Mousie
Lurking Snapdragon
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clockwork girl
memento mori
The Red Keep was aflame with gossip and scandal—tongues wagging madly in response to the recent events that had taken them all by shock. Crown Prince Rhaegar, leaving his wife and child to whisk away Lyanna Stark! The execution of Rickard Stark, and his son! The brewing of something greater! Away from the whispering but unable to block out their influence, a young woman sat at her writing desk, blankly eyeing a cyvasse board. The pieces were black and red instead of the more traditional colors of black and white. The red King piece was surrounded and backed into a corner—it was obvious that in the next move, it would be lost. After a long silence, the young woman took a deep breath and began to move the pieces, arranging them this way and that.
The afternoon sun was shining through the curtained windows, casting patterns on her head of silvery hair. While being very spacious, the room was suspiciously void of smaller furniture or trinkets, with only the table set and the bed left behind.
“I am to be wed, Aeron.” she whispered into the air. Of course there was no answer, and with a small self-deprecating laugh, she shook her head. How many afternoons had they spent playing cyvasse on this very board? Too many to count, surely. They'd both taken quickly to it, studying strategies and testing them out. Even when he'd been bedridden, he--
A knock interrupted her thoughts and she gave a start, turning her head towards the door. “Milady Aeranys, 'tis I,” came a familiar voice, to which she visibly relaxed and hastened the visitor in. The door opened and a plump woman well into her fourties strode in, carrying rolls of fabric. “The dressmakers are practically tearing their hair out, milady—perhaps it is time to choose a color? They will have to work night and day to finish it in time as it is.” She busily spread out the fine cloth, varying in color and design, turning it this way and that to showcase them.
Aeranys forced down the sigh and put on a smile instead, rising from her chair to look at the fabric. In truth, she didn't care. “They all look lovely, Madge,” she said amiably. “Perhaps you should lend me your sharp eye.” The plump lady chuckled, holding up each to the princess and looking at the effect each color had.
“Perhaps the lilac cloth would be best,” she clucked, holding it up once more. “The same shade as your eyes, milady. T'will look beyond lovely.”
“Then we shall go with the lilac,” the younger woman nodded. The lady nodded back vigorously, tutting in delight as she rolled up the bolts of cloth again—but the princess found that her attention was already wandering. It was not until the third time she was called that she realized that Lady Madge was attempting to speak to her. “I apologize, Madge. What is it?”
The older woman let out a confounded huff, but her expression softened into a motherly one. “How are you faring, my princess?” she asked softly, genuine worry in her warm brown eyes. There was a reason for the familiarity—Madge had been her nursemaid and continued to be a chambermaid throughout her life. She was much like a second mother to her, and very dear to her.
“I am well,” she replied at first, though Madge's skeptical look wore her down. Aeranys found that she was frowning. “I don't know, Madge. I...I fear I am a bit lost.”
“Anyone would be,” the older woman said kindly, patting the princess's hand. “I can't stay long, milady—there's much to be done in preparation, but...I will come back later, and we can have a proper chat.” Aeranys nodded with another smile, watching her gather up the bolts and hurry out, leaving her to her thoughts again.
She had known from a very young age that she would one day be her brother's bride, and accepted it as tradition required. She had loved him very much—though, in what way, she could not be sure, even now. It was difficult to separate filial love from romantic love when being a Targaryen most often meant marrying sibling to sibling. Regardless, she would have been a dutiful wife like her mother. Aeranys had always thought that she was especially fortunate, for she and Aeron had gotten along quite well. Not many could boast a loving relationship within an arranged marriage, was it not so?
Losing him had been a devastating blow to their family, but especially her. With one death, she had lost brother, friend, and future husband. She had never quite fully recovered, even if she masqueraded otherwise. To grieve for her brother, the princess had turned down every proposal and suitor. Not only had the wounds not healed, she had felt it was a fearful gamble to be made—marrying someone she did not know well. And yet here she was, doing just that.
Not a week ago, her mother had come to her with the proposal. A betrothal to Daeron Martell, heir to Sunspear—a marriage that would create a sorely needed ally in House Martell. To those with a shrewd outlook, it was obvious that the disquiet at the disappearance of Rhaegar with the betrothed of Robert Baratheon would become something more powerful, especially after how Lord Stark had been treated. House Targaryen had made enemies through this, and even some of their allies no doubt were questioning the benefit of staying loyal. Aeranys knew plenty about the rivalry between her father and the Hand, Tywin Lannister. They were linked by the bond of marriage through Rhaegar and Cersei, but now... It only made sense that allies had to be made anew, and one of the quickest and most beneficial methods was through a marriage.
She had said yes, because now she was the only one who could protect her family. Even though she cared little for her father, she knew that if House Targaryen fell, the casualties would most likely be their entire family. She wanted to protect her mother and her remaining older brother, wherever he was. Better she wed and prevent a disaster. She had said yes, despite only knowing his name, title, age, and a few qualities that were no doubt glossed over. What sort of wild claims had they made of her in order for them to take the offer, she wondered. After all, she was twenty years old, older than most would expect from a new bride.
Sitting back down in front of the cyvasse board, she picked up the dragon piece, studying it for a moment before placing it next to the king. She tried to tell herself that it did not really matter either way—marriage was simply fulfilling her duties to her family and new husband, was it not? It was a contract, an exchange. For the sake of the many, and not the individual. But even as she told herself that, part of her was deeply worried about the kind of person her betrothed was. They'd told her he was young, and a skilled fighter, so much so that they'd offered for him to join the Kingsguard. They'd told her he was said to be handsome, and cultured—and of noble character. But what was he truly like? Aeranys knew there was no use in losing sleep over this, for she would find out soon enough. And yet, she could not stop turning the whole thing around and around in her head.
The afternoon sun was shining through the curtained windows, casting patterns on her head of silvery hair. While being very spacious, the room was suspiciously void of smaller furniture or trinkets, with only the table set and the bed left behind.
“I am to be wed, Aeron.” she whispered into the air. Of course there was no answer, and with a small self-deprecating laugh, she shook her head. How many afternoons had they spent playing cyvasse on this very board? Too many to count, surely. They'd both taken quickly to it, studying strategies and testing them out. Even when he'd been bedridden, he--
A knock interrupted her thoughts and she gave a start, turning her head towards the door. “Milady Aeranys, 'tis I,” came a familiar voice, to which she visibly relaxed and hastened the visitor in. The door opened and a plump woman well into her fourties strode in, carrying rolls of fabric. “The dressmakers are practically tearing their hair out, milady—perhaps it is time to choose a color? They will have to work night and day to finish it in time as it is.” She busily spread out the fine cloth, varying in color and design, turning it this way and that to showcase them.
Aeranys forced down the sigh and put on a smile instead, rising from her chair to look at the fabric. In truth, she didn't care. “They all look lovely, Madge,” she said amiably. “Perhaps you should lend me your sharp eye.” The plump lady chuckled, holding up each to the princess and looking at the effect each color had.
“Perhaps the lilac cloth would be best,” she clucked, holding it up once more. “The same shade as your eyes, milady. T'will look beyond lovely.”
“Then we shall go with the lilac,” the younger woman nodded. The lady nodded back vigorously, tutting in delight as she rolled up the bolts of cloth again—but the princess found that her attention was already wandering. It was not until the third time she was called that she realized that Lady Madge was attempting to speak to her. “I apologize, Madge. What is it?”
The older woman let out a confounded huff, but her expression softened into a motherly one. “How are you faring, my princess?” she asked softly, genuine worry in her warm brown eyes. There was a reason for the familiarity—Madge had been her nursemaid and continued to be a chambermaid throughout her life. She was much like a second mother to her, and very dear to her.
“I am well,” she replied at first, though Madge's skeptical look wore her down. Aeranys found that she was frowning. “I don't know, Madge. I...I fear I am a bit lost.”
“Anyone would be,” the older woman said kindly, patting the princess's hand. “I can't stay long, milady—there's much to be done in preparation, but...I will come back later, and we can have a proper chat.” Aeranys nodded with another smile, watching her gather up the bolts and hurry out, leaving her to her thoughts again.
She had known from a very young age that she would one day be her brother's bride, and accepted it as tradition required. She had loved him very much—though, in what way, she could not be sure, even now. It was difficult to separate filial love from romantic love when being a Targaryen most often meant marrying sibling to sibling. Regardless, she would have been a dutiful wife like her mother. Aeranys had always thought that she was especially fortunate, for she and Aeron had gotten along quite well. Not many could boast a loving relationship within an arranged marriage, was it not so?
Losing him had been a devastating blow to their family, but especially her. With one death, she had lost brother, friend, and future husband. She had never quite fully recovered, even if she masqueraded otherwise. To grieve for her brother, the princess had turned down every proposal and suitor. Not only had the wounds not healed, she had felt it was a fearful gamble to be made—marrying someone she did not know well. And yet here she was, doing just that.
Not a week ago, her mother had come to her with the proposal. A betrothal to Daeron Martell, heir to Sunspear—a marriage that would create a sorely needed ally in House Martell. To those with a shrewd outlook, it was obvious that the disquiet at the disappearance of Rhaegar with the betrothed of Robert Baratheon would become something more powerful, especially after how Lord Stark had been treated. House Targaryen had made enemies through this, and even some of their allies no doubt were questioning the benefit of staying loyal. Aeranys knew plenty about the rivalry between her father and the Hand, Tywin Lannister. They were linked by the bond of marriage through Rhaegar and Cersei, but now... It only made sense that allies had to be made anew, and one of the quickest and most beneficial methods was through a marriage.
She had said yes, because now she was the only one who could protect her family. Even though she cared little for her father, she knew that if House Targaryen fell, the casualties would most likely be their entire family. She wanted to protect her mother and her remaining older brother, wherever he was. Better she wed and prevent a disaster. She had said yes, despite only knowing his name, title, age, and a few qualities that were no doubt glossed over. What sort of wild claims had they made of her in order for them to take the offer, she wondered. After all, she was twenty years old, older than most would expect from a new bride.
Sitting back down in front of the cyvasse board, she picked up the dragon piece, studying it for a moment before placing it next to the king. She tried to tell herself that it did not really matter either way—marriage was simply fulfilling her duties to her family and new husband, was it not? It was a contract, an exchange. For the sake of the many, and not the individual. But even as she told herself that, part of her was deeply worried about the kind of person her betrothed was. They'd told her he was young, and a skilled fighter, so much so that they'd offered for him to join the Kingsguard. They'd told her he was said to be handsome, and cultured—and of noble character. But what was he truly like? Aeranys knew there was no use in losing sleep over this, for she would find out soon enough. And yet, she could not stop turning the whole thing around and around in her head.
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Mousie
Lurking Snapdragon
Merick Yyronwood
Merick stood guard outside the door of Aeranys Targaryen, the second heir to the Iron Throne. His duties as a knight were nothing more than a substantial part of his life, and he vowed that he would protect his King's daughter no matter the circumstance. Over the past few years, Merick was already considered to be just as great as the now dead Ser Arthur Dayne for whom he squired for. Perhaps not in swordsmanship, but in honor and valor as a knight and true protector of those he swore to serve. Ser Arthur Dayne's legacy lived with Merick, as did his house sword Dawn. Normally the Dayne's wouldn't give any other person the privilege of holding onto their ancestral sword, but peculiarly, Merick was an exception. Perhaps House Yyronwood and Dayne had created an alliance and allowed this to happen. Whatever the case, it was impossible for Merick to bear the title, "Sword of The Morning".
Merick noticed a familiar face stepping across the halls. It was the dressmaker Made that carried a few stacked rolls of fabric of ornate colors and patterns. Merick would've remained silent and allowed her to enter his Lady Aeranys, but with a possible war brewing because of the Crown Prince Rhaegar, Merick couldn't take any chances. He edged his body towards her in a polite manner, in which the middle-aged woman gave a discerning look back to him. "Please announce yourself to Princess Aeranys please, Madge. I want you to have her permission before you enter her room." Her discerning look quickly turned into a sour one.
As the woman announced herself and practically barged in, Merick noticed a fellow Kingsguard approach the hallway. It was Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of The Kingsguard. "And what do I owe the honor of being in your presence, Ser Gerold?" Merick called out in a soft voice. The husky man made his way to Merick in a hastily manner. "You've been request to meet with the king in the throne room. "I suppose you're here to guard Princess Aeranys then?" Gerold Hightower was finally face to face with Merick. He had a look in his eyes of fear. "Correct, Ser Merick. And I advice you approach the king with a respectful approach today." Gerold whispered.
Merick knew that no one stronger could defend Princess Aeranys, and that she was in good hands. But Merick felt a tension with Gerold Hightower. It seemed as if the veteran knight was scared of something, but what? "What seemed to be the problem earlier before, Ser Merick?" Called out a small voice behind him. Merick turned to see the dressmaker huffing her way to catch up with him. "I'm sorry, but it's my duty to ensure that Princess Aeranys knows who enters her chamber. Besides, why are you in such a hurry m'lady?" Merick replied. "The courts been really busy lately, as you know that there has been a betrothal with Princess Aeranys and Prince Daeron Martell." That name seemed so familiar to Merick. It had been years since he had heard it. "Wait, do you mean the Martell that slayed his brother in a duel?" Merick and the thick-faced woman reached a stairwell. "That's the one Ser Merick. Rumor has it that the Martell boy hasn't been with a girl in all his years, unlike his fellow countryman."
Merick remembered Daeron being a renowned capable warrior with the sword and spear, but that's as far as his potential reached. He would've made a suitable member of the Kingsguard had it not been for the fateful accident that occurred many years ago that cost him his brothers life. Merick knew in the back of his mind that the actions of Rhaegar have inspired many to plot a rebellion against The Iron Throne, and that Dorne was potentially among them. Marrying the second heir to The Iron Throne to a Prince of Dorne would seem to be the best strategic option they had so far. But he knew that Aerys would be against it to begin with, and there are only few people in The Seven Kingdoms who could convince such a marriage. "Ser Merick, we'll be separating here. I do hope you have a wonderful day, mine will be busy." Merick nodded at her, and continued his way to the throne room. Whatever the case is, his king has summoned him and requests his audience.
Merick stood guard outside the door of Aeranys Targaryen, the second heir to the Iron Throne. His duties as a knight were nothing more than a substantial part of his life, and he vowed that he would protect his King's daughter no matter the circumstance. Over the past few years, Merick was already considered to be just as great as the now dead Ser Arthur Dayne for whom he squired for. Perhaps not in swordsmanship, but in honor and valor as a knight and true protector of those he swore to serve. Ser Arthur Dayne's legacy lived with Merick, as did his house sword Dawn. Normally the Dayne's wouldn't give any other person the privilege of holding onto their ancestral sword, but peculiarly, Merick was an exception. Perhaps House Yyronwood and Dayne had created an alliance and allowed this to happen. Whatever the case, it was impossible for Merick to bear the title, "Sword of The Morning".
Merick noticed a familiar face stepping across the halls. It was the dressmaker Made that carried a few stacked rolls of fabric of ornate colors and patterns. Merick would've remained silent and allowed her to enter his Lady Aeranys, but with a possible war brewing because of the Crown Prince Rhaegar, Merick couldn't take any chances. He edged his body towards her in a polite manner, in which the middle-aged woman gave a discerning look back to him. "Please announce yourself to Princess Aeranys please, Madge. I want you to have her permission before you enter her room." Her discerning look quickly turned into a sour one.
As the woman announced herself and practically barged in, Merick noticed a fellow Kingsguard approach the hallway. It was Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of The Kingsguard. "And what do I owe the honor of being in your presence, Ser Gerold?" Merick called out in a soft voice. The husky man made his way to Merick in a hastily manner. "You've been request to meet with the king in the throne room. "I suppose you're here to guard Princess Aeranys then?" Gerold Hightower was finally face to face with Merick. He had a look in his eyes of fear. "Correct, Ser Merick. And I advice you approach the king with a respectful approach today." Gerold whispered.
Merick knew that no one stronger could defend Princess Aeranys, and that she was in good hands. But Merick felt a tension with Gerold Hightower. It seemed as if the veteran knight was scared of something, but what? "What seemed to be the problem earlier before, Ser Merick?" Called out a small voice behind him. Merick turned to see the dressmaker huffing her way to catch up with him. "I'm sorry, but it's my duty to ensure that Princess Aeranys knows who enters her chamber. Besides, why are you in such a hurry m'lady?" Merick replied. "The courts been really busy lately, as you know that there has been a betrothal with Princess Aeranys and Prince Daeron Martell." That name seemed so familiar to Merick. It had been years since he had heard it. "Wait, do you mean the Martell that slayed his brother in a duel?" Merick and the thick-faced woman reached a stairwell. "That's the one Ser Merick. Rumor has it that the Martell boy hasn't been with a girl in all his years, unlike his fellow countryman."
Merick remembered Daeron being a renowned capable warrior with the sword and spear, but that's as far as his potential reached. He would've made a suitable member of the Kingsguard had it not been for the fateful accident that occurred many years ago that cost him his brothers life. Merick knew in the back of his mind that the actions of Rhaegar have inspired many to plot a rebellion against The Iron Throne, and that Dorne was potentially among them. Marrying the second heir to The Iron Throne to a Prince of Dorne would seem to be the best strategic option they had so far. But he knew that Aerys would be against it to begin with, and there are only few people in The Seven Kingdoms who could convince such a marriage. "Ser Merick, we'll be separating here. I do hope you have a wonderful day, mine will be busy." Merick nodded at her, and continued his way to the throne room. Whatever the case is, his king has summoned him and requests his audience.
Merick stood guard outside the door of Aeranys Targaryen, the second heir to the Iron Throne. His duties as a knight were nothing more than a substantial part of his life, and he vowed that he would protect his King's daughter no matter the circumstance. Over the past few years, Merick was already considered to be just as great as the now dead Ser Arthur Dayne for whom he squired for. Perhaps not in swordsmanship, but in honor and valor as a knight and true protector of those he swore to serve. Ser Arthur Dayne's legacy lived with Merick, as did his house sword Dawn. Normally the Dayne's wouldn't give any other person the privilege of holding onto their ancestral sword, but peculiarly, Merick was an exception. Perhaps House Yyronwood and Dayne had created an alliance and allowed this to happen. Whatever the case, it was impossible for Merick to bear the title, "Sword of The Morning".
Merick noticed a familiar face stepping across the halls. It was the dressmaker Made that carried a few stacked rolls of fabric of ornate colors and patterns. Merick would've remained silent and allowed her to enter his Lady Aeranys, but with a possible war brewing because of the Crown Prince Rhaegar, Merick couldn't take any chances. He edged his body towards her in a polite manner, in which the middle-aged woman gave a discerning look back to him. "Please announce yourself to Princess Aeranys please, Madge. I want you to have her permission before you enter her room." Her discerning look quickly turned into a sour one.
As the woman announced herself and practically barged in, Merick noticed a fellow Kingsguard approach the hallway. It was Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of The Kingsguard. "And what do I owe the honor of being in your presence, Ser Gerold?" Merick called out in a soft voice. The husky man made his way to Merick in a hastily manner. "You've been request to meet with the king in the throne room. "I suppose you're here to guard Princess Aeranys then?" Gerold Hightower was finally face to face with Merick. He had a look in his eyes of fear. "Correct, Ser Merick. And I advice you approach the king with a respectful approach today." Gerold whispered.
Merick knew that no one stronger could defend Princess Aeranys, and that she was in good hands. But Merick felt a tension with Gerold Hightower. It seemed as if the veteran knight was scared of something, but what? "What seemed to be the problem earlier before, Ser Merick?" Called out a small voice behind him. Merick turned to see the dressmaker huffing her way to catch up with him. "I'm sorry, but it's my duty to ensure that Princess Aeranys knows who enters her chamber. Besides, why are you in such a hurry m'lady?" Merick replied. "The courts been really busy lately, as you know that there has been a betrothal with Princess Aeranys and Prince Daeron Martell." That name seemed so familiar to Merick. It had been years since he had heard it. "Wait, do you mean the Martell that slayed his brother in a duel?" Merick and the thick-faced woman reached a stairwell. "That's the one Ser Merick. Rumor has it that the Martell boy hasn't been with a girl in all his years, unlike his fellow countryman."
Merick remembered Daeron being a renowned capable warrior with the sword and spear, but that's as far as his potential reached. He would've made a suitable member of the Kingsguard had it not been for the fateful accident that occurred many years ago that cost him his brothers life. Merick knew in the back of his mind that the actions of Rhaegar have inspired many to plot a rebellion against The Iron Throne, and that Dorne was potentially among them. Marrying the second heir to The Iron Throne to a Prince of Dorne would seem to be the best strategic option they had so far. But he knew that Aerys would be against it to begin with, and there are only few people in The Seven Kingdoms who could convince such a marriage. "Ser Merick, we'll be separating here. I do hope you have a wonderful day, mine will be busy." Merick nodded at her, and continued his way to the throne room. Whatever the case is, his king has summoned him and requests his audience.
Merick stood guard outside the door of Aeranys Targaryen, the second heir to the Iron Throne. His duties as a knight were nothing more than a substantial part of his life, and he vowed that he would protect his King's daughter no matter the circumstance. Over the past few years, Merick was already considered to be just as great as the now dead Ser Arthur Dayne for whom he squired for. Perhaps not in swordsmanship, but in honor and valor as a knight and true protector of those he swore to serve. Ser Arthur Dayne's legacy lived with Merick, as did his house sword Dawn. Normally the Dayne's wouldn't give any other person the privilege of holding onto their ancestral sword, but peculiarly, Merick was an exception. Perhaps House Yyronwood and Dayne had created an alliance and allowed this to happen. Whatever the case, it was impossible for Merick to bear the title, "Sword of The Morning".
Merick noticed a familiar face stepping across the halls. It was the dressmaker Made that carried a few stacked rolls of fabric of ornate colors and patterns. Merick would've remained silent and allowed her to enter his Lady Aeranys, but with a possible war brewing because of the Crown Prince Rhaegar, Merick couldn't take any chances. He edged his body towards her in a polite manner, in which the middle-aged woman gave a discerning look back to him. "Please announce yourself to Princess Aeranys please, Madge. I want you to have her permission before you enter her room." Her discerning look quickly turned into a sour one.
As the woman announced herself and practically barged in, Merick noticed a fellow Kingsguard approach the hallway. It was Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of The Kingsguard. "And what do I owe the honor of being in your presence, Ser Gerold?" Merick called out in a soft voice. The husky man made his way to Merick in a hastily manner. "You've been request to meet with the king in the throne room. "I suppose you're here to guard Princess Aeranys then?" Gerold Hightower was finally face to face with Merick. He had a look in his eyes of fear. "Correct, Ser Merick. And I advice you approach the king with a respectful approach today." Gerold whispered.
Merick knew that no one stronger could defend Princess Aeranys, and that she was in good hands. But Merick felt a tension with Gerold Hightower. It seemed as if the veteran knight was scared of something, but what? "What seemed to be the problem earlier before, Ser Merick?" Called out a small voice behind him. Merick turned to see the dressmaker huffing her way to catch up with him. "I'm sorry, but it's my duty to ensure that Princess Aeranys knows who enters her chamber. Besides, why are you in such a hurry m'lady?" Merick replied. "The courts been really busy lately, as you know that there has been a betrothal with Princess Aeranys and Prince Daeron Martell." That name seemed so familiar to Merick. It had been years since he had heard it. "Wait, do you mean the Martell that slayed his brother in a duel?" Merick and the thick-faced woman reached a stairwell. "That's the one Ser Merick. Rumor has it that the Martell boy hasn't been with a girl in all his years, unlike his fellow countryman."
Merick remembered Daeron being a renowned capable warrior with the sword and spear, but that's as far as his potential reached. He would've made a suitable member of the Kingsguard had it not been for the fateful accident that occurred many years ago that cost him his brothers life. Merick knew in the back of his mind that the actions of Rhaegar have inspired many to plot a rebellion against The Iron Throne, and that Dorne was potentially among them. Marrying the second heir to The Iron Throne to a Prince of Dorne would seem to be the best strategic option they had so far. But he knew that Aerys would be against it to begin with, and there are only few people in The Seven Kingdoms who could convince such a marriage. "Ser Merick, we'll be separating here. I do hope you have a wonderful day, mine will be busy." Merick nodded at her, and continued his way to the throne room. Whatever the case is, his king has summoned him and requests his audience.
clockwork girl
memento mori
Sunsets at the Red Keep were worth seeing, especially when one resided in one of the towers that offered a wonderful view. In front of a polished mirror, Aeranys stood still as her mother arranged her hair. Though it was a peaceful picture, the mood was heavy with unspoken words.
“Have you thought about how you’ll wear your hair when you are presented?” her mother asked her lightheartedly, observing the reflection.
“I haven’t, not yet anyways,” Aeranys responded with a forced smile, playing along for her mother. It was better to take her mind off things, even for a little, she supposed.
“If we put it up, it’ll showcase your lovely neck,” her mother mused, twisting up her long hair to create a visual. “But if you wear it long, it makes you look more youthful.” Gentle fingers arranged her locks about her shoulders, framing her face just so. “What do you think, my daughter?”
Unable to answer, Aeranys laid a gentle hand on her mother’s, heart twisting at the sight of her. Queen Rhaella was dressed as elegantly as ever, but she could tell the amount of painstaking care her mother had put into covering signs of her injuries. Her beautiful pale silver hair was worn long, but it wasn’t to look youthful, but to cover the scratches and bite marks on her neck. Aeranys missed the days when her mother used to wear her long hair up, before the queen had had to endure terrible things. The Queen offered her a weary smile, stroking her daughter’s cheek affectionately. Mother and daughter stood together quietly, enjoying a moment of bittersweet peace.
There were many worries tumbling about in the princess’s mind, but a prominent one that was rapidly growing in severity as the days passed was her mother. Did she truly have no other choice but to leave her mother behind, all alone in the Red Keep to be abused so?
Aeranys knew that she could not do much to prevent the horrors her mother went through even if she stayed. After all, she had been unable to protect her through the years—though not due to a lack of effort. Oh, how she had tried. She’d begged, she’d pleaded, and when it had not worked, she’d attempted to forcibly prevent it. Her father had been furious and had stricken Aeranys repeatedly in his rage. She remembered how her mother had screamed, and how the beating had not stopped until Aeron had dragged their father off of her. Both mother and brother had made her swear never to try and interfere again--for her own safety. In truth, it hurt her more to silently stand by.
“Your father has arranged for a member of the Kingsguard to escort you to Dorne,” the older woman said quietly. “No harm will befall you under his protection.” But who will protect you? Aeranys wanted to ask. However the princess kept silent, nodding dutifully. Even the Kingsguard, sworn to protect royal blood, could not protect her mother from the King.
What if my betrothed doesn't like me?She wanted to ask. What if he is…unkind? What if he treats me like father treats you? What if this fails to save our family?But once again, she kept quiet, nothing giving away her distress except for a flicker in her lilac eyes.
“My sweet child,” Queen Rhaella breathed softly, brushing back a stray lock of hair from her daughter’s face. The queen knew how her daughter tried to be dutiful by never giving voice to her concerns—trying to prevent herself from becoming a burden. “You will be just fine, Aeranys.” It was not easy for the queen to send her youngest and only daughter far away to Dorne, after losing one son to death and another gone missing. Even she did not know what kind of a boy she was sending her daughter to. Rumors said he was a kinslayer. However Queen Rhaella was just as duty bound as her daughter, as the queens that had come before her. “I pray that you have a kinder fate than I.”
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Mousie
Lurking Snapdragon
Merick Yyronwood
Merick slipped into the hallways as swiftly as he could. His armor made a clinking noise that echoed wildly as he was nearing Aeranys' chamber. Merick could still hear the horrible screaming in the back of his mind. Despite the screaming, he still focused his attention on getting to Princess Aeranys as soon as possible. As he finally climbed the stairs to the floor Aeranys was on, he had to pause and catch his breath. It was difficult sprinting in Kingsguard armor, and even more so when you're winded from seeing a gruesome fate. As he remained in a wounded looking posture, he remembered the exact words Ser Gerold spoke to him. Get Aeranys to Dorne as soon as possible.
The sturdy shouldered knight brushed sweat back into his hair as he finally approached the thick door that kept the princess safe. With three sudden knocks, he called out her name, "Aeranys, it's Ser Merick. I request that you open your door immediately. It's of the most urgency!" Merick still
had a worried look in his eyes. His posture had changed from exhausted to a more tense state.
Daeron Martell
Daeron paced back and fourth through the Water Gardens. The evening sun peered through the tall palm trees that showered the courtyard with elegant shapes of shade. His right hand rested on the hilt of his bastard sword, while his left one dangled lazily. He pondered on the fact that a Targaryen was going to be married to him. He'd never been with a girl or boy before, and had no idea what romance was like. His concentrated look turned into an expressionless one as his younger sister Nymeria entered the court he was in. "It's been a while since I've seen you here, Daeron." She spoke out to him in a sly voice he was so eager to hear. It had been months since he's seen her. "I thought I'd take an evening stroll and recollect my childhood. Father always took us here when we were children, Nym." Daeron replied in a gentle voice. "This was Trystane's favorite place to be. He'd come here to see Father with many girls he brought from all over. I think I saw a certain boy a few times too."
Daeron had a saddened look in his eyes when his sister mentioned his older brother. The thing that saddened Daeron most was the fact that he didn't feel lost without him. He'd felt lost without his sister as she avoided him after he accidentally killed his brother. Although no one in Dorne called him a Kinslayer thanks to the work of his Father, he knew his reputation across Westeros was still in ruin. This Targaryen girl could perhaps be his redemption to a better life. Across many of his thoughts, true love never occurred to him however. "Daeron, I have to confess to you... Father sent me to come see you." Nymeria began to explain. "He worries about you a lot you know. Everyday I'm here with him, he always asks about you Daeron. Every single day he asks the same question. I wonder how my son is doing. And everyday I wonder, if Father cares about how I'm doing?"
Nymeria gave Daeron a cold disheartened look. "I'll never forgive you for killing our brother, Daeron. And I don't believe that you did it on accident. You probably did it so you'd be given the opportunity which should have been Trystane's. To be wed to a Targaryen whore." Daeron continued to give her a sad look. His guilt overwhelmed him so much that he was left speechless. The first time his sister spoke to him in months, and she broke his heart again. "I should leave. I have preparations to make in Dorne for the princess in a fortnight. It was nice seeing you, sister." Daeron tried to flawlessly respond, but choked out. He slightly bowed his head as he began walking away. He could still feel his sisters cold gaze fixated behind his back.
Merick slipped into the hallways as swiftly as he could. His armor made a clinking noise that echoed wildly as he was nearing Aeranys' chamber. Merick could still hear the horrible screaming in the back of his mind. Despite the screaming, he still focused his attention on getting to Princess Aeranys as soon as possible. As he finally climbed the stairs to the floor Aeranys was on, he had to pause and catch his breath. It was difficult sprinting in Kingsguard armor, and even more so when you're winded from seeing a gruesome fate. As he remained in a wounded looking posture, he remembered the exact words Ser Gerold spoke to him. Get Aeranys to Dorne as soon as possible.
The sturdy shouldered knight brushed sweat back into his hair as he finally approached the thick door that kept the princess safe. With three sudden knocks, he called out her name, "Aeranys, it's Ser Merick. I request that you open your door immediately. It's of the most urgency!" Merick still
had a worried look in his eyes. His posture had changed from exhausted to a more tense state.
Daeron Martell
Daeron paced back and fourth through the Water Gardens. The evening sun peered through the tall palm trees that showered the courtyard with elegant shapes of shade. His right hand rested on the hilt of his bastard sword, while his left one dangled lazily. He pondered on the fact that a Targaryen was going to be married to him. He'd never been with a girl or boy before, and had no idea what romance was like. His concentrated look turned into an expressionless one as his younger sister Nymeria entered the court he was in. "It's been a while since I've seen you here, Daeron." She spoke out to him in a sly voice he was so eager to hear. It had been months since he's seen her. "I thought I'd take an evening stroll and recollect my childhood. Father always took us here when we were children, Nym." Daeron replied in a gentle voice. "This was Trystane's favorite place to be. He'd come here to see Father with many girls he brought from all over. I think I saw a certain boy a few times too."
Daeron had a saddened look in his eyes when his sister mentioned his older brother. The thing that saddened Daeron most was the fact that he didn't feel lost without him. He'd felt lost without his sister as she avoided him after he accidentally killed his brother. Although no one in Dorne called him a Kinslayer thanks to the work of his Father, he knew his reputation across Westeros was still in ruin. This Targaryen girl could perhaps be his redemption to a better life. Across many of his thoughts, true love never occurred to him however. "Daeron, I have to confess to you... Father sent me to come see you." Nymeria began to explain. "He worries about you a lot you know. Everyday I'm here with him, he always asks about you Daeron. Every single day he asks the same question. I wonder how my son is doing. And everyday I wonder, if Father cares about how I'm doing?"
Nymeria gave Daeron a cold disheartened look. "I'll never forgive you for killing our brother, Daeron. And I don't believe that you did it on accident. You probably did it so you'd be given the opportunity which should have been Trystane's. To be wed to a Targaryen whore." Daeron continued to give her a sad look. His guilt overwhelmed him so much that he was left speechless. The first time his sister spoke to him in months, and she broke his heart again. "I should leave. I have preparations to make in Dorne for the princess in a fortnight. It was nice seeing you, sister." Daeron tried to flawlessly respond, but choked out. He slightly bowed his head as he began walking away. He could still feel his sisters cold gaze fixated behind his back.
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clockwork girl
memento mori
Madge had come with the half-finished dress—it had yet taken its full shape, but the color was indeed lovely on her. “Prince or not, he won’t be able to keep his eyes off of you, Princess,” Madge clucked happily, pinning the waistline snugly to display the pleasing outline of her hips. “Look how it flows when you move!” The plump lady was happier than the princess herself, who was trying her best to look interested.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen the dressmakers work so fast,” Aeranys told the older woman, her voice taking on a slightly apologetic tone. “I hope they’re not working themselves to the bone.”
“Nonsense! It’s not every day that our princess is to be wed,” Madge tutted, fondly patting the princess’s hand. “It’s been a long wait, hasn’t it?”
Aeranys supposed she was right. Had Aeron lived, she would have been wed before her seventeenth birthday. Would she have worn a dress like this one? What would he have said to her? Would they have been happy together? Or…would the madness have taken him later, like her father? An involuntary shudder rippled through her, but before Madge could inquire what was troubling her, three loud knocks were battered against her door, surprising both of the women. It was Ser Yyronwood, if she was not mistaken.
There was urgency in the knight’s voice, and her heart gave a jolt in her chest, a thousand possibilities running through her mind at top speed. There were too many things that could have gone wrong, especially after the recent events. Was it Rhaegar? Was the Red Keep under attack? Was it her mother? Despite being in a half-finished dress that would have been improper to greet a man in, she rushed to the door and flung it open.
“What is it?” she asked, her eyes wide. “Speak, good ser.” Her gaze roved about the knight and she could see he seemed winded, and… “Are you alright?” she blinked, concern flitting over her features. What in the world had happened?
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen the dressmakers work so fast,” Aeranys told the older woman, her voice taking on a slightly apologetic tone. “I hope they’re not working themselves to the bone.”
“Nonsense! It’s not every day that our princess is to be wed,” Madge tutted, fondly patting the princess’s hand. “It’s been a long wait, hasn’t it?”
Aeranys supposed she was right. Had Aeron lived, she would have been wed before her seventeenth birthday. Would she have worn a dress like this one? What would he have said to her? Would they have been happy together? Or…would the madness have taken him later, like her father? An involuntary shudder rippled through her, but before Madge could inquire what was troubling her, three loud knocks were battered against her door, surprising both of the women. It was Ser Yyronwood, if she was not mistaken.
There was urgency in the knight’s voice, and her heart gave a jolt in her chest, a thousand possibilities running through her mind at top speed. There were too many things that could have gone wrong, especially after the recent events. Was it Rhaegar? Was the Red Keep under attack? Was it her mother? Despite being in a half-finished dress that would have been improper to greet a man in, she rushed to the door and flung it open.
“What is it?” she asked, her eyes wide. “Speak, good ser.” Her gaze roved about the knight and she could see he seemed winded, and… “Are you alright?” she blinked, concern flitting over her features. What in the world had happened?
Mousie
Lurking Snapdragon
Merick Yyronwood
Merick began to catch his breath in steady intervals, but struggled to speak. "There's no time to explain Princess, we need to get you on a ship or horseback for Dorne. I need you to trust me Princess." His look turned to Madge's concerned expression. "Madge, I need you to pack her essentials. I'll take care of the rest once we arrive at Dorne. But there's no time to wait." The disgruntled knights lungs were at a normal pace now as he began to calm down. But this calmness quickly ended as he heard shouts a floor below them. "GET THE PRINCESS! GET THE PRINCESS NOW YOU DOGS!"
Merick stared deeply into Aeranys' eyes. "Princess, we've ran out of time. I've already made preparations for three possible escorts, two of which have not been compromised. You're to exit the Red Keep immediately. Madge, take her to the port where you'll find a man name Carvio. He's been paid a handsome fee to sail her to the Stormlands at lea-" Multiple heavy footsteps began to collide against the stairs as they neared closer to Aeranys' chamber. Merick turned around and walked out into the hallway. "Go now, and find Carvio before it's too late!" Merick drew Dawn from its sheath and gripped it in his hands tightly.
Merick began to catch his breath in steady intervals, but struggled to speak. "There's no time to explain Princess, we need to get you on a ship or horseback for Dorne. I need you to trust me Princess." His look turned to Madge's concerned expression. "Madge, I need you to pack her essentials. I'll take care of the rest once we arrive at Dorne. But there's no time to wait." The disgruntled knights lungs were at a normal pace now as he began to calm down. But this calmness quickly ended as he heard shouts a floor below them. "GET THE PRINCESS! GET THE PRINCESS NOW YOU DOGS!"
Merick stared deeply into Aeranys' eyes. "Princess, we've ran out of time. I've already made preparations for three possible escorts, two of which have not been compromised. You're to exit the Red Keep immediately. Madge, take her to the port where you'll find a man name Carvio. He's been paid a handsome fee to sail her to the Stormlands at lea-" Multiple heavy footsteps began to collide against the stairs as they neared closer to Aeranys' chamber. Merick turned around and walked out into the hallway. "Go now, and find Carvio before it's too late!" Merick drew Dawn from its sheath and gripped it in his hands tightly.
clockwork girl
memento mori
“Please, what’s going on?” Aeranys protested, fearing for the safety of the others. But then a thundering shout came from the floor beneath them.
"GET THE PRINCESS! GET THE PRINCESS NOW YOU DOGS!"
Madge let out a gasp at the shouts, but at the words of the knight, nodded and hurried into the room to pack. Aeranys thoughts went to her mother, but as the knight stepped towards the stairs, unsheathing his sword, she knew there wouldn’t be much time.
She raced into her room and struggled out of the dress, pretty as it was, and began to throw on the mess clothes she wore for archery instead. It seemed that they would be running, and a dainty dress would slow her down. She had barely tugged on her boots when Madge came up to her with a fat pack, filled to the brim with items. “Milady, I have a change of clothes and your valuables here,” Madge puffed. Aeranys could hear the faint clink of jewelry inside and immediately upended the bag, hastily separating the ones that would be too large or too heavy to take with her. Instead, the princess rushed to her writing desk, stuffing Aeron’s precious cyvasse board into the bag. It was her keepsake of her dead brother, a memento of the fond times they had spent together. She would’ve left all of her jewelry and fineries behind, but she could not leave behind this.
Last of all, she grabbed her bow and her quiver of arrows, finding comfort in the familiar feeling of the bound wood in her fingers. “We should hurry, princess!” Madge squawked, and they fled the room, taking a passage hidden from common knowledge. It was dark and she nearly slipped as they rushed down the stairs, but before long they had neared the exit. Aeranys suddenly came to a halt, as if her body would not move any further. She had not been able to say goodbye to anyone. This could be the last time she might see any of them, especially now that she was leaving in the middle of a dangerous turmoil. She didn’t know what had befallen them, and now it was plain she was escaping. What of her mother? Was she in danger?
“Come now, milady, we don’t have time!” Madge urged frantically. Taking a shuddering breath, the young woman felt her nails grind into the flesh of her palm. She had to go. What use would she be to her family if she could not even get to Dorne and make the alliance that might save House Targaryen?
Swallowing hard, she shoved open the door, greeted by the darkness of the evening. The two women fled through the winding, twisting streets of King’s Landing, headed for the port as Ser Yyronwoord had instructed them. Aeranys could not tell if they were being chased or hunted, but with each strange noise the grip on her bow tightened.
Suddenly she saw a torch in the darkness, and a man was looking straight at her, sword unsheathed. “I found ‘er!” he yelled, and not far away she could hear answering shouts.
“Run, milady!” her plump companion cried, even as she shook violently from head to toe.
“You’re not going anywhere, princess,” the man scoffed, advancing towards them. Her hands moved as if of their own accord, like she had practiced so many times. Her bow sang out and a moment later the man collapsed, an arrow in his eye socket.
“O…Oh,” she made a soft little noise of half wonder and half horror. Never had she harmed a living creature. She had never even hunted—and here she had… But the sound of footsteps was close enough for her to come out of her trance and she broke into a run, grasping Madge’s hand to tug her along. The ports were right ahead of them.
"GET THE PRINCESS! GET THE PRINCESS NOW YOU DOGS!"
Madge let out a gasp at the shouts, but at the words of the knight, nodded and hurried into the room to pack. Aeranys thoughts went to her mother, but as the knight stepped towards the stairs, unsheathing his sword, she knew there wouldn’t be much time.
She raced into her room and struggled out of the dress, pretty as it was, and began to throw on the mess clothes she wore for archery instead. It seemed that they would be running, and a dainty dress would slow her down. She had barely tugged on her boots when Madge came up to her with a fat pack, filled to the brim with items. “Milady, I have a change of clothes and your valuables here,” Madge puffed. Aeranys could hear the faint clink of jewelry inside and immediately upended the bag, hastily separating the ones that would be too large or too heavy to take with her. Instead, the princess rushed to her writing desk, stuffing Aeron’s precious cyvasse board into the bag. It was her keepsake of her dead brother, a memento of the fond times they had spent together. She would’ve left all of her jewelry and fineries behind, but she could not leave behind this.
Last of all, she grabbed her bow and her quiver of arrows, finding comfort in the familiar feeling of the bound wood in her fingers. “We should hurry, princess!” Madge squawked, and they fled the room, taking a passage hidden from common knowledge. It was dark and she nearly slipped as they rushed down the stairs, but before long they had neared the exit. Aeranys suddenly came to a halt, as if her body would not move any further. She had not been able to say goodbye to anyone. This could be the last time she might see any of them, especially now that she was leaving in the middle of a dangerous turmoil. She didn’t know what had befallen them, and now it was plain she was escaping. What of her mother? Was she in danger?
“Come now, milady, we don’t have time!” Madge urged frantically. Taking a shuddering breath, the young woman felt her nails grind into the flesh of her palm. She had to go. What use would she be to her family if she could not even get to Dorne and make the alliance that might save House Targaryen?
Swallowing hard, she shoved open the door, greeted by the darkness of the evening. The two women fled through the winding, twisting streets of King’s Landing, headed for the port as Ser Yyronwoord had instructed them. Aeranys could not tell if they were being chased or hunted, but with each strange noise the grip on her bow tightened.
Suddenly she saw a torch in the darkness, and a man was looking straight at her, sword unsheathed. “I found ‘er!” he yelled, and not far away she could hear answering shouts.
“Run, milady!” her plump companion cried, even as she shook violently from head to toe.
“You’re not going anywhere, princess,” the man scoffed, advancing towards them. Her hands moved as if of their own accord, like she had practiced so many times. Her bow sang out and a moment later the man collapsed, an arrow in his eye socket.
“O…Oh,” she made a soft little noise of half wonder and half horror. Never had she harmed a living creature. She had never even hunted—and here she had… But the sound of footsteps was close enough for her to come out of her trance and she broke into a run, grasping Madge’s hand to tug her along. The ports were right ahead of them.
Mousie
Lurking Snapdragon
Merick Yyronwood
Although Merick was outnumbered six to one, the cramped hallway provided him the edge he needed to both hold off and overwhelm his enemies. With the sword Dawn, this advantage was cemented even further. As Dawn plunged into the flesh of one of the unrecognized captors with boiled leather armor, Merick pulled it out as quick as he could as he begin to trail the princess. His only objective was to keep her safe. It's his duty. Merick ran faster than he had before, but this time he had adrenaline to assist him. A true burst of energy that would carry him to the ship where the princess may or may not be. A ship that could take off without him. He had to hasten himself.
Merick took a shortcut through the streets and alleyways. He was only five blocks away from the port when he heard a frightening cry in the sound of night. "I found 'er!" Merick noticed three men ahead of him that ran faster than he did due to their light armor. He continued his furious pace towards the cry-out before stopping again to see the alleyway cut off. The men had went the wrong way, as did Merick. He wasn't used to this side of Kings Landing. Merick unsheathed the greatsword once again, and prepared himself in a stance ready for combat. The three men that were pursuing the princess quickly spotted Merick. "Would you look at that fancy armor for a fancy I'm uncultured? And what a nice fook'n sword, eh?" One of the masked captors muffled out. Merick didn't know their purpose entirely, other than their intention to kidnap the princess. He was tipped off less than twenty minutes ago by the spymaster.
One of the men began to foolishly charge at Merick, as they all realized they were running out of time to catch up to the princess. Merick turned his charge against his as he parried his two swings into a clean cut across the throat. The man who called out to him already covered half the distance of the man Merick just killed. Their swords collided against each other. Again and again they were swung upon each other until Merick successfully parried him off balance. Before Merick executed him, the third captor screamed out a sudden warning before slashing his bastard sword at Merick. Barely blocking it, Merick was already overwhelmed with the youthful mans blunt force. He continued on this onslaught of relentless attacks before he tired himself out. Merick easily overwhelmed him, slashing through his leather with dawn like a hot knife cutting through butter.
As Merick finished this, he noticed the masked man that insulted him had disappeared. He turned around and headed towards the docks, with thoughts racing against him in his mind that he missed his ship. He needed to hurry and catch it with Aeranys. She would be vulnerable without him! His running slowly turned into a slow job as he neared the ports. The armor weighed heavy on his shoulders as did his lungs in his chest. He wasn't as young as he used to be. As he neared the docks, he noticed a corpse with a peculiar looking arrow stuck in the eye. It was a practice arrow that normally wouldn't have killed anyone, but this one did. It appeared as if it penetrated his eye socket which in turn killed him instantly. After briefly turning his head studying it while jogging towards the port, he wondered if it could've been...
Although it was night time, he could still see the dimly lit port with the long sails from different shaped ships lined across the docks. And to his relief, he saw the ship that would've contained Aeranys if she made it. That's the only thing he could hope for at this point now. That she made it.
Although Merick was outnumbered six to one, the cramped hallway provided him the edge he needed to both hold off and overwhelm his enemies. With the sword Dawn, this advantage was cemented even further. As Dawn plunged into the flesh of one of the unrecognized captors with boiled leather armor, Merick pulled it out as quick as he could as he begin to trail the princess. His only objective was to keep her safe. It's his duty. Merick ran faster than he had before, but this time he had adrenaline to assist him. A true burst of energy that would carry him to the ship where the princess may or may not be. A ship that could take off without him. He had to hasten himself.
Merick took a shortcut through the streets and alleyways. He was only five blocks away from the port when he heard a frightening cry in the sound of night. "I found 'er!" Merick noticed three men ahead of him that ran faster than he did due to their light armor. He continued his furious pace towards the cry-out before stopping again to see the alleyway cut off. The men had went the wrong way, as did Merick. He wasn't used to this side of Kings Landing. Merick unsheathed the greatsword once again, and prepared himself in a stance ready for combat. The three men that were pursuing the princess quickly spotted Merick. "Would you look at that fancy armor for a fancy I'm uncultured? And what a nice fook'n sword, eh?" One of the masked captors muffled out. Merick didn't know their purpose entirely, other than their intention to kidnap the princess. He was tipped off less than twenty minutes ago by the spymaster.
One of the men began to foolishly charge at Merick, as they all realized they were running out of time to catch up to the princess. Merick turned his charge against his as he parried his two swings into a clean cut across the throat. The man who called out to him already covered half the distance of the man Merick just killed. Their swords collided against each other. Again and again they were swung upon each other until Merick successfully parried him off balance. Before Merick executed him, the third captor screamed out a sudden warning before slashing his bastard sword at Merick. Barely blocking it, Merick was already overwhelmed with the youthful mans blunt force. He continued on this onslaught of relentless attacks before he tired himself out. Merick easily overwhelmed him, slashing through his leather with dawn like a hot knife cutting through butter.
As Merick finished this, he noticed the masked man that insulted him had disappeared. He turned around and headed towards the docks, with thoughts racing against him in his mind that he missed his ship. He needed to hurry and catch it with Aeranys. She would be vulnerable without him! His running slowly turned into a slow job as he neared the ports. The armor weighed heavy on his shoulders as did his lungs in his chest. He wasn't as young as he used to be. As he neared the docks, he noticed a corpse with a peculiar looking arrow stuck in the eye. It was a practice arrow that normally wouldn't have killed anyone, but this one did. It appeared as if it penetrated his eye socket which in turn killed him instantly. After briefly turning his head studying it while jogging towards the port, he wondered if it could've been...
Although it was night time, he could still see the dimly lit port with the long sails from different shaped ships lined across the docks. And to his relief, he saw the ship that would've contained Aeranys if she made it. That's the only thing he could hope for at this point now. That she made it.
clockwork girl
memento mori
As they raced into the port, she saw a man looking about restlessly in front of a sizable ship. “A-Are you,” she gasped out, breathing hard from running the whole way without stopping, “Are you…Carvio?” she managed, and the man nodded, offering her a quick bow.
“I’ve been waiting, m’lady,” the man said, urging her onto the ship. She walked up the boarding plank, but stopped short. “…Madge?” she uttered suddenly, turning to look at the older woman.
“Yes, princess?” the woman puffed, still trying to catch her breath.
“Will you return to the Keep?” she asked fearfully, not knowing what to expect as a response.
“B-But milady!” the woman spluttered, going red. “It would be most improper for you to travel with only men! And you would need a lady-in-waiting!”
“I know, I know,” she responded, placing an affectionate hand on the lady’s shoulder. “But…please. I need to know mother will be taken care of by someone I trust. I need her to know what happened, and that I’m truly safe. Otherwise, she will worry—you know that, don’t you Madge?”
The older woman opened her mouth to argue, but she found that there wasn’t much to argue back against the princess’s plea. She let out a hefty sigh, looking up at the young woman sorrowfully. “How could I deny your wishes, dear princess?”
Aeranys offered her a shaky smile. She had been planning on asking Madge to look after her mother, even if things had not gone awry. The queen trusted the plump lady, and though she would hardly be any protection against the things that would want to harm her, Aeranys knew that Madge would be of great emotional support for her mother. “I could only ask you, Madge. No one else.” She embraced the short woman tightly, feeling her insides clench. Many would have wept, and there were tears misting Madge’s eyes, but there were none in the princess’s. “I will miss you dearly, Madge.”
“And I you, milady,” the lady said tearfully, squeezing her hand. “I swear I will never part from your mother’s side.”
“Thank you. Tell her…I love her. I will write, I promise.” The fair haired princess nodded at the woman, and then turned to Carvio. “Would you please send a crew member as an escort back to the Red Keep?” she asked. It would not do well to send Madge back alone.
“Well…” the man muttered, looking reluctant.
Digging through her pack, she produced a ruby ring. “Please, good ser,” she told him evenly, pressing the ring into his hand. The seafarer’s eyebrows rose, and he nodded.
“She will be escorted safely, then.” he assured her, and turned to signal at one of the deckhands. Meanwhile, Aeranys spotted a figure running up to the ship.
“Is that--?” she wondered aloud, and felt a wave of relief as she recognized it as Ser Yyronwood. He did not look injured, thankfully.
“I’ve been waiting, m’lady,” the man said, urging her onto the ship. She walked up the boarding plank, but stopped short. “…Madge?” she uttered suddenly, turning to look at the older woman.
“Yes, princess?” the woman puffed, still trying to catch her breath.
“Will you return to the Keep?” she asked fearfully, not knowing what to expect as a response.
“B-But milady!” the woman spluttered, going red. “It would be most improper for you to travel with only men! And you would need a lady-in-waiting!”
“I know, I know,” she responded, placing an affectionate hand on the lady’s shoulder. “But…please. I need to know mother will be taken care of by someone I trust. I need her to know what happened, and that I’m truly safe. Otherwise, she will worry—you know that, don’t you Madge?”
The older woman opened her mouth to argue, but she found that there wasn’t much to argue back against the princess’s plea. She let out a hefty sigh, looking up at the young woman sorrowfully. “How could I deny your wishes, dear princess?”
Aeranys offered her a shaky smile. She had been planning on asking Madge to look after her mother, even if things had not gone awry. The queen trusted the plump lady, and though she would hardly be any protection against the things that would want to harm her, Aeranys knew that Madge would be of great emotional support for her mother. “I could only ask you, Madge. No one else.” She embraced the short woman tightly, feeling her insides clench. Many would have wept, and there were tears misting Madge’s eyes, but there were none in the princess’s. “I will miss you dearly, Madge.”
“And I you, milady,” the lady said tearfully, squeezing her hand. “I swear I will never part from your mother’s side.”
“Thank you. Tell her…I love her. I will write, I promise.” The fair haired princess nodded at the woman, and then turned to Carvio. “Would you please send a crew member as an escort back to the Red Keep?” she asked. It would not do well to send Madge back alone.
“Well…” the man muttered, looking reluctant.
Digging through her pack, she produced a ruby ring. “Please, good ser,” she told him evenly, pressing the ring into his hand. The seafarer’s eyebrows rose, and he nodded.
“She will be escorted safely, then.” he assured her, and turned to signal at one of the deckhands. Meanwhile, Aeranys spotted a figure running up to the ship.
“Is that--?” she wondered aloud, and felt a wave of relief as she recognized it as Ser Yyronwood. He did not look injured, thankfully.
Mousie
Lurking Snapdragon
Merick Yyronwood
Merick already saw the barter being made ahead of him. He already knew how protective the princess was to the people she knew. Although he was winded from all the fighting, he managed to call out in a harsh if not loud voice, "Carvio, this trips already been paid for. I ask that you return that jewelry to the princess at once." While pacing himself steadily towards the ship, he got a better glance at the princess. "I'm sorry I couldn't catch up sooner princess, but we have no time left. We need to set sail for Dorne immediately." Merick noticed Madge walking away from the ship. "Where do you think you're going at a time like this Madge? We could use all the help we can get getting to Dorne." Madge gave him the same look as before. It was a look of concern. "Princess Aeranys has requested me to return to The Red Keep to look after her mother." A man followed Madge off the ship now.
"Merick, Merick, Merick! Come now, don't be so cheap with me. Normally I wouldn't be harboring a royal princess across the Stepstones, but the amount of gold you gave and promised was too irresistible. Besides, my ship is going to your home of Yronwood so leave the ring with me as a form of... Guarantee that you'll pay the rest you owe me." Carvio negotiated with a smirk across his face. Merick exchanged a dirty look to him, then a look of complete relief. "Princess, I apologize that I haven't been able to explain to you what happened. Carvio I suggest you set sail immediately." Carvio's smirk turned into a small frown now. "Don't think any knight can boss me around on my ship. And girl, if you think about stealing any of my cargo just because you gave me that ring..." Merick placed his hand on the hilt of Dawn. "Don't go there Carvio. Remember why you're doing this for us. Gold." Carvio's frown quickly turned into a small smirk again at the sound of the word. "That's right my friend, and please do remind me along the way. I'm not entirely used to seeing people of your... Customs." Carvio spoke out in a cheery tune.
"Princess, I've negotiated that you have a private cabin." Merick pointed towards the captains quarters. "You just remember what I told you about stealing from me, girl. Don't do it." Merick wanted to defend Aeranys' honor, but he was so exhausted that he was on the brink of passing out. Merick turned around and saw that Madge had disappeared into the dark city that was dimly lit. This would be the last time he would see Kings Landing for a long time. How fortunate. "I'll escort you to your room, Princess." Merick instructed as crew members began to open the sails.
Merick already saw the barter being made ahead of him. He already knew how protective the princess was to the people she knew. Although he was winded from all the fighting, he managed to call out in a harsh if not loud voice, "Carvio, this trips already been paid for. I ask that you return that jewelry to the princess at once." While pacing himself steadily towards the ship, he got a better glance at the princess. "I'm sorry I couldn't catch up sooner princess, but we have no time left. We need to set sail for Dorne immediately." Merick noticed Madge walking away from the ship. "Where do you think you're going at a time like this Madge? We could use all the help we can get getting to Dorne." Madge gave him the same look as before. It was a look of concern. "Princess Aeranys has requested me to return to The Red Keep to look after her mother." A man followed Madge off the ship now.
"Merick, Merick, Merick! Come now, don't be so cheap with me. Normally I wouldn't be harboring a royal princess across the Stepstones, but the amount of gold you gave and promised was too irresistible. Besides, my ship is going to your home of Yronwood so leave the ring with me as a form of... Guarantee that you'll pay the rest you owe me." Carvio negotiated with a smirk across his face. Merick exchanged a dirty look to him, then a look of complete relief. "Princess, I apologize that I haven't been able to explain to you what happened. Carvio I suggest you set sail immediately." Carvio's smirk turned into a small frown now. "Don't think any knight can boss me around on my ship. And girl, if you think about stealing any of my cargo just because you gave me that ring..." Merick placed his hand on the hilt of Dawn. "Don't go there Carvio. Remember why you're doing this for us. Gold." Carvio's frown quickly turned into a small smirk again at the sound of the word. "That's right my friend, and please do remind me along the way. I'm not entirely used to seeing people of your... Customs." Carvio spoke out in a cheery tune.
"Princess, I've negotiated that you have a private cabin." Merick pointed towards the captains quarters. "You just remember what I told you about stealing from me, girl. Don't do it." Merick wanted to defend Aeranys' honor, but he was so exhausted that he was on the brink of passing out. Merick turned around and saw that Madge had disappeared into the dark city that was dimly lit. This would be the last time he would see Kings Landing for a long time. How fortunate. "I'll escort you to your room, Princess." Merick instructed as crew members began to open the sails.
clockwork girl
memento mori
"It's quite alright, Ser Yyronwood," Aeranys attempted to calm the situation down, especially since Madge's safe transport depended on the ring. "I don't mind." She had brought some jewelry with her for more than just one reason, after all. It seemed he understood as Madge explained her reason for departure, a concern frown furrowing her brow. The princess gave the lady an encouraging smile, urging her on. Only when the plump woman turned away did her smile wobble a fraction. She was truly leaving behind her old lifestyle, and the people with it, it seemed.
Aeranys did not fail to notice that this Carvio did not refrain from antagonizing the knight. It seemed that they were travelling with unsavory people, although that could have been expected. She was being smuggled out of King's Landing! "No, it's fine," she reassured Ser Merick, though the question of her sudden escape was a large one. "There will be plenty of time for explanations on our journey, no doubt." She carefully assessed the captain as he began to threaten her, only to be warned by the knight. She gathered he was not from the vicinity--perhaps he hailed from Dorne? Either way, it seemed that he and Ser Yyronwood were somewhat acquainted--though obviously not on the best of terms.
"Oh, thank you, Ser Yyronwood," the princess thanked the knight as he mentioned that he had secured her a private cabin. Now that the adrenaline was slowly beginning to wear off, the fatigue was edging up on her slowly. "And you have nothing to fear for, Ser Carvio," she answered the captain graciously, not at all fazed by his rude threats. Court had a way of making one a bit immune to insults, whether they were subtle or blatant. "I was not raised a thief." The captain scowled in response, stalking away, and the knight suggested that he would escort her to her quarters. He looked exhausted, the poor man.
"I'm sorry, might I stay on deck for a little longer?" she asked apologetically. "Just a little longer, please." The ship slowly began to pull away from the dock as the deckhands scrambled this way and that, but the sounds didn't reach her as she looked out longingly at the lights far away that made out the looming shape of her home. When would she lay her eyes on it again? The keep she'd grown up in--laughed in, played, cried in, mourned in--the place that held so many memories... She hugged the pack to her chest, feeling the edge of the cyvasse board press against her. She was truly leaving home. Aeranys swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling small and lonely. Nevertheless, when she turned to the knight she was as composed as she always was in public. "Please, lead the way," she gestured, clutching onto her pack and bow as if they were the only things keeping her grounded. "I am sure you wish to retire as well."
Aeranys did not fail to notice that this Carvio did not refrain from antagonizing the knight. It seemed that they were travelling with unsavory people, although that could have been expected. She was being smuggled out of King's Landing! "No, it's fine," she reassured Ser Merick, though the question of her sudden escape was a large one. "There will be plenty of time for explanations on our journey, no doubt." She carefully assessed the captain as he began to threaten her, only to be warned by the knight. She gathered he was not from the vicinity--perhaps he hailed from Dorne? Either way, it seemed that he and Ser Yyronwood were somewhat acquainted--though obviously not on the best of terms.
"Oh, thank you, Ser Yyronwood," the princess thanked the knight as he mentioned that he had secured her a private cabin. Now that the adrenaline was slowly beginning to wear off, the fatigue was edging up on her slowly. "And you have nothing to fear for, Ser Carvio," she answered the captain graciously, not at all fazed by his rude threats. Court had a way of making one a bit immune to insults, whether they were subtle or blatant. "I was not raised a thief." The captain scowled in response, stalking away, and the knight suggested that he would escort her to her quarters. He looked exhausted, the poor man.
"I'm sorry, might I stay on deck for a little longer?" she asked apologetically. "Just a little longer, please." The ship slowly began to pull away from the dock as the deckhands scrambled this way and that, but the sounds didn't reach her as she looked out longingly at the lights far away that made out the looming shape of her home. When would she lay her eyes on it again? The keep she'd grown up in--laughed in, played, cried in, mourned in--the place that held so many memories... She hugged the pack to her chest, feeling the edge of the cyvasse board press against her. She was truly leaving home. Aeranys swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling small and lonely. Nevertheless, when she turned to the knight she was as composed as she always was in public. "Please, lead the way," she gestured, clutching onto her pack and bow as if they were the only things keeping her grounded. "I am sure you wish to retire as well."
Mousie
Lurking Snapdragon
Merick Yyronwood
"If it please you, princess, you may call me Ser Merick." The weary knight asked in a normal voice. Merick kept his eyes on the greedy Carvio as he walked away to command the ship. Merick felt warm blood drizzling downwards under his armpit. There was a small gap between the finely made armor where a sword had met his flesh. Merick never realized it until now due to the adrenaline that was pumping through his system that faded away. He hid his wound under his cloak and attended to the princess. Hearing the princess' request, Merick saw the same look she'd given him everytime he laid eyes upon her each morning he guarded her door. "Of course, Princess. I'll remain by the cabin for now, but anytime you wish to rest in your quarters, don't hesitate."
The gold-armored knight remained vigilant in his duties and fought off his fatigue while he watched the princess from the deck under her. The view of Kings Landing grew more and more faded as time went on, until it became nothing more than a small splotch of light on the horizon, It was a cloudless night with many stars shining their light above them. Merick eventually rested his eyes for a moment, almost passing out from the steady rowing, before the princess requested she wanted to be escorted to her chambers. "Of course, Princess Aeranys." Merick opened the cabin door to reveal a room filled with a small bunk laced with valuable silks from the free cities. The wood inside the cabin had a fine finish that felt as smooth as a silk pillow. As Aeranys entered the room, Merick finally noticed the practice bow laced across her back. His eyes widened for a moment before she said, "I am sure you wish to retire as well."
"Maybe that's a good idea, princess. But if you need anything, and I do mean anything, don't be afraid to find me out on the deck." Merick responded gently. He enjoyed watching her explore her surroundings with a fascinated look in her eyes. It was going to be a few days before they make their way to Yronwood, and Merick needed to be prepared to help fend the ship off against the pirates off the Stepstones. The ship they boarded was a simple merchant ship made to transport many silks from the free cities to Dorne. The captain was a merchants son from whom his house was acquainted with. No matter what happened, Merick always reminded himself: He must protect the princess at all costs.
"If it please you, princess, you may call me Ser Merick." The weary knight asked in a normal voice. Merick kept his eyes on the greedy Carvio as he walked away to command the ship. Merick felt warm blood drizzling downwards under his armpit. There was a small gap between the finely made armor where a sword had met his flesh. Merick never realized it until now due to the adrenaline that was pumping through his system that faded away. He hid his wound under his cloak and attended to the princess. Hearing the princess' request, Merick saw the same look she'd given him everytime he laid eyes upon her each morning he guarded her door. "Of course, Princess. I'll remain by the cabin for now, but anytime you wish to rest in your quarters, don't hesitate."
The gold-armored knight remained vigilant in his duties and fought off his fatigue while he watched the princess from the deck under her. The view of Kings Landing grew more and more faded as time went on, until it became nothing more than a small splotch of light on the horizon, It was a cloudless night with many stars shining their light above them. Merick eventually rested his eyes for a moment, almost passing out from the steady rowing, before the princess requested she wanted to be escorted to her chambers. "Of course, Princess Aeranys." Merick opened the cabin door to reveal a room filled with a small bunk laced with valuable silks from the free cities. The wood inside the cabin had a fine finish that felt as smooth as a silk pillow. As Aeranys entered the room, Merick finally noticed the practice bow laced across her back. His eyes widened for a moment before she said, "I am sure you wish to retire as well."
"Maybe that's a good idea, princess. But if you need anything, and I do mean anything, don't be afraid to find me out on the deck." Merick responded gently. He enjoyed watching her explore her surroundings with a fascinated look in her eyes. It was going to be a few days before they make their way to Yronwood, and Merick needed to be prepared to help fend the ship off against the pirates off the Stepstones. The ship they boarded was a simple merchant ship made to transport many silks from the free cities to Dorne. The captain was a merchants son from whom his house was acquainted with. No matter what happened, Merick always reminded himself: He must protect the princess at all costs.
clockwork girl
memento mori
Upon entering the cabin, she understood why the captain had been so touchy on the subject of his cargo. The cabin was filled with stacks and rolls of beautiful cloth of top quality, silks and the like. It reminded her of the bolts of cloth that Madge had brought to her only that morning. So they were on a merchant’s ship, it seemed. It was better than being on an actual smuggler’s ship, she thought to herself.
“Yes, of course. I rely on you with gratitude,” she smiled, gesturing so that he knew he could leave freely. “A restful evening to you.” He was surely more tired than he was letting on, just as she was--all these pretenses and layers of white lies for their duties. “And Ser Merick?” she added, waiting for him to turn before speaking again. “Please find a medic for that injury,” she said softly. Perhaps he had meant to hide it, but the cloak of the Kingsguard was white, after all.
After the knight had left, she slowly unslung the bow from her back, feeling reluctant to put it away. She couldn’t help but hear the dull wet noise that had accompanied the arrow into that man’s eye socket. It was a horrible feeling knowing that she had taken a life, but it was comforting to remember what might have befallen on her or Madge if she had not acted. After all, they might have taken her alive, but a mere chambermaid did not have much value to abductors. She turned the bow over in her hands, remembering how Aeron had teased her for refusing to hunt.
“What’s the point of knowing how to shoot if you won’t even use it?” he chuckled, moving his elephant piece on the cyvasse board.
“I couldn’t kill an animal. Not for sport,” she argued back, kicking his foot under the table for teasing her.
“So you would for food? My dear sister, biting into a freshly killed rabbit, fur and all—I’d love to see that,” he grinned, giving her little reprieve.
“Keep it up and maybe I’ll use you for target practice,” she smiled back slyly, mirroring her brother’s grin. “Run, rabbit, run!” She sang mockingly, moving her dragon piece to threaten his elephant piece.
“Oh, so you’d take a human life over an animal’s,” he gasped with mock severity. “By the Seven, my sister is more devious than I had thought previously.” He swiftly countered, using a catapult to remove her dragon piece.
“Well, animals act on pure instinct. You could say they’re innocent as babes. But humans?” she seized her brother’s king piece with her crossbowman piece, raising her brows mischievously. “Capable of premeditated malice, I daresay.” They both laughed, even though Aeron had lost the game. There was always another round to be played.
A bittersweet memory, Aeranys thought as she smiled sadly to herself. She placed her archery set aside, next to her bed. She dug through her pack until she found the black king piece and grasped it tight. She had failed to make room for a nightshift, so it seemed she would be sleeping in the mess clothes—though she would have felt terribly exposed in a nightshift alone in an unfamiliar place anyways. She crawled into the bed, her fingers fiddling with the king piece that had always been Aeron’s designated color. It would have been a severe understatement to say that she missed him. Without him or Rhaegar, she did not have anyone to be herself with. Not truly. She could not joke or tease or laugh loudly without a care. Without them, she was just the dutiful princess. The young woman let out a sigh, which she only could do in solitude, and tucked the piece under the pillow. Closing her eyes, she let fatigue overtake her, knowing there would be much to endure in the coming days.
“Yes, of course. I rely on you with gratitude,” she smiled, gesturing so that he knew he could leave freely. “A restful evening to you.” He was surely more tired than he was letting on, just as she was--all these pretenses and layers of white lies for their duties. “And Ser Merick?” she added, waiting for him to turn before speaking again. “Please find a medic for that injury,” she said softly. Perhaps he had meant to hide it, but the cloak of the Kingsguard was white, after all.
After the knight had left, she slowly unslung the bow from her back, feeling reluctant to put it away. She couldn’t help but hear the dull wet noise that had accompanied the arrow into that man’s eye socket. It was a horrible feeling knowing that she had taken a life, but it was comforting to remember what might have befallen on her or Madge if she had not acted. After all, they might have taken her alive, but a mere chambermaid did not have much value to abductors. She turned the bow over in her hands, remembering how Aeron had teased her for refusing to hunt.
“What’s the point of knowing how to shoot if you won’t even use it?” he chuckled, moving his elephant piece on the cyvasse board.
“I couldn’t kill an animal. Not for sport,” she argued back, kicking his foot under the table for teasing her.
“So you would for food? My dear sister, biting into a freshly killed rabbit, fur and all—I’d love to see that,” he grinned, giving her little reprieve.
“Keep it up and maybe I’ll use you for target practice,” she smiled back slyly, mirroring her brother’s grin. “Run, rabbit, run!” She sang mockingly, moving her dragon piece to threaten his elephant piece.
“Oh, so you’d take a human life over an animal’s,” he gasped with mock severity. “By the Seven, my sister is more devious than I had thought previously.” He swiftly countered, using a catapult to remove her dragon piece.
“Well, animals act on pure instinct. You could say they’re innocent as babes. But humans?” she seized her brother’s king piece with her crossbowman piece, raising her brows mischievously. “Capable of premeditated malice, I daresay.” They both laughed, even though Aeron had lost the game. There was always another round to be played.
A bittersweet memory, Aeranys thought as she smiled sadly to herself. She placed her archery set aside, next to her bed. She dug through her pack until she found the black king piece and grasped it tight. She had failed to make room for a nightshift, so it seemed she would be sleeping in the mess clothes—though she would have felt terribly exposed in a nightshift alone in an unfamiliar place anyways. She crawled into the bed, her fingers fiddling with the king piece that had always been Aeron’s designated color. It would have been a severe understatement to say that she missed him. Without him or Rhaegar, she did not have anyone to be herself with. Not truly. She could not joke or tease or laugh loudly without a care. Without them, she was just the dutiful princess. The young woman let out a sigh, which she only could do in solitude, and tucked the piece under the pillow. Closing her eyes, she let fatigue overtake her, knowing there would be much to endure in the coming days.
Mousie
Lurking Snapdragon
Merick Yyronwood
Merick met his faithless old companion, Carvio at the top of the deck. "We won't be able to fully cleanse that wound until we dock at your home at Yronwood, Merick." Gasped out Carvio. He let out a little sight before continuing. "Merick, although I agreed to harbor this Princess from Westeros, I think it's a dire plan that's failure is at hand. I ask that you consider leaving your cloak and leave with me to the Free Cities. I can make you a rich man, friend." Merick grunted for a few moments, holding onto his wound as best as he can. "Listen Merick, she'd go for ten fortunes to a man I know in Pentos. Seven Hells, even Lys or Tyrosh would be a grand sum for her, my friend! And you'd get a cu-" Before Carvio could finish, Merick unsheathed Dawn.
"The deal still remains the same, Carvio. This isn't a bargain, and this isn't an empty threat. This is a warning to you, dear friend. If you dare try to harm the princess in any way, I will cut off your head." Carvio's eyes grew smaller and more fearful. "Of course my friend, this was just an offer in ca-" Merick cut his speech off again. "Stop it, Carvio. You owe a great debt to me and my family, and this is how you repay it. Besides that, I've already paid you a small fortune. This conversation is over." Carvio's eyes widened again as he grew a small smirk. But there was still fear in his eyes. "Of course, of course. In a few days time, we'll get you to your home and you'll consider my debt to your house paid. This was the original plan after all, my friend! Now forget what I said about that wound, I think I can clean it."
The ship continued to sail onwards to its next destination. Five hours had passed since Aeranys had went to her cabin, and the climate around them seemed to be getting a lot warmer. Two mercenaries dawned in leather armor approached the door to Aeranys' cabin. Merick was nowhere to be seen near the cabin, and the two men had their hands on the hilts of their blades. "Now, I don't want you to kill her. We need her alive." Coughed out a familiar voice. "Why didn't you kill that knight?" Another voice called out, but was slightly muffled from the door. "Like I said, I owe his family a debt. Just get the girl, and I'll take care of the rest." The two mercenaries began to knock rapidly against the door, hitting harder and harder. "Wake up, girl. We needs to talk to you. The Knight needs your help, eh?"
Merick met his faithless old companion, Carvio at the top of the deck. "We won't be able to fully cleanse that wound until we dock at your home at Yronwood, Merick." Gasped out Carvio. He let out a little sight before continuing. "Merick, although I agreed to harbor this Princess from Westeros, I think it's a dire plan that's failure is at hand. I ask that you consider leaving your cloak and leave with me to the Free Cities. I can make you a rich man, friend." Merick grunted for a few moments, holding onto his wound as best as he can. "Listen Merick, she'd go for ten fortunes to a man I know in Pentos. Seven Hells, even Lys or Tyrosh would be a grand sum for her, my friend! And you'd get a cu-" Before Carvio could finish, Merick unsheathed Dawn.
"The deal still remains the same, Carvio. This isn't a bargain, and this isn't an empty threat. This is a warning to you, dear friend. If you dare try to harm the princess in any way, I will cut off your head." Carvio's eyes grew smaller and more fearful. "Of course my friend, this was just an offer in ca-" Merick cut his speech off again. "Stop it, Carvio. You owe a great debt to me and my family, and this is how you repay it. Besides that, I've already paid you a small fortune. This conversation is over." Carvio's eyes widened again as he grew a small smirk. But there was still fear in his eyes. "Of course, of course. In a few days time, we'll get you to your home and you'll consider my debt to your house paid. This was the original plan after all, my friend! Now forget what I said about that wound, I think I can clean it."
The ship continued to sail onwards to its next destination. Five hours had passed since Aeranys had went to her cabin, and the climate around them seemed to be getting a lot warmer. Two mercenaries dawned in leather armor approached the door to Aeranys' cabin. Merick was nowhere to be seen near the cabin, and the two men had their hands on the hilts of their blades. "Now, I don't want you to kill her. We need her alive." Coughed out a familiar voice. "Why didn't you kill that knight?" Another voice called out, but was slightly muffled from the door. "Like I said, I owe his family a debt. Just get the girl, and I'll take care of the rest." The two mercenaries began to knock rapidly against the door, hitting harder and harder. "Wake up, girl. We needs to talk to you. The Knight needs your help, eh?"
clockwork girl
memento mori
She had barely managed to fall into a fitful sleep when voices woke her. She blearily opened her eyes, feeling her exhausted body protest feebly. “…the girl, and I’ll…care of th…rest…” a muffled voice sounded, and she frowned vaguely, wondering if her sleepiness was playing tricks on her. And then suddenly they were banging on the door, jolting her out of any remaining traces of slumber. The fair haired girl sat up, alarmed as the knocks turned louder and harder—they were saying…the Knight needed her help? Ser Merick? Stumbling out of the bed, her mind raced. Had the injury she had seen on him been more severe than she had assumed?
Forgetting that she should have been suspicious in her concern, she rushed to the door, stumbling a little in her foggy mind. The princess yanked the door open, lilac eyes wide and worried. “Yes? Is Ser Merick—“ she trailed off, her gaze falling on the men that had woken her up. One of them was the captain of the ship himself, but something about their faces…did not feel right. Blanching, she shrunk back and slammed the door as fast as she could, but not fast enough.
One of the men swore colorfully, having jammed his hand into the doorway as she had attempted to shut it. Heart ramming in her ribcage, the girl scrambled to her bow, but just as she grabbed an arrow to notch it, a heavy hand jerked her up and away from her bow. Managing to keep her wits, Aeranys stabbed downwards as fiercely as she could with the arrow. Blunted tips or not, it wasn’t pleasant to have metal driven into a thigh and the man howled, momentarily loosening his grip. She lurched forward, trying to snatch up her bow to lash out at the ruffians, but before she could the other man was upon her. He caught her arms roughly and wrenched them backward, causing her to cry out in pain, still struggling despite it. The man she had stabbed at recovered, a nasty scowl on his face as he pressed a hand to his thigh.
The young woman twisted to glower up at the captain, her pale locks tousled and tumbled over her face. “What do you want with me, captain?” she demanded frostily. “Explain yourself.”
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Mousie
Lurking Snapdragon
Carvio
Carvio stood in the doorway with a proud look on his face. As his precious cargo began to question his motives, Carvio lost control and began to chuckle a lot. The look of a mercenary with a stab wound in his knee from a young woman was hilarious to him. There was an immediate awkward silence after his chuckling, but Carvio managed to keep everyones attention on him as he began his offer: "Listen, your friend really does need your help, girl. You see, his life is now in your hands. If you come with us quietly without a fight, he'll live." The mercenary holding onto Aeranys tightened his grip on her forearm. He had a stench of a sickly cheese, and the breath of a dead person. "But before we discuss terms any further, Great Master Darius has asked me to brand you as one of his." Carvio spoke slyly.
Carvio snapped his fingers roughly together as the men restraining Aeranys began to move her forwards towards him. The merciless captain clenched a collar made out of old iron very tightly in his thick hands. "This is a gift from your new Master, girl." She struggled as the men grunted while holding her down while Carvio slipped the collar on her neck gently. The look on his face looked blissful as he finished locking it on. "You've made me a rich man, girl, you see?"
Carvio stood in the doorway with a proud look on his face. As his precious cargo began to question his motives, Carvio lost control and began to chuckle a lot. The look of a mercenary with a stab wound in his knee from a young woman was hilarious to him. There was an immediate awkward silence after his chuckling, but Carvio managed to keep everyones attention on him as he began his offer: "Listen, your friend really does need your help, girl. You see, his life is now in your hands. If you come with us quietly without a fight, he'll live." The mercenary holding onto Aeranys tightened his grip on her forearm. He had a stench of a sickly cheese, and the breath of a dead person. "But before we discuss terms any further, Great Master Darius has asked me to brand you as one of his." Carvio spoke slyly.
Carvio snapped his fingers roughly together as the men restraining Aeranys began to move her forwards towards him. The merciless captain clenched a collar made out of old iron very tightly in his thick hands. "This is a gift from your new Master, girl." She struggled as the men grunted while holding her down while Carvio slipped the collar on her neck gently. The look on his face looked blissful as he finished locking it on. "You've made me a rich man, girl, you see?"
clockwork girl
memento mori
The captain looked amused, if not triumphant at the sight of her restrained and distressed. “What?” she uttered, her expression turning from anger to worry to anger once more—“What have you done with Ser Merick?” He would live, Carvio was telling her, if she did not resist. Otherwise… “Brand me?” she echoed, her voice like midwinter. Her heart was beating like drums in her ears, but she kept her composure, too furious to be afraid as the mercenary dragged her towards the captain.
But at the sight of what was in the captain’s hands, her blood ran ice cold. A collar. Like a dog’s, or...a slave’s. New master? Bile rose in her throat and she struggled viciously, paying no mind to the searing pain that was shooting up her arms and shoulders. However, it was little use as the captain serenely clasped the iron collar about her neck. “You dare,” she ground out, the eyes that had once been kind and concerned now glinting a feral silver. “You dare chain a Targaryen dragon as a slave?” Her voice was low, but it cut through the warm muggy air like a knife. She was glowering at the man, but a second later she had spat in his face.
“I will find you,” she snarled, teeth bared—what a sight she made, more dragon than princess. “I will find you, and you will regret the day you crossed the blood of the dragon.” She could be kind, she could be gentle. Loving. But there were no traces of those traits that could be seen. Aeranys bristled, hostile and infuriated. “And then I swear to you, I will show you just how lukewarm the hell you crawled up out of was!” she raged, pinning him with a deathly glare. Nary a single empty threat had been uttered by her. She would not forget the wretched man. He would pay for thinking a dragon could be made a slave. Oh, he would pay.
Mousie
Lurking Snapdragon
Carvio
Carvio wiped the spit off as if it was sweat from the heated summer air. He enjoyed the fiery look the Targaryen gave him, including the words that burned into his mind. But he knew he had to punish her in front of the two mercenaries along with the crew for her act against him. "Bring her to the main deck and strap her down until we make our way to Pentos." One of the men holding her gave an approving nod as they dragged her out from the cabin door. Out on the deck was the small crew that stared at the untamed but restrained dragon with a frisky look in their eyes. Although they recently sailed to Lys and visited many taverns, their lust was still unfulfilled as ever. "Cap'n, say, you owe me and some of my boys a favor for that whore you took from us in Lys. I think she could be a good replacement!" Scowled a man with broad shoulders and a large stomach in a happy tone.
Carvio had a very serious look in his eye. "This one is already promised to Master Darius in Pentos. She's worth only a third of the price if we sully her, men. You can buy yourselves three times the normal whores you can when we're done with her." Carvio explained in a rash voice. "Listen, you can keep your gold and whores. We want the girl, y'see." The bigot choked out in a harsh voice. "Listen, I already told you-" Before Carvio could further rationalize with the crew member, the large man unsheathed his lame sword from its scabbard. "What in the seven hells do you think you're doing?" A few more men unsheathed their swords and aimed it towards Carvio and his small band of mercenaries. "We already told you, cap'n. We want the girl, nothing more." A scrawny man next to the broad one demanded. "So you're going to die for a tight little whore like this one, eh?" Carvio blurted out as he quickly slid out his sword. One of the mercenaries holding Aeranys quickly moved her into the cabin and locked it closed.
Behind the locked door, she could hear fighting that sounded more gruesome than in the city due to how close it was. Steel clashed up steel, and men groaned and winced in small breaths of pain before they either died or continued fighting.
Carvio wiped the spit off as if it was sweat from the heated summer air. He enjoyed the fiery look the Targaryen gave him, including the words that burned into his mind. But he knew he had to punish her in front of the two mercenaries along with the crew for her act against him. "Bring her to the main deck and strap her down until we make our way to Pentos." One of the men holding her gave an approving nod as they dragged her out from the cabin door. Out on the deck was the small crew that stared at the untamed but restrained dragon with a frisky look in their eyes. Although they recently sailed to Lys and visited many taverns, their lust was still unfulfilled as ever. "Cap'n, say, you owe me and some of my boys a favor for that whore you took from us in Lys. I think she could be a good replacement!" Scowled a man with broad shoulders and a large stomach in a happy tone.
Carvio had a very serious look in his eye. "This one is already promised to Master Darius in Pentos. She's worth only a third of the price if we sully her, men. You can buy yourselves three times the normal whores you can when we're done with her." Carvio explained in a rash voice. "Listen, you can keep your gold and whores. We want the girl, y'see." The bigot choked out in a harsh voice. "Listen, I already told you-" Before Carvio could further rationalize with the crew member, the large man unsheathed his lame sword from its scabbard. "What in the seven hells do you think you're doing?" A few more men unsheathed their swords and aimed it towards Carvio and his small band of mercenaries. "We already told you, cap'n. We want the girl, nothing more." A scrawny man next to the broad one demanded. "So you're going to die for a tight little whore like this one, eh?" Carvio blurted out as he quickly slid out his sword. One of the mercenaries holding Aeranys quickly moved her into the cabin and locked it closed.
Behind the locked door, she could hear fighting that sounded more gruesome than in the city due to how close it was. Steel clashed up steel, and men groaned and winced in small breaths of pain before they either died or continued fighting.
clockwork girl
memento mori
The princess glared daggers at Carvio as he ordered the mercenaries to take her away, no doubt to punish her for the way she had acted out against him. Power was a fickle mistress, and anyone who held it were wise to know that it could too easily slip away once subordinates saw their masters as people capable of being defied. But as she saw the crew leering at her, sickly smiles on their grubby faces, she felt a wave of nausea. Rape occurred to too many female captives. Her status would matter little to those unsavory enough. But it seemed the sight and idea of her had been enough to spark a mutiny—the group of seamen unsheathed their weapons against the captain.
The mercenary dragged her back into the cabin, bolting the door shut. She could hear the sound of fighting right outside the door—wet sounds of blood, shrieking of the wounded…the thudding of bodies hitting the deck. She felt ill—her fate did not seem to be a kindly one no matter which ruffian won the fight. If by some miracle they killed each other, perhaps she would be able to get away…but the odds of that happening was too low. Meanwhile, there was only one mercenary with her here, and he was no doubt distracted by the fight going on outside.
She twisted suddenly, a pained hiss leaving her lips as she voluntarily wrenched her arm to be freed from the mercenary’s grasp. She leapt forward towards the bed and the man lunged after her, kicking away the bow and arrow far underneath the bed. But instead, she tore the pillow off the bed, and snatched up what had been under it—her cyvasse piece, the Black King. Before the mercenary could subdue her, Aeranys stuffed it into her mouth with the full intention of swallowing it if they tried to take it from her. Perhaps she would choke on it and die. But surely that would be a better choice than whatever life of slavery she had waiting for her. She bit back a muffled cry as the large man held her more tightly this time—her shoulder burned like fire. It felt as if it had been sprained, and she could feel the tears springing to her eyes. And outside, the sounds of men dying could be heard.
Mousie
Lurking Snapdragon
The Ship
The fighting noise outside started to die out swiftly. There were still multiple footsteps pacing around on the old deck floors and the fresh sound of steel clashing each other still ringed in everyone's ears. The man that held Aeranys took out a few ropes from the main deck and tied her wrists onto the bed post tightly, enabling him to check outside to see if the conflict was resolved in his favor. Before he made it to the door he paused as a heavy set of footsteps were limping towards the doorway. The mercenary rapidly unsheathed his blade and held it towards the door. A hand slid on the thick wooden frame and slowly pushed it open. The man who stood in the doorway was unfamiliar to both Aeranys and the mercenary. He had a scruffy appearance with a few loose gray hairs beginning to grow. The man was also donned in a light leather armor where you could barely see the blood dripping off of it. Both of the men stared at each other intently, while Aeranys could only watch from a delicate position.
They were both speechless as they instinctively rush towards each other, weapon in hand. The mercenaries sword had a slight curve, while the bastard sword the middle-aged man was holding looked like a castle forged steel. They both grunted as their blades met each other and their bodies twisted around, trying to look for an opening. The middle-aged man took a quick glance at Aeranys in which he had a slight wink in his eye. Aeranys noticed a long dagger that was tied to the back of his waist sideways. He turned his head quickly back towards the mercenary, and gave him a look of confidence as he held back the merc's weight on his sword with one hand as he quickly unsheathed the dagger. Before the mercenary could react, the leather armored man plunged the blade into his eye socket, causing a shrill instant scream that died out fast.
The mercenary collapsed with a shocked look on his face. The middle-aged man turned around now, and saw the princess in her vulnerable position. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you, m'lady." He spoke to her softly. He noticed the iron collar stuck on her neck. "Let's get that collar off of you, shall we?"
The fighting noise outside started to die out swiftly. There were still multiple footsteps pacing around on the old deck floors and the fresh sound of steel clashing each other still ringed in everyone's ears. The man that held Aeranys took out a few ropes from the main deck and tied her wrists onto the bed post tightly, enabling him to check outside to see if the conflict was resolved in his favor. Before he made it to the door he paused as a heavy set of footsteps were limping towards the doorway. The mercenary rapidly unsheathed his blade and held it towards the door. A hand slid on the thick wooden frame and slowly pushed it open. The man who stood in the doorway was unfamiliar to both Aeranys and the mercenary. He had a scruffy appearance with a few loose gray hairs beginning to grow. The man was also donned in a light leather armor where you could barely see the blood dripping off of it. Both of the men stared at each other intently, while Aeranys could only watch from a delicate position.
They were both speechless as they instinctively rush towards each other, weapon in hand. The mercenaries sword had a slight curve, while the bastard sword the middle-aged man was holding looked like a castle forged steel. They both grunted as their blades met each other and their bodies twisted around, trying to look for an opening. The middle-aged man took a quick glance at Aeranys in which he had a slight wink in his eye. Aeranys noticed a long dagger that was tied to the back of his waist sideways. He turned his head quickly back towards the mercenary, and gave him a look of confidence as he held back the merc's weight on his sword with one hand as he quickly unsheathed the dagger. Before the mercenary could react, the leather armored man plunged the blade into his eye socket, causing a shrill instant scream that died out fast.
The mercenary collapsed with a shocked look on his face. The middle-aged man turned around now, and saw the princess in her vulnerable position. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you, m'lady." He spoke to her softly. He noticed the iron collar stuck on her neck. "Let's get that collar off of you, shall we?"
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clockwork girl
memento mori
Though all she could feel was exhaustion and pain, Aeranys struggled still as the mercenary looped the rope about her body, tying her to the bedpost. She’d never forgive herself if she made it easy for the miscreants who would be condemning her to a terrible fate. Tongue and teeth clenched about the cyvasse piece, the only thing she could be grateful about was that the mercenary didn’t think that whatever she had crammed into her mouth was of importance, especially since there was a fight going on outside. But the sounds were fading away, save the sound of heavy footsteps…headed towards the cabin. Aeranys went still, wet eyes staring intently at the door to see what sort of fate would be dealt to her. When the door opened, it was not one of the lusty crew members, nor was it greedy Carvio. It was someone else altogether. Even the mercenary did not recognize him it seemed, and the two began to fight. Wide-eyed, the girl watched; the fight was over quickly, with a dagger in the mercenary’s eye socket. The man went down with a piercing scream, and she could not tear her eyes from the blood. But when the newcomer turned to her, she took up her flailing again with renewed vigor. She did not know him, and she did not know what he planned to do with her.
But when the middle aged man spoke, it was in a soothing tone, assuring her that he would not hurt her. Though she stopped struggling, she regarded the man warily, not feeling particularly trusting at the moment. It was only after he cut through the ropes and removed the wretched iron collar that she reached up removed the king piece from her mouth, finally enabling her to speak. “Thank you, good ser,” she said, her voice raw and laced with fatigue. Her eyes were red, though she had not spilled any tears. “From where do you hail and what is your name? I will make sure this debt is paid handsomely,” she spoke as graciously as she could, sounding much more stable than she felt. The princess had always been prone to hiding her distress behind a mask, but even so, she could feel her hands trembling badly; she clasped them neatly together, ignoring the stinging pain that shot out from her shoulder.
"The captain and the others?" she inquired hesitantly. It was very quiet now. "And Ser Knight Yyronwood?" She felt concern rushing back for the knight. Who knew where Carvio had stowed him away? That was, if they had truly left him alive.
Mousie
Lurking Snapdragon
"Where I come from doesn't matter, Princess." The middle-aged man began. "My name is Jorvan 'The Deserter', and the debt your Father owes me can't be paid with coin. He had a hardened look in his eyes as his face closed up towards Aeranys'. He studied the kings piece that she had held in her mouth only for a few seconds for the princess asked a few more questions. "You don't need to worry about Carvio right now, Princess. And I don't remember seeing a knight on the ship. I want you to answer me a question now, Princess." Jorvan began to ask her. "Why were these men taking you captive, and who was the knight that was escorting you?"
clockwork girl
memento mori
"Oh," she said faintly when he mentioned that the debt her father owed her could not be paid with coin. She couldn't say she was surprised--her father had touched many lives...and not in a good way. Had she been a woman of less self control, she would have sighed, or perhaps burst into tears. "I cannot imagine what, but I also cannot deny the things my father has done, Ser Jorvan." Despite her calm tone, there was a definite weariness in her voice that only seemed to increase at the thought of her father. The princess had very little love left for her father within her. He demanded that he answer his questions and she nodded, forcing herself to smile pleasantly. "Yes, of course. Ask away."
The young woman glanced down to the corpse of the mercenary lying on the floor. "I believe they wished to sell me," she replied, a hard edge in her pale eyes. "To a man named...Darius?" she searched her memory. "In Pentos, yes." Her lips pressed together into a thin line in distaste and anger at the memory of Carvio's words. "And my escort, Ser Merick Yyronwood. He is of the Kingsguard, and a honorable man," she answered, worry seeping into her expression. He had said that he hadn't seen a knight on the ship...that didn't sit very well with her. "He'd been injured. The captain spoke as if my compliance would save his life, but...I am not sure if he was merely lying to me." Her eyes darted about the room, as if she could find the knight hidden somewhere. "I need to find him."
Mousie
Lurking Snapdragon
Jorvan glimpsed at her expressions with awe. The girl that stood before him was a beauty to behold, and he could see why Darius would pay hundreds of gold just to get her to him unsullied. Before he got lost in his thoughts from staring at her for too long, he snapped back into attention as she spoke out Darius' name. Carvio must've been a fool telling her where they were taking her. Jorvan continued to give her his full attention and pieced together everything that she told him. "If the captain wanted your compliance, he definitely would've lied to you about keeping the knight alive. But I think I know where they put him, Princess. But before you entertain that thought about seeing him again, what's stopping me from delivering you to the same people Carvio was? Your Father is a terrible man, and all I see is an opportunity at vengeance." Jorvan explained in a deep calculated voice.
Jorvan briefly remembered his days as a squire in the court of King 'Scab' Aerys II. He remembered a young Targaryen boy that looked nothing like him prance around with a younger girl in the court one day. A septa had chased them and the court laughed happily. It was one of the best days of his life. The wine was good, the nights at the brothels were good, but above all else something kept darting into his mind. The beauty of the young girl was already developing, and he began to truly remember who Aeranys was. Before he could finish his thoughts, Aeranys told him her response to his reasoning.
