  —  is the first to spot her  ,  but she simply motions with a finger to her curved lips as though they share a grand secret  ,  reluctant to disturb such a tender moment between mother  &  daughter  .  her heart is especially soft when she takes notice of the direwolf pin in little ada’s hair  ,  reaching back to touch her own  ,  safely secured in chestnut waves  .

the fevers rowena experienced from infancy into mid childhood  (  age 8  ,  whatever that counts as  )  still linger  .  she is not  ,  and will likely never be  ,  entirely free of them  ;  not only have they wreaked their own fair share of havoc on her body  &  immune system  ,  leaving them mildly compromised  &  weaker than what is considered average for a woman her age  ,  but occasionally she will still be overcome by them  .  it is rarer now than it was when she was younger  ,  mind  ,  but it is still a concern  .  this is not to say she is sick all the time  ,  but rather that she’s more susceptible  ;  there’s a higher chance that she’ll catch a cough or a chill compared to  ,  for instance  ,   her brother robb  .

She had been brought up to be proud of her home, to admire all that The Vale had to offer and now as its Ruling Lady she felt bound to represent it well. But she had never once thought that pride should cloud the truth and for all the great many things that The Eyrie had to offer, a garden such as this was not one of them. She had been stood quietly admiring it all when she heard some footsteps approaching. “The gardens are rather lovely, do you not think?” Perhaps not the most interesting topic that she could have chosen but she was hoping that the soft smile on her features and the hint of warmth in her tone might encourage some sort of engagement. “May I ask how you are finding your time here?” For all it was small talk she had never been able to be anything but genuine - always far too worried about how visible her heart was when she wore it on her sleeve - and so she truly was invested as to whether or not her new companion had been enjoying their time.

𝐀 𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅  &  𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍  ;  traipsing off into a lesser populated wing of the gardens with crow in tow  ,  she’d come upon the other woman by accident  .  for a moment she had stalled  ,  breath held  &  body stiff  ,  uncertain on whether or not she was intruding on the other’s quiet moment  —  all too aware of how she herself had needed multiple over the course of the day  ,  she hadn’t wanted to interrupt  .  her worry was wiped away near instantly  ,  however  ,  when lady arryn turned to greet her with a soft question  .

the south was a  mystery  to victarion ,  who had spent his whole life as far north as most anyone dared to go these days .  who had been raised on stories of even further north ,  beyond the wall that no longer stood ,  past the haunted forest and into the woods with no name .  it was  hotter  here ,  not just for the climate ,  but for the activity .  the city bustled at every turn and vic had thought winterfell full to bursting most days . it must have been only for the landsmeet ,  but there seemed to be more people in king’s landing than the  entirety  of the northern kingdom .

it seemed half the day before he found a moment to slip away ,  not  alone ,  but where the noise was just quiet enough for him to hear himself think ,  and something else ,  distant ,  which sounded distantly like the yowling of a cat .  “ gods , ”  he breathed ,  only just hoping no one would hear him .  “ is  this  what southerners call music ? ”

𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐖𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐄𝐗𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐒  ,  𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐔𝐏𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐒  ,  𝐀 𝐋𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐇𝐈𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐍 𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐄  -  𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇  ;  rowena had found herself tired of the festivities nearly an hour after their beginning  ,  though the day had been insistent on crawling along  .  the majority of her time had been spent entertaining the southron ladies  &  their condescending jests  ,  finding the usual bubbling wellspring of patience she possessed to have gone dry quite rapidly  .  if it was not the ladies  ,  then it was certainly the lords  ,  with their hungry jackal gazes that lingered far longer than was appropriate  .  her bones had ached with painful homesickness the longer she’d reposed with the nobility  ,  craving the snow and the wolves  ,  the safety of winterfell’s walls  .

there was a slim window of escape that presented itself when she’d caught sight of victarion slinking through the crowd  ,  and she’d leapt upon it instantly  :  mentioning to her company that she’d begun feeling ill thanks to the unfamiliar combination of heat  &  wine  ,  she’d stolen away after him  .  it had been so simple  —  a rare occasion in which she’d felt no guilt for her dishonesty  .  “  ah  ,  is  that  what that noise is  ?  i’d assumed crow had finally caught up with those cats in the keep  . .  ”  certain he’d already known of her presence without the announcement  ,  rowena closed what little distance was left as one hand came to rest upon delicately upon his arm  ,  leaning in conspiratorially close to whisper  :  “  do you think we’d be noticed if we snuck off to the stables and rode for the north  ?  i don’t think i can take hearing lady sarsfield boast about her marriage any longer  ,  nor can i stand to feel the weight of  lord  sarsfield’s gaze  .  ”  normally so quiet about her discomfort  ,  summerwine and the presence of her sworn sword had left rowena with little thought to spare for the consequences  .

              𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄  𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐓  𝐁𝐄  𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆  he  can  entertain  himself  with  as  the  festivities  roar  on  .  aside  from  stealing  ale  and  tarts  from  nearby  servants  ,  he  has  no  desire  in  anything  else  the  landsmeet  has  to  offer  .  belos  is  not  interested  in  whatever  the  queen  decides  to  spew  ,  knowing  it  would  most  likely  be  as  far  from  the  truth  as  possible  .  now  …  the  people  ?  he’s  interested  in  their  gold  ,  whether  he’s  able  to  slip  a  coin  purse  into  his  own  pocket  or  speak  about  his  smithing  work  .  perhaps  even  more  ,  along  the  lines  of  pleasure  ,  if  he’s  able  to  achieve  that  .  he  leans  over  toward  one  of  the  rose  bushes  ,  plucking  a  stem  from  the  plant  itself  .  the  sound  of  footsteps  has  him  red  in  the  face  ,  turning  on  his  heel  to  face  whoever  had  caught  him  .  instead  of  panicking  ,  he  lets  out  a  deep  breath  and  smirks  .    ❝    ah  ,  how  did  you  know  i  had  picked  this  just  for  you  ??    ❞    belos  questions  ,  extending  his  hand  with  the  flower  .

𝐄𝐗𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘  ,  𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍  ;  a moment to clear her head is needed before she eases back into the fray of dancing  &  drinking  &  socializing  .  the blinding heat of the sun beating down on her back is only worsened by the crowds she must wade through  ,  nobles chatting and dancing  ,  servants rushing  , energy thrumming in the air  .  the gardens of the red keep  ,  though vast and beautiful  ,  are certainly over capacity  .

fingertips trail along the brush  ,  tracing along the curves of soft petals as she roams  ,  running with her thoughts  .  she doesn’t think she can settle for another hour long conversation about morning sickness with the proud lady serrett  ;  it seems that she won’t need to  ,  luckily  ,  as she’s stopped in her tracks by a gallant stranger  .  “  just for me  ?  ”  the sway of her tone denotes amusement  ,  laced with more than a simple pinch of interest  .  this stranger may not be quite so strange at all  —  something familiar about his features piques her notice  ,  carefully nudging around her memories as her gaze drifts between the rose in his hand  &  his face  .

a shadow hangs over her  ,  as if a ghost  .  and  ,  she supposes  ,  it is   —  grief is ever present  ,  skulking in the shadows  ,  every little dark corner of the maze that makes up who she is  .  who she thinks she is  —  she doesn’t quite know anymore  ;  is she a puzzle with a missing piece  ,  or maybe a shattered mirror  ?  a vase left empty  ?  fingers tighten  ,  nails leave perfect little crescents on the backs of her palms  .  when the door opens  ,  her throat tightens  ,  and the words feel like sandpaper as she speaks them  .  “  anders   —  do you think i could bother you  ,  for just a moment  ?  ”

 𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐀 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐊          𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒  .

this was supposed to look so much better but photoshop is a terrible  ,  terrible application  .