green lies, black hearts

III

a/n: thank you all for the support over here thus far :) it means the world to me

-p

~+~

Shaera

After reassuring her mother twenty times that she was feeling much better—all she had needed was to be roused from her fainting spell with cool water—the heir to the Iron Throne acquiesced to allowing Shaera at dinner. Shaera had thought that her mother would use this as a reason to not share a meal with the Hightowers, and it seemed she almost had. It had been some time since she fainted at the sight of blood, but who could blame her at that display? Seeing a man beheaded, and not completely at that, would send any into a fit. And her stepfather did not apologize for his actions, which she understood, but once she was up and changed into a different gown that wasn't sweat-addled, he had kissed her hair and apologized for not warning her of what he would do.

She thought it of little issue. It was something she must deal with in her life. How could she hope for a warning every time someone's blood was spilled? Of course, there was the issue that a beheading was much different, but she wouldn't perseverate over the details. One beheading in her eight-and-ten years seemed to be a good statistic. Of course, zero would have been best, but such was life.

Newly betrothed before the court, Jacaerys was the most gentlemanly of all and offered his arm to Baela to escort her to dinner. The pair had always been fond of one another. Shaera once had had a sneaking suspicion that her brother was infatuated with Baela after she came to visit Dragonstone and he had not shut up about her for three weeks thereafter. Shaera could breathe easy that it seemed reciprocated. Baela couldn't stop smiling.

Why wouldn't she though?

After Viserys I and then Rhaenyra, Jace would sit the Iron Throne, making Baela the Queen Consort. How could she not be ecstatic?

Then there was Rhaena and Luke. Luke would become the next Lord of the Tides when Corlys passed, and with the news of his grave injuries, that seemed to be soon. Which would mean that Lucerys would go to Driftmark sooner rather than later, and Rhaena would need to follow. Her dearest friend. Her sister. Her brother. Shaera could feel her heart beginning to ache.

She thought, as the eldest, she would be betrothed first. That she would be married by now. But she was yet to even be given an offer.

Shaera blinked away tears as she watched her brothers act like the true men their mother raised them to be—kind, respectful, courteous, and above all, good in the heart and soul. For the court to see that she was still unpromised to any while her brothers and sisters were now set in their betrothals was a mild sting. It hurt more than seeing Vaemond's head come clean from his jaw. But it certainly hurt less than seeing her grandfather take the throne for what she feared may be one of the last times. In support of his daughter. Of his grandchildren. But that ache and the one of rejection were not mutually exclusive and she felt them both piercing her heart.

"May I escort my lovely daughter to dinner with a bunch of cunts?" Daemon asked, offering her his hand.

Shaera snorted. "You should escort mother."

"I should." He nodded. "But she can handle herself for an evening. My little dragon, it seems, cannot."

Sighing, she took her stepfather's hand and he linked their arms.

"Other than seeing that fucker's head roll" —Daemon leaned closer to her but kept his attention forward as they made their way for the main stairs— "what is it that has you melancholy, Shaera?"