𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 | 𝐝𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧.

↬ 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄. 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐎𝐅 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄.

'Great news, great news! The war on the borders had ended! Meet the survived heroes! Glorify them!'

It was the first words—screams, even—that woke the capital this morning, loud cheers echoing around noisy streets, slipping inside the darkest places of the city. Music followed immediately, and when the crowd of people appeared, everyone greeted them. Despite half of them not knowing what this celebration is about, they triumphed of the end of war sincerely, with such passion that could only match the happiness of survivors.

'How could you not know? This war had been going for ages now. Don't you remember? Self-proclaimed Mad King kept everyone in terror, while...'

And so everyone talked.

Loudly discussed what was going on, laughing and crying.

But for one this victory meant the new topic for gossips, and for others it was the final return to home. A way to the freedom, long forgotten under ashes and blood, under corpses of people they know.

'Your Majesty, the guest arrived. Henrietta Hightower, the first of her name, the daughter of Lord Hightower, the cousin of the Queen Mother, her Grace Alicent Hightower, and proclaimed in the borders, The Hands that Sow Life, an outstanding healer.'

The woman in the doors coughed as if the whole introduction was too much for her appearance.

'King Viserys, sister Alicent,' she said, voice too hoarse. 'It is pleasure to see you again.'

Despite the enchanting look of hers—the hair of the colour of smouldering fire that were tied in the bun, emerald hairpin keeping in, and freckled face illuminated by a gentle smile—it was easy to spot the frightening hollowness in her. The beautiful ghost of the finished war.

'Welcome home,' the king smiled, and this smile was sincere. 'We are glad that you are safe.'

'Oh, Anri,' Alicent muttered, opening her arms wide. 'Come here!'

Hearing this, instantly helped Henrietta to relax. In a few wide steps, she appeared in front of her cousin, whose arms were just as welcoming and warm as she remembered them to be.

'Ali,' she whispered in her hair; their usual height difference, with Henrietta being taller, seemed to grew even more, 'oh, how I missed you.'

There were no words of how they couldn't recognise each other at first sight, sweet features of the past dissolving in something sharper, more tired. Instead, they clung to each other like little kids, reminiscing the past, soft breaths coming from slightly open lips like the requiem for their childhood years and innocence.

When the embrace was stopped, cousins detaching from each other, Henrietta's attention finally moved to three kids, standing not so fat away.

The one that seemed to be the oldest, Aegon, must be, was slightly furrowing. Slightly away, staring at her own shoes, there was the only girl; without doubts, Helaena. And almost attached to her hip, a serious little boy with piercing eyes, should be Aemond.

'They grew up so much,' Henrietta said slowly, shifting closer to them. 'And they surely don't remember me, anymore?'

'Yeah,' Aegon blurted out bluntly. 'We had no idea who are you.'

Instead of saddening, Henrietta only laughed. Her hand raised to pat him on his curls, the sudden touch making him open, mouth agape, almost surprised.

'Well, I remember who you are, Aegon. You were so little back then! And when I took care of you, you would always pull my hair.' She winked at him, slightly amused by the look on his face. She took Helaena's hands in hers, observing; she finally raised her head as well, curious. 'Sweet Helaena. You always slept well when I was singing to you. Such a beauty you grew up!'