In order to bring your families together your sister and mother propose you marry the future king, the man you'd been taught to hate. The both of you struggle to make the marriage work, while dealing with your decaying family.
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The day shifted quickly as you got back to the Keep. Once your feet hit the ground from the carriage, you separated from Jacaerys and ran back into your room. Your maid-hands helped you change dresses. The dress you wore now was a blood red. Its sleeves had lace as did the neckline. It was flattering to your body, allowing for room, but showing off the pieces you liked. You would not be ashamed to stand in front of the realm in this. On top of that, it was a dress of celebration, rather than mourning, unlike the black dress.
You kept your hair the same, though the women in your room helped touch up your face. You thanked them, before walking quickly making your way through the keep to your eldest sister's room. You knocked softly before entering. You put on your brightest smile as she turned to you. Her face was wet with tears, and red, her pale skin blotchy. Her hair had been undone and she still wore the black dress from the funeral.
You came closer to her, "Oh, this will not do. You are to be Queen in hours Rhaenyra," you tried to smile.
She nodded, she looked nothing like a Queen now, but like a little girl who lost her only surviving parent. You grabbed a wet rag and sat next to your sister. You took her chin, signaling for her to turn to you. You carefully wiped away the mess of tears and snot on her face. Her eyes closed and she leaned into the touch.
"You will have time to grieve, but now is not it," you whispered, dabbing under her eyes, she nodded, taking a large breath, "I'm sorry you aren't allowed to mourn, it is not fair," you told her as you set the towel aside.
"The coronation must be quick. The realm is unsettled with my reign as it is, I cannot give them time," she insisted, like she'd rehearsed it.
You nodded, picking up the brushes and powders tapping them against her face, covering her emotions under a mask, "I know. That does not mean you are not human. They may say Targaryens are closer to Gods than men, but you still mourn like a human."
"Have you always been so wise?" She asked with a sad smile.
A bitter feeling rose, "Yes. You just haven't been here to see it."
The smile disapeared and she closed her eyes, allowing you to finish your task, "You look almost as if you didn't cry now," you joked, showing her herself in the mirror.
