#westeros.meme

She looks up from her empty goblet, exhaustion so deep her violet gaze is dimmed to a murky color. The corner of her mouth quirks, nearly impressed with Martyn. He was right. “I’m just so tired.” Aelora murmured, “And not from the wine.” Her voice cracked, and the young Targaryen bowed her head slightly, Martyn would never know her restless nights, the constant ache of knowing and witnessing with no real to power to do anything. To understand anything. “Fear is easier to curb than anger.”

“What would you have me do?” She exasperated spinning around to face Maesella, fear seemed settled in Aelora’s bones after twenty-five years after all. “How can I abandon all thought and live blissfully like so many other lords and ladies of court? Make no mistake, I do not relish in this. I envy them.”  Envy you, though Aelora couldn’t dare speak it. “I do not know what life is like without fear. But Gods, I’d love to try.” 

She blinks in false surprise at Lord Euron, “Forgive me. I didn’t realize I’d struck such a nerve.” Religion is never a friendly topic of conversation. Aelora should have learned this by now. “Do not worry, my lord. Your secrets have nothing to fear from me.”

“Belief and trust are not interchangeable.” Aelora states bluntly, for the first time not finding it difficult to hold her oldest sister’s gaze. The remark is draped in quiet challenge that screams at her instead. “I wish nothing more than to trust all my sisters.” She continues calmly, “I believe what I observe after that. The two have rarely aligned as of late.”