𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖗𝖆𝖌𝖔𝖓 [𝗥𝗼𝗯𝗯.𝗦]

29

KING OF ASTAPOR

VISENYA blinked, violet eyes glancing to the flickering candle, the morning light glistened through the pale glass. She smiled, stretching her arms wide with a yawn on her lips. The room, of all things, paled in comparison to her room at Winterfell. For sure, it held much more grandeur than her small servant's quarter's ever would. That was, of course, when Lady Catelyn's forced her to such places, on her worst of days. More often than not, she slept near the family.

But the worst of nights in Winterfell were spent wondering, cursing, as she tried to find or imagine the simplest thought of her mother. Who she was? Where she was from? And all that time, all those years she had spent praying. Her mother had been there the whole time, tucked into the Crypts where their blood remained in death. Visenya's fingers shook, trembling under the weight of the lies of her father— uncle. It broke her heart most days, as much as his death did.

Visenya jolted in surprise as one of the servants bustled into the room. Dark ringlets fell past tanned shoulders as she greeted the silver-haired girl with a kind smile.

"Good morning, Princess." She gently placed the tray of food on her small pale table that rested near the wide vast window. The sight of the glittering sea was all the more beautiful in the morning light.

Visenya slipped from her sheets with an exasperated sigh, glancing back at the warm bed in misery. If only she could stay there for the rest of her days. Wrapping her woolen blanket around her shoulders as she stepped out towards the small breakfast table that sat in the sunlight. Eyebrows raised at the sight of the two trays that rested there on pale wood.

"What is this?" Asked Visenya.

"Oh," murmured the servant. "The little lord has asked to have breakfast with you. Is that agreeable?"

"Of course," she grinned in delight.

Visenya happily spent the morning curled into the lounge with her little brother splayed across her lap. Vhagar cooing happily between the two of them. He was a sweetheart, especially when it came to Rickon. But he was barely small enough to fit between them. Almost the size of a small horse, and Arrax, held a far worse habit. While Vhagar was affectionate, her darling Arrax decided that his latest source of food were her curtains.

Rickon sipped at his juice and nibbled on the scones they had been given, butter slathered over it with berry jam and a sprinkle of cream. The boy licked his lips, flour dusting them as he beamed happily. Visenya only ached, fragile with the knowledge that he was mostly all she had left in this half of the world. In a land of sand and perversity, sweet little Rickon was a gift.

"Is that nice?" Smiled Visenya.

"Yes, Alys!"

That kind little chime calmed her heart, the name Alys purring off his tongue making her feel as if she were right at home for the first time in months.