𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐧 ➵ jacaerys velaryon

17: ⁿᵒ ᵒⁿᵉ ᶜᵒᵘˡᵈ ˢᵃᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ

☁️ ·̩͙✧
C H A P T E R  S E V E N T E E N

MEVANYA WATCHED the snow falling outside her bedroom window. Morning had long since begun in Winterfell, but she still couldn't bring herself to leave the warm, safe solitude.

"Uhm, Your Highness?" The sweet voice of the maiden Cregan Stark entrusted to her brought her back from her thoughts.

Mevanya turned away, she had been so immersed in herself, that she did not hear the knocking at the door. Victoria was carrying a tray in her hands, two steaming mugs on it. Mevanya furrowed her eyebrows, she didn't remember asking her for anything.

"I didn't ask..."
"No, I did," Cregan Stark appeared at exactly the right moment, a small, sly smile on his lips. "Thank you, Victoria, you may go."

Mevanya nodded to the girl and smiled tightly, the seven and ten years old girl gave a small bow to the princess before leaving the tray on the table and exiting the room.

Cregan grabbed the two steaming mugs and walked over to her, extending one and sitting down next to her on the window seat.

"Thank you," she smiled faintly, and turned her gaze outside again as she basked in the warmth the hot tea emanated.
"Victoria says you haven't want to leave the room yet, is there a problem, princess?" From the way he spoke, Mevanya had a feeling that Cregan Stark already knew the answer to that question, but still, he had the courtesy to ask.
"Please, call me Mevanya, I have long since ceased to know if that title belongs to me," she sighed, looking down into her cup.
"You are the daughter of a king and queen, are you not? I think that qualifies as being a princess."
"Yes, well, Would a princess think of burning her people? Would a princess stand by and watch the greatest injustice of all time unfold right in front of her eyes? Would a princess do nothing as she watches her kingdom doom itself to destruction? I don't think so."

Cregan was silent for a few seconds, absorbing her words. It was the first time she had admitted how she felt aloud, Mevanya, ever since she had left King's Landing, and even, perhaps, since she had seen the conqueror's crown placed upon Aegon's head, felt that she did not deserve her title of princess, how could she, after all?

"I wouldn't know, to be honest, I've never been a princess," the simplicity with which Cregan Stark spoke managed to steal a small smile from Mevanya's face, the man smiled indulgently, and at last she raised her head to look him in the eyes.

They were looking at her with compassion, but also analysing her, trying to see beyond what she was letting him see.

"Yes, well, I suppose I must be, otherwise who else are they going to use to make marriage pacts?" She sighed, her words sharper than she had meant them to sound.
"If it's the pact of Ice and Fire you're worried about..."
"I am no mere 'Enchantress of the Realm' Lord Cregan," Mevanya declared, her eyes flashing uncertainty. "I was betrothed once before, and I nearly died for it. I will not be betrothed again for anyone else's sake."
"I never said you were. I know exactly what you are." Those words hadn't been at all what she'd been expecting, so she blinked a couple of times, confused.
"Oh, yeah? And what's that? Exactly," she raised an eyebrow, her gaze still hard.
"A broken woman, a grieving mother, a grieving aunt and friend. A dragon, about to burn within her own fire," if she had been surprised before, she was even more so now.