𝐖𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒 ─── daemon targaryen

𝖛𝖎. The Ties That Bind

CHAPTER SIX ───── THE TIES THAT BIND

( 112 AC )

          𝕾EASONS CHANGED AND LEAVES crumpled to golden dust, but the friendship between Cirilla Ashryver and Laena Velaryon was not so capricious. They had wiled away the afternoon trying on dresses with the royal seamstress. Well, it was not so much trying them on, but dashing through the chamber with silk veils—in Laena's case, she acted the part of coquettish bride, in Ciri's, she tossed wolf skins over her shoulders and played the austere countess. They'd laughed until their bellies ached and gorged themselves on violet sweets and tarts. The seamstress had given up on her tailoring and had left the girls to their own whims.

          Any occasion for fun was one they clung to with both hands. It had been six months since the passing of Queen Aemma and the court was still in mourning. There had come a point for most of them where their grief was more out of respect and duty, than what haunted their hearts. Ciri missed the queen. She truly did. The smell of lavender and sugared roses no longer permeated the halls. Ciri hadn't realised the scent belonged to the queen until it vanished with her. The Red Keep had lost a limb. But it continued to hobble onwards. Still, entertainment was frowned upon. Smiles were taboo. As long as the king lamented, so would they all.

          Rhaenyra had isolated herself these past few months. After her uncle's bitter farewell—a matter that was due to his coining the king's dead son "The Heir for a Day" crudely in a brothel—and his equally crude dismissal from court, she was oft seen reading under the weirwood tree or being chased by Septa Marlow. Now that Rhaenyra was formally crowned as heir, the septa had her hands full with grooming her for the position. Especially as the princess would rather perch atop a low-hanging branch and munch on apples than study Maegor's laws.

          Ciri had, for the most part, avoided Rhaenyra. Bickering with a princess was one thing, but fighting with a queen was a whole other game. She'd prefer not to stray from her bad side to being inked into her list of enemies. Not that Ciri would've done much heckling if they had come face-to-face. Sorrow had drawn a line over their mockery, one that Ciri would not cross.

          In truth, had Rhaenyra not had Alicent—who'd lost her own dear mother not long ago—Ciri would've felt inclined to go to her. Perhaps not go so far as to comfort, but to at least be there should she want to talk. For in spite of their childhood wars, what all young girls had in common was their mutual acquaintance in Death. When He showed His face, the sourness, the envy... it did not matter so much.

          Laena, kind and lovely as she was, did accompany the princess. Not often, and not in sight of her step-sister. It had begun when Rhaenyra had quite unexpectedly turned up at one of her tea parties. She and Meredyth and Sara had been gushing about the tourney champion, Ser Criston Cole, when in walked the princess herself. No announcing her presence or any form of greeting. Rhaenyra simply plodded down on one of the cushions and poured herself a cup of tea. Then she'd stuffed her mouth with their entire cake. Laena was reminded so much of Ciri in that moment that she smiled and kept talking like nothing odd had happened at all.