AMBROSIA || HOUSE OF THE DRAGON

xiv|| WISHFUL THINKING

She wanted to go home.

Much of her time now was spent on wishful thinking, and even though she knew she would never return, she solely wished for it. She imagined by the time she returned back; all would be the same. The golden house that stood tall in the countryside, and her mother's embrace that she would receive each time she returned from the fields of green grass.

That was home. And many months had passed since she left it, and it was all a fading memory in her head. Ambrosia had promised herself she would never forget her mother's face, but the oath had been broken, and now all that lay in its place was the haunting ghost of a future that could have been.

She only saw her mother's face in her dreams, as vivid as she did when she was younger. Beautiful and youthful, and sometimes she would dream of a more mature face, withered by the treacherous grip of the passing years. She would dream of her mother's words to her, kind and hateful, and even the most hated words were words Ambrosia treasured. She would sometimes dream of her mother's distant stares, of the roots of madness that clouded her vision. She missed her mother, all the versions of her mother, but now no versions of her lived, and they had all faded from Ambrosia's memory.

All Ambrosia wanted was to see the golden house one more time. To regain her memories of home. Wishful thinking.

Now, her idea of home was a stone castle, which hollowed her heart and mind with every passing day.

She did not have to turn from her position to know that the spot next to her that found itself occupied earlier was now empty. Regret and shame found itself way into her body, her cheeks burning with self-resent. Ambrosia had found the affection she lacked in life in a stranger. At least for a moment, and now she had been left empty-handed and cold, alone to keep only herself for company. She would sometimes pity herself, pity for the little girl that found no solace in life. And pity for the woman that little girl had become.

Ambrosia made no move to rise from bed when a knock was delivered to her door or to greet the person whose footsteps echoed throughout her head. When she opened her eyes, the two girls are eye to eye, the contact only breaking when Talla gently sighs and sits on the bed. No words were exchanged between the two for a while, Ambrosia being the first the disrupt the silence.

"I want to go home, Talla." Ambrosia hears Talla sigh again. She closes her eye harshly, not wanting her companion to see the true state she was in. She was hurting.

"I know." Talla's voice was gentle and low, reminding Ambrosia of her mother's voice when she showed her daughter comfort. It was comforting, and although Ambrosia felt utter despair at the thought of being alone in the world, she had Talla, and it was at the very least someone.

"I have forgotten the face of my mother. What child am I to her if I cannot give her the privilege of remembering her face?" Ambrosia's lip quivered at her own words, and she withheld a sob as Talla combed her fingers gently through her hair. She felt like a child who had done something bad, whose punishment was to turn and stare at the wall, thinking of their wrongdoings. Her mind was a blank wall, and Ambrosia stared at it all day, trying to find the meaning between the harsh ridges and cracked dullness.

"Do not blame yourself for the deceit of time. I too do not remember my mother's face, but that does not mean they left this world with less of our love." Ambrosia opened her eyes, glancing at Talla's sad ones. She too was a broken child, cursed to live a life without their mother's memory.

Talla wiped the few tears that accumulated in her eyes, forcing a small smile upon her face. "We shouldn't bother ourselves with tales of old, the day has just started, and you have something to tell me!" Ambrosia's eyes widened at Talla's words, throwing a pillow at the girl who ran from her side.

"I do not!" Ambrosia held the sheets tightly to her figure, her cheeks burning in embarrassment.

"But you do! In fact, I saw something with my own eyes!" Talla giggles at Ambrosia's shyness, the latter groaning at her friend's teasing.

"You saw nothing Talla. Maybe the dullness of the capital has caused you hallucinations." Their jest had caused genuine smiles on their faces, and Ambrosia was relieved the conversation had found its finish, even if she was the one to initiate it. The two girls continued their bickering, Ambrosia soon running out of pillows to throw in Talla's direction, in attempt to shut her up.

The once dark, harboring promise of a depressing day left Ambrosia, in her perspective a perfect day, an unsullied one. She closes her eyes, leaning back against the bed, the sound of Talla rummaging through the chest of clothing echoing in the room. She could feel the heat of the afternoon sun blister the world below, and what may have been seen as a nuisance to many was a comfort to her. The sun reminded her of her home, and she easily slipped into her daydreams, being lulled by the soft humming emitting from the other occupant of the room.

The peacefulness shared between the two girls was short-lived, and Ambrosia peeked through one eye as she heard the door slowly open. It was the princess, with a grim expression and red, puffy eyes.

"Princess." Talla was the first to break the silence, Ambrosia watching in amusement as she bowed deeply. She seemed to be the only one of the two that noticed the mirthless, small smile that graced Rhaenyra's face at Talla's greeting, as opposed to the joyous one she usually wore.

"Do you find yourself alright Princess?" Ambrosia eyed the Princess closely, as the latter sat beside the red-haired girl.

"No, nothing is ever found to be alright in this family." Internally, Ambrosia rolled her eyes at Rhaenyra's answer to her question. She was not a fan of theatrics, and the princess was not getting the point of her anger as quickly as Ambrosia preferred.

In feigned pity, Ambrosia grabbed the princess' hand, comforting the young girl from whatever troubles she faced. She knew the princess was not partially inclined to express her worries to her, and all that was left for Ambrosia was to take the charge of comforting the princess. A job deemed fit for a close friend, but Alicent had been deemed hard to find these days, something Ambrosia had paid great mind to.

"He called him heir for a day," A soft hand tightens its grip on Ambrosia's hand. "He stole my brother's egg, my dead brother's egg"

Ambrosia knew who he was and did not need to question the princess on who she referred to. She knew of the rogue prince, the prince of Flea Bottom, who would rather whore himself through the brothels than stand by his brother's side. She had heard vile, cruel things of the prince, and it was evidently clear he was not well-liked throughout the kingdom.

"But it will be retrieved, will it not." Ambrosia disliked being the person of comfort, but when the princess teary eyes looked up at her, she could not help but feel pity for the poor girl.

The princess nodded her head. "By the hand as commanded, but it will cause bloodshed." Ambrosia looked over at the princess, taking note of her wardrobe. She wore riding gear, but the smell of dragon did not linger in the air.

And in that moment, a small beacon of realization hit Ambrosia.

The princess had decided she would retrieve the dragon egg herself.