𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 | 𝐝𝐚𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧.

↬ 𝐀𝐂𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎. 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓. 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄.

"My, my, the daughter of Albern Hightower, the Lord of OldTown, came to live in the capital, to his uncle!"

"Truly? I didn't know he had a daughter. He must be really secretive about her."

"Oh, he is. I think her name is Henrietta? Henrietta Hightower?"

/

'Listen, maybe I shouldn't participate in this... Whatever it is.' Henrietta sighed, glaring at her cousin. Alicent was sitting, not so far, on the bed, watching at her with big curious eyes. 'I don't see the meaning of it.'

'It is the banquet just for you, Anri.' She puts hands on her own lap, head tilting on the left side. 'They want to meet you.'

'Well, no shit,' Henrietta rolled her eyes, turning back to the long mirror, fixing the front laces of the dress.

It was one of her favourites; the light blue, like the sky itself, reaching down the floor. It was slightly open in the shoulders and bust, laces tightening the grip on her chest. Henrietta looked nice in it, but mostly she liked it just for the fact of whose gift it was. Her father.

Yes, he didn't even give it to her directly, leaving the box with it on her bed before the day she left, and he called her a disappointment on the next morning, but... It was the first gift Henrietta ever got from him. She was planning to carry this dress for as long as it was possible.

'You had changed so much,' Alicent said suddenly, quite calmly.

'...We had seen each other for the last time, when we were eleven. I think, you should be more bothered if I didn't change.'

If someone was coming to the Oldtown every three or two months, it was Otto. He was passing by regularly, spending time with Henrietta and his own brother, before leaving. With Alicent she only spoke over letters, both of them constantly exchanging so many stories, that at the end of every month there were always the pillar of letters.

But it was different, to talk in the real life, when no written down on the letter sentence cannot hide your true self.

'...Rude,' Alicent huffed. 'Well, anyway, tomorrow you will meet the crown family! Father will present you to the king himself, and Rhaenyra.'

'Rhaenyra?' Henrietta asked absent-mindedly.

This name seemed familiar, but Henrietta couldn't wrap the thought where she heard it for the last time. And cousin stared at her as if Henrietta just told her the most unhinged thought of hers, that floated somewhere in the depths of her mind.

'...The heir to the throne? Rhaenyra Targaryen? What cave you are living in?'

She shrugged.

The crown family was the last priority in the list of her interests, and therefore Henrietta never bothered to remember their names properly. Yes, she knew Targaryens in general, but then, what? She had no obligation in knowing the king's name or any of his other relatives.

'Right, because knowing some twats names is so important,' she sighed, fingers letting down the loosened ponytail.

'She is actually not that bad,' in two steps, Alicent was already behind her, hugging from behind, pressing cheek to her cheek. 'I want both of you to befriend each other, actually. You are two my dear friends, and I would be at peace, knowing that you like each other.'

Ah, her sweet, sweet cousin.

'If you want me to befriend her, I will try my best.' Henrietta promised.