#burningcoalsstart

The pretty brunette let out a sigh as she stared out onto the Blackwater Rush during a walk through the Red Keep’s Godswood. It seemed like the entire city was on edge and this was one of the few places where serenity could be found. The sound of approaching footsteps did not cause the lady to stir, for she assumed it was one of her guards. “I’ll be ready to leave soon, Bryce. Give me a few more moments.”

   Rhaenys wasn’t ready. She lifted her hand, wiping at her eyes as they dared to defy her orders to remain dry. She stood as hidden away as possible, not yet ready to enter the doors of the Sept. She willed herself to breathe. She had to do everything perfectly right. Daemion needed her to. The Lady Gaunt be damned, the only other family she had would sit the throne sooner rather than later and she would not do anything to hinder his authority or the strength of her house. 

   The princess closed her eyes, exhaling once more. When she opened her eyes, she startled the tiniest bit, met with another’s. “You may enter, you needn’t wait for me.” She murmured. In just a few days, the little dragon had grown ten years. 

   Rhaenys crouched down to gently scoop Meraxes back into her arms. After she’d gotten frightened by Valdis, she wasn’t sure if the cat would return to her. She was pleased to find that she was braver than that. “There you are,” She murmured, standing once more as she regarded Trystan. “I should have expected she’d find you in my absence. Did she paw at you for food?” She asked, fingers scratching behind Meraxes’ ear. “And have you any news? Please tell me my brothers and the Lord Captain do not mean to keep us confined her for the duration of the night. I am worn and ready to be rid of this gown.” She sighed, speaking far more freely with her shield. 

   Loreza gently turned the ring on her finger around and around. It had worn smooth from such treatment for so long, but it comforted her. It had felt strange, as if a piece of her had been taken, when the ring had been stolen. It was not worth much, a ring that was beautiful but made of cheaper material. It was not the monetary worth that mattered, however, as it had been a gift from her father before he had passed. A simple ring from a man who believed himself simple--a humble lord, who desired only to offer wise counsel to his liege lord. It reminded her to be logical, to maintain her head, and without it she had felt momentarily lost. Her father would have chided her for that too, the ring did not change her duties nor her abilities. She turned the ring again anyway, thankful that it was back. 

   “Are you well, lady Arwyn?”